TEN
November 1904 - 1905
On Friday morning Florence woke up in a strange room, in a strange house in a strange city. As her eyes opened she experienced a brief moment of panic when looking around the bedroom. Bright winter sunlight shone in from a window to her left as she lay in bed, before finally remembering where she was. Tommy had brought her to stay for the previous night, and this coming night, at the home of the mother of a shipmate of his, an Able Seaman who Tommy had quickly made friends with from almost the first day in the training schedule. The Seaman, Charlie Watson, was one of the other men who had joined the navy about the same time as Taff and they had found themselves billeted together in training on HMS Defiance. He and Taff had quickly become friends when they realised that they were probably the oldest of the recruits on that intake, although there was still five years between them. Their age put them aside from the other even younger men in the barracks, and they had formed a bond. Charlie had insisted that Florence stay with his widowed mother, Elizabeth, in her house on Paley Street in Devonport, until the night of his wedding on the 19th. After that, Taff had declared that he and his new wife should celebrate their marriage in one of the many hotels to be found in Devonport or across the river in Plymouth, before she retuned temporarily to her home in Bolton. Florence had blushed furiously when Taff had declared this to Mrs Watson, but Mrs Watson had touched the girls arm gently and smiled kindly at her, so Florence had felt less embarrassed.
As Florence lay in her bed listening to the strange noises from outside the window and from within the house, it seemed that someone was moving around downstairs. She lay there for a few moments until she decided that there was only the noise of one person in the house with her, probably Charlie’s mother, Elizabeth. Florence pulled her overcoat around her as she made her way down the staircase towards the noise coming from the kitchen at the back of the house. As she opened the door into the kitchen Elizabeth Watson turned to face her, her face suddenly bursting into a warm welcome.
'Hello my dear' she said. 'Come on in by the fire and warm yourself. I’m just making a pot of tea. Do you take sugar?'
'Yes please Mrs Watson' Florence replied. 'Can I use the lavatory please?'
'’Course you can my dear. It’s back upstairs on the landing at the back of the house.' Florence nodded her head and turned to go back up the stairs. A lavatory inside the house, she thought to herself. That’s new. Not only did she discover a lavatory, but a full bathroom as well, with hand basin and bath all in the same room, Florence had heard and read about, but never experienced, a bathroom like this before. She grinned mischievously as she wondered how long it would be before she used an outside 'lavvy,' or the tin bath again.
The two women sat at the kitchen table and enjoyed a bowl of porridge and cup of tea as they sat and warmed themselves before the fire. Betty, Elizabeth insisted Florence call her by that name, was keen and excited to hear all the news of her impending wedding at the register office on the following day. 'Tommy’s taking me to get some new shoes this morning' Florence said. 'The ones I have don’t go with the frock I’ve made for the wedding.' Betty was a little surprised to hear that the young woman had made her own wedding outfit, but quickly approved of the dress when she saw the quality which Florence had accomplished. The dress was a deep cream colour, ivory Florence had said, with a wide high collar in a darker cream. The full sleeves were finished at the wrists with a similar coloured cuff. A wide brimmed light tan hat with a deep blue band around the crown completed her outfit; other than the new shoes which her Tommy had promised to buy for her that day. She hurriedly ate her porridge and drank her tea, before rushing upstairs to get dressed and then to the front door to greet Taff as he came through to meet his bride to be.
'Hello Mrs Watson' he said.
'Betty,' she reminded him smiling broadly.
'Betty.' he repeated and grinned back at her. He turned to Florence and took her hand in his. 'Well my future wife, are you ready to go and spend some money then?'
'Not too expensive Tommy. I don’t want you wasting your money on me.'
'It won’t be wasted if it’s spent on making you look beautiful on our wedding day.' Taff smiled and pulled her gently towards him. With mock modesty she held back from him, glancing down at her feet and yet smiling at the same time.
'Come on then,' she said, 'Let’s get a move on.' Taff squeezed her hand gently in his and turning towards Mrs Watson said,
'I should think we might be out most of the day Betty. I thought it might not be a bad idea if I gave Flo a bit of a look around the town whilst we have the chance.'
