Home Is A Strange Country Chapter Seven

 

SEVEN

Bolton Wakes 1904

Florence pushed open the front door to the house on Waterloo Street, and with the free hand wiped a trickle of sweat with her shawl which had been irritating her face. The weather had been hot for a few days now, and the day's work at the cotton mill had been oppressively hot, made worse because of the unseasonably warm weather. The skies had been cloudless for several days and the temperature had soared into the high seventies and low eighties. The weekend just past had been spent mainly with Tommy and they had discussed much about their future together and his plans for the navy, and where they would live once they were married. The marriage plans were entirely based on him joining the navy and when that could be accomplished, but now she had another hill to climb, and the hill was her father.

As she hung the shawl on the hook on the hallway wall she called out,

'It’s only me Ma.' Her fathers’ voice came in reply from the kitchen.

'She’s not in. She’s run off and left you. You’re all too much for her.' Florence opened the door into the kitchen and saw her father sat in his usual armchair close to the left hand side of the range, a newspaper as usual in his hand and a large white mug of tea within easy reach on the corner of the kitchen table. His head did not lift up from the newspaper as Florence walked up behind his chair and bent down to fold her arms around his neck as she planted a kiss on the bald spot on top of his head. William Henry flicked the newspaper in mock annoyance, but a smile crept across his face. She was the only surviving daughter of the four his wife had produced for him, the other three, together with two other sons had died either in childbirth or within a few months. For that reason amongst others, she was special. 'What are you after young lady?' he asked gently. Florence unfolded herself from around his neck and stepped towards the range.

'Me?' she asked in feigned innocence. 'What makes you think I want anything Pa?'

'’Cos to begin with you always want something, and secondly you only make a fuss of me when you want something special,' he said gruffly. His eyes left the paper and fixed on Florence, the daughter he had always wanted and had finally been blessed with. She was a pretty girl he thought. No, no longer a girl, a young woman now. And here she was soon to get married, to a nice chap, who would look after her as well as he and her mother had. 'So, what it is?' he repeated.

'Do you want a cup of tea Pa?' Florence asked. William Henry pointed to the mug on the edge of the table with the corner of his newspaper.

'Got one thanks,' he said. 'There’s plenty in the pot if you fancy one.' He nodded to the large brown teapot warming on the iron griddle by the side of the range, it’s fire low in the grate. His eyes followed her as she bent to pick up the teapot and then carry it to the cupboard by the side of the range to pick out a mug for herself. Setting it down in silence on the table she poured the stewed tea into the cup and topped it with milk from a small jug which lay next to the bowl of sugar on the table. As she set the teapot back on the range she turned to her father and stood motionless in front of him.

'Pa' she began, then paused.

'Get on with it lass, better out than in.' He lowered the newspaper and took the mug from the table, to indicate to her that she finally had his full and undivided attention.

Florence took her mug of tea and cradled it in both hands, standing in front of him so that she was silhouetted against the bright spring light shining through the window overlooking the back yard. She took a sip from the mug and then placed it back on the table and folded her arms across her chest.

'It’s not long off the Bolton Holidays is it Pa?' she asked. William Henry nodded his head in agreement.

'What are you planning?' he asked.

Florence paused, unsure whether it was wise to ask her question, but realising that she had promised Tommy the day before that she would ask him tonight, and that if she didn’t, well, she would look a right fool.

'Tommy and me were thinking that, well, we were thinking as he’s going into the navy, it would be good for him, and me, to have a little holiday before he went. So, we were thinking that, well, that we’d like to go to Blackpool for the first week of the holidays.' She paused to let this sink in. Her father said nothing, allowing the silence to encourage his daughter to pluck up the courage to end the small speech she had obviously been rehearsing. She took a breath and said,

'Tommy knows a B & B what he and his Ma and Pa used to go to on Hornby Drive in Blackpool, and he thinks he can get us two rooms there for the first week of the Bolton Holidays.' She gulped and quickly added. 'It would be alright Pa, it would be two rooms.'

'I should bloody hope so as well young lady' her father snapped. This was not what he had anticipated and the news had thrown him somewhat. 'I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to your Ma about it. Just ‘cos you’re getting married doesn’t mean to say that, well, that...' he paused and stumbled over his words, unwilling to say in words what his mind had been thinking, and in truth what Florence had known his thoughts would be.

