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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

Annie, supporting Margaret by the arm, looked about her with eager interest. Jack Sidwell walked ahead of them, carrying a bag in each hand.

Annie’s lips turned up for a second at the sight of Jack as they wove along the busy pavement. There was a rash creeping up his neck and every time he looked at her, he blushed furiously. It was like Adam Blake all over again, she thought contemptuously. Adam, a lad in the village, was forever gawping at her yet couldn’t manage to get a coherent word out of his mouth. She seemed to have this effect on boys, but from her point of view they (and men in general) were all rather ridiculous.

Annie, aged seventeen, had a grand view of her life and how it was going to proceed, and this towering vision did not particularly involve the presence of males. Especially not if their father or most of the other men she knew were anything to go by.

They were walking along the busiest streets she had ever seen: narrow, cobbled, the blue brick pavements teeming with people. On each side rose buildings, elegant under their coating of soot, some ornately patterned with carvings, and in various colours of brick. Some were obviously large manufactories from which issued metallic clangs and crashes. You could feel the vibrations of thumping and banging through the pavement. Some of the warrens of terraces could have been mistaken for dwellings alone, had it not been for all the signs and plaques announcing that they contained a host of businesses. And everywhere, on each floor and in every available space, were windows, long and light-welcoming, elegantly shaped, some arched, some decorative. Every now and then she caught a glimpse of someone bent over a bench behind one of the ground-floor windows and here and there glowed a bright finger of flame. Smoke poured from chimneys, adding to the stenches of the fetid summer air.

Annie looked about her, finding it all most exciting. She had always wanted to get out and see more of the world, and now this was a chance to begin. All the same, she was concerned about Margaret, who was much frailer than she was. Her sister did seem to be reviving though, now that they were out walking in the air – even this balmy air, thick with smoke and grit, so different from the freshness of their village home.