'City!' Mrs Watson chimed. 'Plymouth’s a city you know, now we’ve got Devonport tagged onto it as well.' Picking the two bowls from the table she moved to the sink, looking back at the couple over her shoulder as they made their way to the door into the hall. 'You take as much time as you want Taff. You’ve got all day and this young lady will need to know the place where she’ll be living won’t she?' Taff nodded his head in agreement and opened the door into the hall for Florence, who walked through and picked her outside coat from the hooks on the wall in the hallway. Just like home, she thought to herself. Much bigger house, but a lot like home.
The room in Mrs Watson's house which Thomas had found for her was a short ride from the station and close to the main dockyard gate in a street of similar terraced houses, though much bigger than the one she had left in Bolton. The stone used to build the houses was a much lighter colour than the one on Waterloo Street, partly because of the fact that it was stone and not NORI brick from Accrington, and also that it had not been subjected to a hundred years of industrial grime and smoke from innumerable tall chimneys. Though it was dark when Florence arrived back at the front door of the house, she was able to appreciate the sudden and major improvement in the standard of her living accommodation. As he helped her carry her bag into the room of the house her heart sank a little. To be married and then separated from her dear Tommy so soon did nothing to raise her spirits, in fact quite the opposite. As he elbowed open the door into the room she looked around the hallway. It was longer and wider than the hall at home in Bolton and lead straight to a flight of stairs going to the rooms on the first floor. She edged her way past Mrs Watson who had welcomed them at the front door and looked around the room which was to be her home for as long as it took Tommy to find his feet in the Navy. How long that would be she could not even guess, not having any knowledge of the machinations of the Royal Navy. Perhaps they would not post him to Australia despite his wishes, perhaps he would be posted to the north of Scotland which he had also mentioned, a place he called Scapa Flow, though it might have been the end of the earth as far as her knowledge of the geography of the country was concerned.
Tommy dropped her suitcase onto the bed; a bed which occupied about a quarter of the room. A bay window at one end of the room faced out onto the street with its small front garden, and to the houses opposite. The other furniture in the room was restricted to an armchair who's bottom sagged due to the previous occupant of the room, a Mr Jones, so Mrs Watson had told her.
'He were in supplies' she had said when explaining to Florence the appearance of the room and its furniture. Florence had looked quizzically at her. 'He sold comestibles to the Navy' she followed up. Florence had been no wiser for the explanation but let the subject drop. Mrs Watson turned to Florence, holding a key out to her in her hand. 'There's your front door key' she said indicating a long shanked key on a ring. 'The other is the key to your room' she added. Glancing around the room to check that all the furniture was in place and as it should be, she finally took her leave of them saying with a warm smile, 'If you need anything I'm in the back room.' Florence thanked her and took the keys from her hand and held them as her landlady turned and walked from the room.
Florence turned to Thomas feeling tears welling in her eyes and her chest tightening. He stepped towards her, aware of her feelings. She buried her head in his chest as he enfolded her in his arms.
'You'll be alright my love' he said softly. 'Soon as you're settled in it'll feel like home. I were the same when I moved into the barracks. Everything were strange, I knew nobody and didn't know what to do.' He felt her head nod against his chest as she silently agreed with him. For a moment they stood in the centre of the room clasped together until finally she pulled away and opened her case, which Tommy had placed on the bed.
'It's not all that big is it?' she said, nodding down to the bed.
'I don't know, he said, 'Should do you alright.' He replied. Florence grinned a shy small smiled
'I meant for two' she whispered. Tommy smiled at her and took her again in his arms.
'I'm sure it'll be big enough' he grinned back at her. 'Plenty big enough.'
Florence started to take her few clothes from the case and hang them in a wardrobe which stood against the back wall of the room. Soon the case was empty. She closed it and looked around the room for somewhere to store it. Thomas took the case from her and hefted it onto the top of the wardrobe.
'Should be safe enough up there. Not as though you are going to be wanting it immediately are you?'