'Pa' she said, 'I promise you I will be alright. Tommy's a good bloke, and we will have separate rooms, and there will be other people in the house as well, and we’ll be alright, and he will take care of me, so I’ll be alright. And anyway, you know what Blackpool landladies are like.' The words tumbled out and she twisted her hands in discomfort, hopping from one foot to the other in front of the range.

'I said I’ll have to talk to your Ma about it Florence. Let’s leave it at that for the time being shall we?' He picked up his newspaper and pretended to start to read it again, though his mind was anywhere other than the daily news from Bolton and District. Florence murmured quietly,

'Alright Pa. Thanks' and turned away to walk around the table to go upstairs to her bedroom.

Her head was down as she climbed the stairs and her shoulders slumped as she closed the bedroom door behind her. Throwing herself onto the bed she curled herself into a ball and soon felt tears flowing gently onto her cheeks. This had not gone how she had anticipated. Within a few minutes she had sobbed herself into a deep slumber in the bright light warmth of her bedroom.

Down below, her mother pushed open the front door with the bag of shopping she held in her hand, elbowing it open and pushing through into the hallway.

'I’m home!' she called out to whoever was in the house, knowing that it was likely to be only William Henry.

'In here love,' William Henry called out. As she came into the kitchen laden down with a half full shopping bag she was surprised to see her husband standing with his back to the fireplace range.

'What’s the matter?' she said, hefting the bag onto the table.

'It’s our Flo' he replied.

'What’s wrong with her?' Harriet asked, unable to hide the concern from her voice.

'She wants to go to Blackpool for Bolton Holidays with Tommy, in a bed and breakfast.' The look on his face told her that he not only did not approve of the suggestion, but was horrified by it. Harriet looked towards the teapot on the range.

'Is there any tea in that pot?' she asked.

'Eh? No, it needs a fresh brew,' replied William Henry shortly. Harriet started to empty out the shopping bag onto the table.

'Hand it to me then and I’ll make us a fresh pot then' she said. William Henry picked the teapot from the range griddle and handed it to her. 'Pop the kettle on will you while I make it.' William looked askance at her. It was his job to bring in the money to sustain the family. It was not his job to cook the food, and things like that. Because they were alone in the room and nobody else would see his action however, he quietly lifted the kettle from the griddle and set it down on the range fire. Taking the poker from its stand by the side of the fire he bent and adjusted the damper in the ceiling of the fireplace, and almost instantly the fire began to glow. Replacing the poker he stood once more with his back to the fire watching his wife put packets and produce away in cupboards around the room. His patience would only last so long.

'Well,' he said, 'What do you think?' Harriet said nothing until the last of her shopping had been put in its correct place, then turning away a stray wisp of hair from her forehead, she stood facing him on the opposite side of the table.

'What do I think?' she said, pausing for a moment to ensure she had his full attention. 'I’ll tell you what I think. I think that it'll be alright for her to go.' She waited for her husband to respond, but William Henry was initially too shaken to make any response, he stood looking at her speechless. He was just about to make a reply when she lifted a hand to cut him off. 'Wait a minute William Henry,' she said. 'She’s soon to be married, isn’t she?' He nodded his head in agreement and made as though to say something. 'Give me a minute love. She’s soon to be married, and if her and Tommy want to pretend they are already married then there is not much we can do about it. They’ll find a way won’t they?' She smiled at him and William grinned at some memories from their own past. He nodded his head slowly and prepared to reply. Harriet continued, 'And do you not remember what the landlady at the bed and breakfast we stayed at was like that time we went?' She paused to allow him time to recall the short holiday they had had together at Blackpool, the year before they had become married. It had not been altogether satisfying for either of them. Another grin crossed his face shyly and he murmured a noise of agreement and said,

'Tell the truth, I’ve seen night watchmen with guard dogs friendlier than some of the Blackpool landladies.' She smiled at him and said,

'I can’t see them being able to get up to any mischief, can you?' William shuffled his feet and looked down at the home made rag rug where he stood.

'Suppose you’re right' he conceded eventually turning to regain his seat by the fire. He picked up his newspaper from the seat and opened it to start to read again. 'Can’t say I’m happy though.' he mumbled into the paper.

