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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 felt foolish. Here she was, with big dreams of preaching, and she hardly had the first idea how to conduct even a simple conversation in this place! She found it impossible to join in with any of the chat about husbands and suitors, wedding plans and children – let alone the earthy sense of humour which was entirely new to her. But it did feel as if, by keeping quiet and just getting on with her work, she would gradually be accepted. One or two of the shyer girls had given her a nod in passing, as if in sympathy, and it warmed her heart. She was surprised how much she discovered she longed to fit into this strange place.

‘I . . .’ She struggled for the right words. ‘I can see you’re not very well. I just wondered if you wanted any help?’

Lizzie raised her head. Her eyes were sunken and she looked very pale and sick.

‘What d’yer think you’re gunna do to help me?’ she said sarcastically. ‘I just need to get ’ome, that’s all.’

‘D’you live far?’

A slight shake of the head.

‘Perhaps you should have gone home earlier,’ Annie ventured. She was trying to help. All her upbringing had conditioned her to help, but Lizzie did not seem in the least grateful for this. ‘You look really poorly.’

But at this show of sympathy, Lizzie burst into sobs, clutching her face and her body shaking. Annie saw that her young hands were rough and chapped, the nails bitten to the quicks.

Scared of being rejected, but moved by this pent-up suffering, Annie gently touched her shoulder.

‘We’ve got to get out of here. Let me help you get home, Lizzie.’ She spoke very gently. ‘I don’t mean any harm to you. You do look very ill.’

Lizzie caved in like a rag doll. She slid from her stool and Annie took her arm. Slowly they made their way out to the street, where the lamplighter was already lighting up the dusk.

Lizzie told her she lived in Pope Street. The very name of it repelled Annie. She wondered if the street was populated by Roman Catholics, who to Annie inhabited a foreign country, full of dark superstition and lurid, bloodstained statues.