'No. Not 'til we're ready to move,' she murmured. Tommy glanced down at the watch on his left wrist and with a grimace said,
'I'd better be getting back to the ship.' Florence nodded her head silently and stood looking out of the window at the dark sky outside. He came over to her and gently turned her round to face him, and then bending his head down kissed her on the lips. 'I'll see you tomorrow night then love,' he whispered. Florence nodded her head silently, the tears started to flow again. She sniffed, and as she pulled away from him wiped the tears from her cheek with the cuff of her sleeve.
Later that night Florence lay alone in bed running over again in her head the past few months and particularly the past days of her life.
The following morning, on Saturday 19th November at 10.30am Florence and Thomas were married at the Register Office on Fore Street, Devonport before two witnesses, Elizabeth Watson and her son Charles. Apart than those people, there were no others present from either of their families. Florence thought it was a bit of a sad affair, and not what she had in earlier years anticipated what her wedding would be like. She had often thought of what it would be like to walk down the long isle of the Congregational Church at Blackburn Road, it's red sandstone bricks ringing with the music from the organ, and all her friends and family sitting waiting expectantly. But at least she was married. The couple came out of the register office shortly before eleven o’clock to find that a stiff wind had blown up, and rain was blowing sideways at them as they made their way back to Betty’s home to celebrate with a happy meal which Betty had put on for them. The beginning of their married life did not look too auspicious, though others had started off their married lives in much worse circumstances.
Christmas was fast approaching and Florence and Taff had agreed that she would return to Bolton to stay with her parents until after Christmas. Taff had some leave coming to him which he would take over Christmas, and come up to Bolton to spend it between his parents house and Flo's, before returning to Devonport to continue his training as an Electrical Artificer.
Florence caught the train at Devonport for the long journey home a couple of days after her marriage to Thomas. The weather was no more than she had anticipated, wet and miserable. The wind seemed to blow continuously until they reached London, and then picked up again when the train drew further away from the capital and closer to her home. Night was well under way when she eventually arrived back on Trinity Street station to catch a tram to her home. Later, lying in bed that night, thinking of all of the things which had happened to her during the previous days, her marriage, the short stay in the hotel paid for by Tommy, the journey home, but in particular something which he had told her, which so far she had not mentioned to her parents. Tommy was going to try and volunteer for what he had called The Australia Station.
'What’s that Tommy?' she had asked when he first mentioned it.
'It’s the squadron which patrols the south Atlantic and Pacific oceans to keep the world safe for the Empire' he replied.
'And you will have to move to Australia?' she asked, her lip quivering at the thought of being separated from him so soon after they were married.
'Well the ships are based there, in Sydney, so yes, I will have to go there.' Tommy replied. 'But don’t worry Flo, I'll be paid enough to get a house for us out there. My pay as an Electrical Artificer is a lot more than the normal seafarers pay, so I can afford to get us somewhere out there. We should have no trouble renting somewhere.' He paused and looked into her eyes as she struggled to imagine her life in a new country away from her mother and father and brothers, away from the mills of Bolton and everything she knew. The suggestion had not come as a complete surprise to her, had he not already spoken of his plans for his life in the Navy?
The more she thought about it the more she realised that this was the adventure and change of life she had always longed for since being a young girl. What could be more different than a mill girls life, than living in a place on the far side of the world? After a moment she lifted her head to gaze into his eyes.
'It will be alright won’t it Tommy?' she asked. 'I’ve heard a lot about the gold rush and things, and what about this outlaw called Ned Kelly. He’s still killing people isn’t he?' A jumble of half read and half misunderstood facts about the country and life there flooded her mind. In truth she knew precious little or nothing about the place, despite what she had read in the library. The realisation that she might soon be going there terrified her at first. Tommy took her hand in his and held it gently as he tried to ease her fears and tell her more of what he knew of the country. His other hand stroked the side of her face and he bent down to kiss her gently on the lips.