'Oh Willie, stop your worrying. If there’s anything going to go wrong, it’ll go wrong whether we are there or not. There’s nowt to be done about it. Just be settled with it now.' She looked at his head buried in the newspaper and said, 'You should be thankful she had the sense to ask you first and not me.' He looked over the top of the paper at her puzzled.

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'You should be thankful she knows she can wrap you round her little finger like she can. Asking you first was a clever move on her part. Gives you time to get used to the idea before you blew up at me.' Harriet grinned at him and picked up the kettle to refresh the pot of tea. And with that the conversation ended, for the time being.

Upstairs, Florence woke to hear the tail end of the conversation being carried on below her, but could make out nothing other than the sound of two voices. She rolled over onto her back, squinting at the bright late afternoon sunshine flowing in through the bedroom window, and wondered when would be the right time to go down and face the music. She listened as the voices stopped and then she waited another minute before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and taking a deep breath, left the bedroom to go downstairs.

In the kitchen her father was still in his chair by the fire silently reading the newspaper. Her mother was seated opposite him nursing a mug of tea in her hand and gazing into the flames from the range. She turned towards her at the sound of the door into the kitchen opening.

'Hello Ma' Florence said.

Harriet lifted the mug to her mouth and glanced over the rim, trying hard to stop the laughter she felt in her eyes coming to her mouth.

'Well young lady, do you have something to say to me?' She finally said. Florence leaned her hands against the back of the hard back chair nearest to her and shuffled her feet nervously as she looked down at the linoleum floor covering. It was cracked and worn in holes in places. She scuffed one toe against one of the cracks.

'Well, I suppose you know don’t you?' she said eventually almost under her breath.

'Yes I do.' her mother replied briskly. 'And what I want to know is why you felt you couldn’t ask me first, you had to go round my back and try creeping up to your Pa with your suggestion.' Florence looked up at her mother.

'Sorry Ma,' she muttered. 'It’s just that you weren’t home when I got in, so I asked Pa instead.' William Henry’s eyes did not move from the newspaper. Harriet sipped loudly from her tea.

'Well, your Pa and me have discussed it, and whilst we’re not completely happy, well, at least you asked and didn’t tell us any lies. So that’s a good thing for you.' Florence smiled guiltily at her mother and nodded her head silently.

'So you can go. But if you think you are going to get up to any funny business whist you are in Blackpool, well, let me tell you, you don’t know what Blackpool landladies are like.' She paused to allow this to sink in and then continued. 'When are you thinking of going, you and Mr Thomas Alfred Fletcher Lowe?'

Florence breathed a sigh of relief and smiled warmly at her mother.

'First week of Bolton Holidays Ma.' She replied. 'We were thinking of going on the Friday night when we’ve finished work and get the train, or perhaps first thing on Saturday morning, from Trinity Street.'

'I think you’d be better off getting the Saturday morning train our Flo. The crowds on the Friday night will be terrible. Trinity Street will be packed, they’ll have you waiting down the street just to get on the station.'

'Right, well, we’ll go Saturday morning then.' She replied, pausing for a moment. 'Anyway, that’ll give me time to get home from work and get packed properly.' Her mother nodded her head.

'Has Tommy got the place booked then?' she asked.

'No Ma, not yet. We were waiting ‘til you and Pa said it’s alright. If it’s alright, I’ll pop up to his house tonight to tell him so he can write off to the boarding house. Can I?' She put on her special pleading face, the one she normally only used for her father. Harriet smiled and replied,

'Aye, course it is love. You get yourself off after tea and tell him the news.' She thought for a second. 'I suppose his parents know about your plans do they?' Florence nodded her head gently, her eyes cast down again to the floor. 'Well, at least you had the sense to ask first.' Harriet said. 'Now you can give me a hand making the tea.' She rose from her seat and Florence came round the side of the table, and gave her mother a warm hug. 'Thanks Ma' she whispered, 'I’ll be alright you know.' Harriet nodded her head gently and turned towards the sink. Sunlight was blinding her through the kitchen window and dust speckles danced in its beams across the glass causing her eyes to water. Her daughter seemed to suddenly have grown up.

................................................

Saturday 25th June

Florence’s mother had been wrong about the crowds leaving Bolton for the coast on Friday evening, Saturday morning turned out to be just as busy. The crowds were enormous, with all the cotton mills and other employers in the town having closed for the two weeks annual Wakes Weeks holiday the night before.

