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Back Sisters of Gold
Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. Title page
  3. Dedication page
  4. A Week’s Work in Birmingham
  5. I
  6. One
  7. Two
  8. Three
  9. Four
  10. Five
  11. Six
  12. Seven
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Ten
  16. Eleven
  17. Twelve
  18. Thirteen
  19. Fourteen
  20. Fifteen
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-One
  27. Twenty-Two
  28. Twenty-Three
  29. Twenty-Four
  30. II
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. Twenty-Seven
  34. Twenty-Eight
  35. Twenty-Nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-One
  38. Thirty-Two
  39. Thirty-Three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. Thirty-Eight
  45. Thirty-Nine
  46. III
  47. Forty
  48. Forty-One
  49. Forty-Two
  50. Forty-Three
  51. Forty-Four
  52. Forty-Five
  53. Forty-Six
  54. Forty-Seven
  55. Forty-Eight
  56. Forty-Nine
  57. Fifty
  58. Fifty-One
  59. Fifty-Two
  60. Fifty-Three
  61. Acknowledgements
  62. Further Reading
  63. About the Author
  64. By the Same Author

‘It’s the Lucas factory,’ Lizzie explained, getting up to tend the fire. ‘Sometimes the men have the odd bit of bread to spare from their dinner. No wonder you look so cheerful,’ she added to Den.

‘I brung a bit back for Nellie.’ Den fished in his pocket, and in his coal-blackened hand held out a corner of bread that by now had almost the look of a piece of charcoal.

Annie was about to remark that it was not likely to do Nellie any good, but Mary Poole said softly, ‘Yer a good lad, Denny. Here – put it on the table ’til ’er wakes up.’

The sight of the coal and the merest scrap of food seemed to have cheered them all up no end.

Twenty-One

Twenty-One

Daisy Tallis now made a habit of waiting out on the front step of number twenty-four. Although the air was full of autumn chills and the evenings closing in earlier, when Margaret stepped out of the house or was coming home along the street in the late afternoon, she often saw the young girl sitting there.

Daisy hardly ever looked straight at her. She would turn her head this way and that, seeming to look dreamily into the distance. Eventually, once Margaret drew close enough, Daisy’s gaze would take her in, as if this was purely accidental.

‘Hello, Daisy.’ Margaret always greeted her with a friendly smile.

‘Hello.’ Daisy often looked solemn at first, but then her lips would curve up in spite of herself and suddenly she would change into an eager little girl.

Soon it became obvious that Daisy really was waiting for her and Margaret got into the habit of stopping for a chat. Aunt Hatt talked about Daisy as a poor, motherless thing and Margaret was drawn to the child. Annie, being Annie, had dived in head first and involved herself with the Poole family, feeding the hungry and clothing the naked – more or less. Talking to a lonely child was the least Margaret felt she could do. And Daisy only lived next door. Margaret never seemed to see her with other companions. Daisy, with her sad, watchful eyes, seemed marooned in a world of adults.

Margaret asked herself often these days whether she should not volunteer her services in some way at Carrs Lane church. She and Annie were only going to church once on a Sunday now instead of three times and it was quite a walk away. But, even more than that, something in her rebelled against the idea. Church, church – doing everything Father’s way all the time? No! She could not face up fully to how angry she felt with her father, how hurt by his betrayal. She would not do this – follow his rule, his confining path, even when she was far away from him. They had these weeks away – and now it felt as if there was so much more of life to find out about!