'Listen love,' he said, 'You need have no fear at all about going there. I will be on a ship nearby, and when I’m not on the ship, well I will be with you in our own little house somewhere in Sydney. I'll be earning enough to keep you, so don’t go worrying your head about that.' He paused to let the words sink in and then continued. 'Anyway, it won’t be until I’ve finished my training, and there’s a lot of that to go yet. What we need to concentrate on at the moment is getting somewhere in Devonport for you to live so we can be closer together until I can get on the Australia Station, and who knows, I might not even make it.' She looked up and smiled at him, and after a moment's thought said,
'If you think it will work for us Tommy then of course I’ll go.' She paused to take in a breath. 'It’s just a bit of a shock to suddenly come on like that. It’ll need a lot of thinking about. Anyway, like you said, it will be a while off yet. We’ve plenty of time to plan and work out what’s going to happen, haven’t we?' Tommy smiled and whispered,
'’Course we have my love, of course we have. Bags of time yet. I’ve got to learn how to fix the guns and torpedoes yet!'
Later that night in Bolton, Florence settled down into her side of the bed and pulled up the blankets around her. The north of England in November was cold and the cold tonight seemed to work its way into her bones. She snuggled down under the thin eiderdown on top of the blankets and tried to force herself to sleep. Her mind wrestled with the thoughts of going to Australia and living there. How would she get there and how much would it cost to sail there? How long would it take and would she have to go there by herself? Thousands of questions forced themselves into her head until finally in the small cold black hours of the early morning she fell into a sleep laden with doubts, fears and excitement.
The following morning was cold, and Florence took herself off to work at the mill once more, the tiredness from the journey and the previous three or four days excitement working against one another to conspire to keep her mind off the work, and yet she was pestered by everyone on the spinning room floor for all the details of her marriage and all about Tommy and his new career in the Royal Navy.
'Has he got any single mates in the navy Florence?' called out one of her work mates from across the room. The woman’s voice rose above the crashing sound of the looms as they dashed to and fro across the frames. Florence grinned silently to herself and pretended not to have heard the comment.
It suddenly struck her that she did not know the answer to the question, even if she had wished to answer it. In fact she suddenly realised that she knew precious little about Tommy and his new life, other than what she had been able to glean from him in the short time they had been together. What she did know was that the training would take up to a full year and then he would be posted to one or other of the ships in the navy, and the choice might not be entirely his. Depending upon what the results of his training and conduct were during the period of his training, would depend on which ship he would be posted to. His own personal wish was to be posted to one of the new Dreadnaught class of ships which were reputed to being built in various dockyards around the country. The first one, HMS Dreadnaught, which gave the class it’s name, was built in the dockyards at Portsmouth. From his own work experience in Bolton from the age of thirteen, he knew that keeping his nose clean and not upsetting anyone would be just as important in the navy as it had been previously. In his view, nothing he would do would give his Naval superiors any cause to doubt that he was the best man to be posted on board the new and biggest ships. His nose would not just be kept clean, it would be squeaky clean.
She blushingly recalled the letter she had been obliged to persuade her father to write for the Registrar of marriages in Devonport, to confirm that he gave his permission for his daughter to be married. The letter was required because she was under the legal age limit where she could marry without his permission. There had been some discussion with the Registrar at the time which had delayed the brief cold ceremony, to the evident consternation of another small group waiting in the room outside the ceremony hall, but Thomas and Florence had convinced the Registrar that their wedding was legitimate and that she was marrying Thomas Lowe lawfully. She had had to put her home address in Bolton on the marriage certificate because the registrar regarded her as having no permanent address in Devonport.
The trips she had made to and from Bolton via London and all the other towns she had seen had become almost commonplace, and she had grown from being a small town girl with no knowledge of the world beyond the boundaries of her immediate neighbourhood in Bolton, to one who felt more at ease and comfortable travelling around the country by herself. The experience she had gained in travelling up and down the length of England had gone a long way to making her feel at home with the prospect, if it ever happened, of travelling by herself to Australia. Buying tickets, finding the correct platform at the various railway stations, selecting the seat in the right carriage were now commonplace for her. In fact the journey had soon become a fairly tedious bore, and one she now started to view with a certain amount of irritation, though it was always good to go home and see her Ma and Pa again, and her brothers. The brothers were keen to know the various exploits of Thomas and his trip through the training grounds of the Royal Navy, and became infected with a level of knowledge and enthusiasm for the service which they were only too happy to pass on to school friends and work place colleagues.
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