It was a peculiarity of the Lancashire Cotton towns, but also some of the Yorkshire and Westmorland industrial towns that the Wakes Weeks had started in the first place. In Bolton some 36,000 people were employed in the mills from a total population of 160,000, with similar figures for the other cottons towns of Lancashire. When it became evident that the industry was the major income earner in the region, the mill owners realised that to close all the mills at the same time would create an enormous problem for the industry as a whole in potential loss of orders and income, so it was decided that the individual towns would close their mills at set times during the year. For Bolton it was the last week in June and the first week in July, with other towns in the region following suit over the years, their weeks preceding or tagging onto the end of other weeks.

As the effect of the closure dawned on other companies in the towns other industries followed on so that all industry closed. Local government services were run on a reduced staffing level during the fortnight the mills were closed. In practice it meant that during the period of the Wakes the town was virtually deserted. Many retail shops also closed entirely for the two week period following the practice of the mills, so that newspapers were sold on street corners and fresh vegetables available only from the main markets in the town. Shopkeepers themselves were forced to take a two week holiday, whether they liked it or not.

The crowds on the railway platform were six to eight people deep as Tommy clutched Florence’s hand, and kept her close to him to ward off the potential danger of being knocked under the incoming trains. Florence held a small hard brown cardboard suitcase in her hand and gripped Tommy’s hand with the other. The noise of the arriving and departing trains from the other platforms, together with the vast crowds would have caused her to panic had it not been for the fact that she worked in an environment which was equally as busy. She held tight onto Tommy’s hand, excitement bubbling over as she squeezed it tighter and tighter.

They waited outside the station on Trinity Street with crowds of other excited mill workers in the warmth of the summer sun. Though it was still not ten o’clock in the morning, the sunshine was promising a golden day. She and Tommy had queued for half an hour simply to get into the railway station on Trinity Street, even though Tommy had already bought return tickets for the journey to Blackpool. She had fidgeted impatiently whilst they had waited, smoothing down the new dress she wore and adjusting the wide new hat on her head..

'What are we waiting for Tommy?' she asked him, looking up into his dark brown eyes. He smiled down at her from beneath the smart new straw boater he had bought that week, especially for the holiday. Squeezing her hand he grinned down at her.

'Not be long now love, there must be extra trains being put on. It’s always the same the first day of the holidays. Don’t worry, we’ll get there in good time.' Florence grinned at him,

'In time for what Tommy?' she whispered quietly. Tommy looked down at her and squeezed her hand tighter.

'Never you mind young lady' he replied grinning.

The sound of a train approaching from the direction of Manchester on the platform where they were waiting caused a general increase in the level of noise amongst the crowds on the platform. The level increased to almost drown out the roar as the train approached amidst a cloud of smoke and hissing of steam from beneath the engine. Florence edged forward to meet the incoming train, Tommy held her back gently from standing too close to the edge of the platform. In a cloud of steam and smoke the train eventually drew to a shuddering halt, and there was a final united movement of the crowd to open doors. Tommy and Florence joined the rush, and using his shoulders and height Tommy managed to open the door at one end of the carriage.

'Oh Tommy, it’s a corridor train' Florence squealed in delight. They pushed their way through the crowds of people into the carriage, and into the first of the eight seat compartments, sliding the door open and edging through with the bulk of their suitcases. Tommy hoisted their two cases onto the overhead netting luggage racks then turned to help Florence place her coat on top of it.

'I’ll keep my hat on Tommy' she said, turning to settle into a seat close to the window. With a broad smile wreathing her face, she watched as Tommy set his own case in the rack and sat down opposite her, his knees almost touching hers.

'Well', he said 'Let’s get this thing moving.' Florence grinned at him and leaned across to take his hand in hers

'I’m so excited Tommy' she said. 'I can’t believe we are going off for a week. It’s going to be so good isn’t it?' Tommy smiled back, nodding his head in agreement, then settled back as he felt the jerk of the engine pulling against the dead of weight of the now fully loaded carriages. The journey was a little over an hour in length to Blackpool North railway station, and for the people on the train, this journey was as much a part of the holiday as the time they would spend in the resort.

