The Sweeping Saga Collection: Poppy’s Dilemma, The Dressmaker’s Daughter, The Factory Girl. Nancy Carson

of Mrs Newton with whom you reside. I have known you for – what, Mrs Newton? Four years, is it?’

      ‘Four years it is, Reverend … Tell me, do you still live outside Dudley?’

      ‘With the express permission of the Bishop, Mrs Newton.’ He put his pen down and leaned back in his chair as if anticipating a lengthy chat. ‘And due, as I’m sure you must be aware, to the insanitary condition of the town.’

      ‘To my mind, things are improving, Reverend,’ Aunt Phoebe replied, in defence of her home town. ‘At least we have had no cholera epidemic for a number of years.’

      ‘Indeed, not since eighteen thirty-five. I am often reminded, however, that the graveyard of our beloved St Thomas’s that year was full to overflowing, and the surplus dead of the parish carted to Netherton for burial.’

      Aunt Phoebe nodded. ‘Indeed, it was as you say, Reverend.’

      Reverend Browne placed his fingertips together as he studied Poppy once more, almost in a gesture of pious prayer, she thought. ‘To return to the matter in hand … Baylies’s Charity School was founded for the purpose of educating boys from poor families, Miss Silk, on the principles of the Christian religion, according to the doctrine and discipline of the United Church of England and Ireland. I take it you attend church regularly?’

      ‘Yes, sir,’ Poppy confirmed truthfully, though as yet she knew little of the scriptures, and only the Lord’s Prayer and the Creed by heart.

      ‘Indeed, I have seen you there, come to think of it … I trust you would not be grossly overwhelmed at the prospect of working with so many boys?’

      ‘Oh, no, sir.’

      ‘Tell me, are you able to play the harmonium, Miss Silk?’

      ‘I’m not that good, sir.’

      Aunt Phoebe said, ‘Miss Silk has only recently begun piano lessons. But I have every confidence that she will progress quickly.’

      ‘So what formal education have you had, Miss Silk?’

      ‘Miss Silk has been having the benefit of private tuition with me for some months, Reverend,’ Aunt Phoebe interjected. ‘Unfortunately, she began her learning late. She has, however, made remarkable progress and would be a valuable asset here, able to help any of the younger pupils.’

      ‘It is with the younger pupils that we need the extra help, Mrs Newton. A strong academic background is hardly necessary. Merely an ability to read and write, to be trustworthy and reliable, and to understand our Christian discipline.’

      ‘What hours would Miss Silk be expected to work, Reverend?’

      ‘From half-past eight in the morning till four o’clock in the afternoon, Mondays to Fridays, and on Saturdays till one.’

      Aunt Phoebe pursed her lips thoughtfully and looked first at Poppy, then at Reverend Browne. ‘No, I’m afraid I couldn’t allow her to work such hours, Reverend. Miss Silk is my helpmeet and companion and, with the best will in the world, I could only spare her mornings.’

      ‘I see,’ the vicar replied, obviously disappointed. He drummed his fingers on the desk in front of him, a pensive look on his face. ‘Such a pity … Look, allow me to bring in Mr Tromans to meet Miss Silk,’ he suggested more brightly. ‘I will discuss with him when you have gone the possibility of employing Miss Silk on mornings only. I will let you know the outcome in due course. I presume you would be free to commence duties straight away, Miss Silk?’

      ‘Oh, yes, sir.’

      He got up from behind the desk and fetched Mr Tromans.

      As they walked back to Rowley Road and Cawneybank House – the clarence was not available since Clay was busy greasing the axles – Poppy and Aunt Phoebe discussed the interview. Aunt Phoebe was of the opinion that Reverend Browne considered Poppy suitable for the position and would try and convince the schoolmaster, Mr Tromans, that he could manage with morning help only.

      ‘That will enable you to continue your learning at home, and still have some time to yourself.’

      ‘I wouldn’t have dared suggest it, Aunt Phoebe,’ Poppy said. ‘I wouldn’t have even thought about it. Don’t you think it might put them off having me?’

      ‘I think not, my dear. Having been a teacher for many a long year I am aware of the reality of what is desirable compared to what is possible. It is not uncommon to use pupil teachers in classrooms. All too often it is necessary. For you, so many young boys under one roof could be very tiresome if they are not sufficiently well disciplined. I must say, though, Mr Tromans seemed to keep them on a tight rein. He seemed no fool. If you are offered the position, I’m certain he’ll be fair and respectful towards you.’

      They walked on in silence for a while, up the road known as Waddams Pool, with cottages interspersed between factories on both sides, and dotted with dollops of uncleared horse manure. A horse and cart passed on the other side of the road and the carter raised his hat to them with a cheery smile. The sky, however, was like lead and threatened more rain.

      ‘Maybe we should have taken the omnibus, Poppy.’

      ‘Oh, I don’t know. A drop of rain won’t hurt us.’

      ‘I wasn’t thinking so much of the rain as my poor legs.’

      ‘I remember the men at the railway encampment when they worked in the rain. They always moaned. It made the earth thick with mud and so much heavier to shift, but they shifted it all the same. But the mess they made with their boots after …’

      Aunt Phoebe smiled indulgently at her. ‘Those days are gone for you, Poppy, are they not?’

      ‘Yes, they’re gone, but I don’t ever regret them. I can’t forget them, either. I remember them now with fondness, and the folk who lived and worked there … I wouldn’t want to go back, though. Not when it was always my intention to get out anyhow … I wonder where my poor mother is now, and my sisters and brothers … And Buttercup.’

      ‘Buttercup,’ Aunt Phoebe mused. ‘I hope some day I might meet this Buttercup. I hope some day I might meet your mother too, and the rest of her children. I wonder what she would say if she saw you now, if she saw the change in you.’

      ‘She wouldn’t recognise me. Especially not in all these lovely clothes.’

      ‘Oh, she would. Of course she would. Her own daughter.’

      They were passing Tansley House, the home of the Crawfords. It started spitting with rain.

      ‘Maybe we should knock on the Crawfords’ door and ask if we can shelter from the rain, Aunt Phoebe,’ Poppy said, half-serious.

      ‘Oh, I think not, Poppy. Tansley House would be my last choice of refuge without an invitation. But you’ll get to see it, no doubt, if you begin to see Bellamy regularly.’

      ‘I’m not sure that I want to see Bellamy regularly,’ Poppy replied.

      ‘But such a handsome young man, and with such an assured future. So obviously taken with you. My dear, what girl of seventeen wouldn’t want to be seeing Bellamy regularly?’

      ‘This girl.’

      ‘Oh? And why is this girl so different from others?’

      Poppy hesitated to say.

      ‘Go on … There must be a reason …’

      ‘Because …’ She blushed vividly. ‘Because this girl’s in love with Robert.’ It was the first time she had admitted it to Aunt Phoebe.

      Aunt Phoebe turned to look at Poppy and saw her heightened colour. ‘Ah … Of course, I suspected it, so I’m hardly surprised. But you must know it’s futile, my dear, your holding out any hope of landing Robert.’

      ‘I’m not sure what futile means, Aunt Phoebe, but if it means it’s