Home Is A Strange Country Chapter Eight

 

EIGHT

Late July 1904

Throughout the second half of the month of July, Florence thought about little, other than the week she had spent with Tommy in Blackpool, and his impending departure to Plymouth to join the Royal Navy.

One day during the third week in July she left home as usual to go to work, taking her shawl from the hook by the kitchen door and wrapping it loosely around her shoulders, the weather was far too warm to contemplate wearing it over her head.

'I’m off to work Ma,' she called up stairs to her mother who was just starting to rise from her bed. William Henry was stumbling with sleep filled eyes around the bedroom and Harriet was still snuggled down under the blankets, wisely keeping out of her husband’s way.

'Right love.' she called down to her.

'Ma,' Florence added, 'I’m going to the library after work so don’t worry if I’m a bit late home today.' Florence waited for a moment for her mother’s reply, but there was none. Whilst Harriet had heard the words, she was too sleepy to take them in properly. Florence closed the front door behind her quietly stepping out into the early morning air which was already warmer than the warmest spring day.

As she started to walk up the street to the mill on Blackburn Road, almost immediately the front door of her neighbour Hettie opened. Hettie had been listening for and had heard the front door of her friends’ house open and then close. The two young women joined arms and gossiped together as they made their way to the mill.

During that day in the mill Florence told her friend Hettie of her plans to visit the library in the Exchange Building on Victoria Square to try and find any information on the royal Navy. The excitement made the day go quicker for Florence. She intended to become a wife who was involved with her husband and his job. She had interests which could be fostered and assuaged only by books and knowledge.

When the hooter sounded for the end of the working day, Florence left the mill alone and crossed over the road from the main entrance to the mill. She stood at the tram stop outside the Iron Church, tapping gently against the iron tram stop, and idly picking at paint which was flaking off the post, completely lost in thought. Crowds of noisy people from the mill brushed past her as she waited, and soon the street was quiet again as the mill emptied. The late afternoon sun was pleasantly warm, drifting her gently towards sleep, had she not been excitedly looking forward to her visit to the library. When finally the tram pulled up alongside her, she climbed aboard, giving the conductor her fare, before taking her seat close to a window. The trip into town did not take long and under normal circumstance she would not take the tram, but she felt justified today as she was going during the late afternoon, and there would be little enough time for her to search the books and periodicals before the library closed. Since its opening over fifty years earlier the Exchange Building on Victoria Square now housed over ten thousand books, and it was this treasury of knowledge and information which Florence needed to tap into to enlighten herself about her future husband's career.

Florence sat quietly almost alone for over an hour at a reading table in the library. The table was a long dark wooden affair with chairs made of the same hard material, which made the back of her knees numb after a time. She shifted restlessly from time to time when her legs threatened to ‘go to sleep,’ and turned the pages of the three books in front of her which she had found on the shelves. The male librarian had tried at first to point her in the direction of ‘women’s books,’ but she was determined, and searched for herself amongst the shelves, causing more than a few sideways glances from the other users of the library. Eventually a young woman librarian guided her to the only area of the library which might carry the information she sought, but even that was not really satisfying her needs. So she sat with three boys adventure books in front of her on the table, flicking through one to the other in search of information about life in the Royal Navy. The facts she gleaned from the books was minimal and aimed at a readership of excitement seeking youth, so she was not altogether disappointed when the librarian announced that the library was closing. She closed the books and left them on the table by the entrance, to be replaced by the staff, then left the building by the impressive solid wooden doors onto Victoria Square.

It was shortly after seven in the evening when she left. The sun was still high in the sky, a pleasant time, she thought, and a good time to walk home, though her stomach was telling her that it was long past her tea time. She left the town centre and walked along Higher Bridge Street and then onto Waterloo Street, her mind turning over the few facts she had learned. After some twenty minutes her feet had started to ache and her legs become tired. She stopped for a moment to rest on a low wall in front of a long line of houses, like hers, and gazed idly at the sky to the west. Between two large cotton mills opposite her the sky was starting to change from its cloudless clear light blue, to the almost rainbow coloured selection of tints which told her that evening was fast approaching. Along a line of roofs between and beyond the two mills, the sky was still a clear blue, but rising from that were the beginnings of night clouds, tipped with a broad range of colours which mesmerised her. The colours started from the lightest most delicate pink, onto light brownish greys and then changed once more to white and darker grey, but still very pleasant to see. Finally above the bank of clouds forming in the west the sky became a darker blue. It crossed her mind that the sky at the south coast where her Tommy was going to go would look different than here in the north, maybe, maybe not. The thought of joining him in marriage when he had signed up for the navy made her stomach tingle with excitement. She clicked her feet together as the thought made her smile, and she hopped down from the wall and continued home to 244 Waterloo Street.

Florence was over fifty yards from her front door when she realised that her mother’s head was peeping around the corner of the front door searching down the street towards where Florence was walking. Fearing that something was amiss, Florence quickened her pace. Harriet saw her coming and stepped down from the front step onto the street and beckoned with her outstretched arm for her to hurry home. Florence broke into a trot, her head down and her arms pulling the shawl tighter around her shoulders. 'What’s up Ma?' she asked breathlessly and with some level of fear in her voice.

'Your Tommy’s here to see you lass. He’s been here for an hour waiting. You should have said you were going to be this late, we had no idea.' Her mother took her by the arm and shepherded her through the front door, closing it behind her as Florence walked quickly through the hallway into the kitchen. Tommy was sat at the table talking to her father who was occupying his normal seat by the fire, which even though it was now well after seven in the evening, had still not been lit.

Tommy rose when she entered the room.

'What’s up Tommy?' she asked fearfully. He smiled broadly at her.

'I’ve got my papers,' he replied. She looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face.

'What do you mean?' she asked.

'I’ve been accepted into the Navy, and they want me to join on the first of August in Devonport.' Florence gasped and took a step towards him and slid her hand into his. He squeezed it gently. 'Good news eh love?' he said quietly.

'But it’s only a couple of weeks off Tommy.' She stuttered. 'I thought we were to be wed first.' Tears formed in her eyes and overflowed onto her cheeks.

'Eh love, don’t be worrying yourself. We’ll be wed soon enough, it just means they want me quickly,' he said to her gently. Florence stood before him, soft sobbing noises hiccupped from her throat as she took in the news, and her mind whirled to try and put the plans they had made into some sort of new order. Relieved that there was nothing amiss, she slumped down on one of the chairs by the table, and pulled Tommy back down to the one he had been seated on when she had entered the room.

'So what’s going to happen then?' she finally asked. Tommy smiled at her and glanced over her shoulder at Harriet standing in the doorway. Mrs Hadfield was stood with her arms folded, one hand loosed itself and she stroked a lock of stray grey hair back from her forehead.

'Well, I can’t tell them to hang on and I’ll be there when I can, now can I?' he joked. 'I’ll have to go there for the start of August and start my Seaman’s training, but then I will be going on to do some specialised training to become an Artificer.' He paused to let this sink in, which it did, but slowly. The fearful look on Florence’s face eased a little. She dabbed at the tears on her cheeks with the corner of her shawl.

'Then what?' she asked.

'Well,' he said. 'I suppose they might give me a few days off at the end of all that, ‘cos I’ll be living onboard HMS Warrior in Devonport when I first start, that’s what they’ve said anyway. Then I’ll be going to some other training ship for the electrical training, and I thought that’s when we could be married.' He smiled at her warmly, his eyes lit up with anticipation. Florence gasped at his news, then allowed a smile to reply to his, and wiped another tear from her face.

'So, when do you think this is going to be then Tommy?' she asked. He let her hand drop and threw his hand up in the air in frustration.

'I don’t know love, but it’ll be as soon as I can make it. You can be sure of that. I don’t want to leave it any longer than I have to do I?' She took his hand again.

'No, no. Of course not Tommy. It’s just, I thought we would be married before you went away.' She paused and then carried on. 'If you’re sure love, then that’s what we’ll do.' Tommy smiled warmly at her and pulled her gently towards her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her, but not in front of her parents.

'As soon as I get to Devonport I’ll write, and I’ll write at least twice a week whilst I’m at HMS Warrior. As soon as I know anything about married quarters and such, then we’ll get wed.' She smiled once more at him. 'Is that alright then love?' he asked. She grinned mischievously at him.

'Suppose it’ll have to won’t it?' she muttered, her head dropping down into her chest so he could not properly see her teasing grinning face. She turned around to face her mother.

'So, it looks like my sailor boy is leaving me for another woman Ma.' she said. Harriet let out a shocked gasp.

'He said nothing of the kind young lady. What on earth do you mean?' Florence turned back to Tommy.

'Well,' she said, grinning once again. 'They always say a ship is a woman don’t they?' Tommy burst out into loud laughter and taking her in his arms squeezed her tightly.

'You minx!' he said. 'One of these days,' he left the sentence unfinished. Everyone was pleased with the news, and the outcome which Tommy had proposed. Though it was only a week or two before he would leave the town where he was born, Florence felt it would not be long before she would be married to him and would join him in his new life. Her new life, away from the mills of the north.

Home Is A Strange Country Chapter Nine

 

NINE

August – December 1904

The train lurched to a stop at Saltash station. Tommy rose unsteadily to his feet and turned to lift down his suitcase from the overhead luggage rack. The train finally stopped as he gripped the single case from over his head and hefted it down onto the floor at his feet. He bent forward to more easily take his first glance through the carriage window at the station, and the life in front of him. The station was quite close to the Devonport dockyard he had been instructed to report to for his induction into the Royal Navy, and at the end of his overnight train journey from Bolton he was excited and a little apprehensive.

The first leg of the train journey from Bolton had taken him to Manchester, where he had then connected with the overnight train to London. In a bewildered frame of mind he had trudged across the city in the early morning light to catch the milk train to the west country city of Plymouth. Now, he was here. Now would begin the first day of his twenty two years of service in the Royal Navy. Stepping down from the train onto the platform he was aware that there appeared to be only two sorts of passengers on the train with him. The first, and most obvious were sailors, decked out in their blue bell bottom trousers and white ribboned tunics and flat caps marked with the name of their ship around the brim. All of them appeared to be carrying white tubular kitbags which they expertly slung over their shoulders, and stepped with a rolling gait to the exit of the station. They all appeared to know each other and chatted amiably amongst themselves as they made their way to the exit door. The other group of people was the one into which Tommy belonged, the single males in civilian clothing. From his first glance it appeared that he was one of the oldest in the group who singly made their way to follow the line of sailors from the station platform. As the group made to the exit they were forced to form into a single line to manage their cases and kitbags through a simple wicket gate at the stations edge. The ticket collector waiting for them at the gate examined and then punched the ticket they offered him. Tommy nodded to the official and followed the straggling line of sailors making their way towards the entrance to the dockyard.

The gateway was impressive, made of very large whitish stones. Two marines in uniform were standing on either side of the opening and carrying long menacing rifles in their hands, preventing anyone entering. At first Tommy thought they were sailors, but they were in fact Royal Marines. He watched ahead of him and learned from their actions what was required of him as the sailors showed one or other of the marines a pass which they fished from an inside pocket of their tunic. Tommy stopped at the end of the short queue behind another civilian and listened to the conversation taking place between the marines and the civilians. The marines were none too polite, and treated the newcomers to His Majesty’s Royal Navy as something rather less than human. Tommy watched as the young man in front of him stopped and tried to speak to the marine.

'Fuck me! Don’t tell me you’re lost already son.' Said the marine. The young man blushed and started to say something.

'Thank fuck we got the marines to fight for the country is all I can say, if this is the best that England can come up with the to join the fucking Navy.' He stood head and shoulders above the unfortunate youth in front of Tommy who was made even taller by the uniform hat he wore. 'You are for the fucking Navy aren’t you son? You wouldn't fucking make it in the Marines,' he asked in a voice dripping with malicious sarcasm. He stuck out his hand to snatch the piece of paper the unfortunate blushing youth held out for the marine's inspection. The marine glanced briefly at the instruction sheet and pointed to a low single storey building a hundred yards away into the main area of the dockyard.

'Think you can manage to get yourself to that nice black door over there my little boy?' The youth nodded from beneath his flushed brow and cheeks and shuffled forward without replying. Tommy stepped forward and held out his joining instruction to the marine, and looked him fiercely in the eye. The marine glanced down again at the sheet and was about to say something equally acidic to Tommy when he realised the man in front of him was some years older than him, and stood just as tall and proudly as he did. For a second he thought about making a comment then decided that it could well be that the man before him was potentially going to be his senior in a short space of time, and thought better of making a sarcastic comment.

'Black door on the right of the first building ahead of you' he said pointing in the direction of the back of the retreating youth who had gone before him. Tommy nodded his thanks silently and strode on into the yard.

The building with the black door was made from the same pale greyish white stone as all the other buildings in the dockyard which he could see stretching out before him to the sea. He stopped before entering the painted door and put his case down on the floor at his feet. Looking around him he could see the decks and masts of various ships in the dockyard and wondered which one he would be appointed to.

The buildings, some of them appearing to be several stories high, some of them single stories, were all made from the same uniform grey stone, and all were painted with the same black tiled roofs, black doors and black drainpipes and gutters. After inspecting his surroundings for a moment he picked up his case and opened the door of the building. Inside it was bare other than for three tables set out in a line close to the far wall from the door he had entered by. Behind each table sat a sailor, and behind them wandered someone who, judging from his uniform, was an officer. From time to time the officer would wander from one desk to the next, peering over the shoulder of the sailor who was questioning the civilian stood before him. After the questioning the sailor would then fill in a form on the table in front of him. Tommy stepped over the threshold of the door and stood motionless for a moment until a voice in an accent he could not recognise shouted from his right hand side.

'Don’t just stand there laddie, move to one of the desks and wait until you’re called.' Tommy looked round to see who was addressing him. It was a sailor who appeared to be almost as round as he was tall but with a fierce looking beard adorning his face.

'Yes sir.' Tommy muttered and moved to the middle of the three desks where it appeared nobody was waiting behind the man sitting at the table. He waited for two or three minutes for the man in front to be processed, aware that the sailor at the door appeared to have no other function other than to scream at the newcomers as they made their entrance through the door into the cold bare room. The chair at the desk in front of him was vacated and the occupant walked off to a door at the far left of his view. Tommy waited at the table before the sailor making the notes. The man looked up from his desk and indicated to Tommy with a nod of the head to sit at the desk. Tommy handed over the forms he had brought with him and the sailor flattened them with one hand whilst glancing at the name on the top of them.

'Thomas Alfred Fletcher Lowe?' he said slowly. 'That you?'

'Yes sir' Tommy replied.

'I’m not a sir,' the sailor answered sharply. 'Don’t fucking call me sir, laddie. I’m a Leading Hand.' Using the pen in his right hand he tapped the small anchor badge on his left upper arm and without comment continued, 'I work too fucking hard to be called a sir.' He continued to read through the information Tommy had supplied on the form.

'Right,' he said finally. 'So, you want to sign up to be an Electrical Artificer then do you?'

'That’s right' Tommy answered. The Leading Hand looked up at him.

'That’s a good job if you can get on it, and from what you’ve put in your ‘Experience’ section, I should think you’ll do it my lad.' He looked at Tommy in the eye and suddenly realised that the man before him was probably the same age or maybe a year older than him.

'Why you joining the Andrew then Thomas Alfred Fletcher Lowe?' Tommy looked silently at the Leading Hand, a quizzical expression on his face.

'The Andrew is what we in the service call the Royal Navy.' The Leading Hand said. 'That's the first thing you have learned, and you’re not even in yet,' he smiled at Tommy. 'First thing is to get you signed up and then get rid of that long bloody name of yours.' He pushed forward a form which had been filled in with Tommy’s details. Tommy read through it and picked up the pen he was offered by the sailor.

'Sign at the bottom Thomas Alfred Fletcher Lowe' he said. Tommy signed. 'Right then. You need to go through that door to your left.' He indicated with his right hand the door at the end of the long room which he had seen the previous man go through. 'You’ll have a medical examination, then if you pass that you’ll wait with the others until the lot of you have finished, then the officer will come and talk to you, and then you’ll swear an oath to the King.' He grinned. 'Then you get the Kings Shilling and you’re in. Any questions?'

Tommy recovered the papers the Leading Hand had pushed across the desk to him and shuffled them into a neat pile.

'What’s this about changing my name?' he asked.

'Well,' The Leading Hand looked him squarely in the face grinning, 'You can’t go through your whole Naval career with a name like Thomas Alfred Fletcher Lowe can you? People would die of thirst trying to say that name every time they want you for something. With initials like you have there is only one name for you isn’t there? From now on you'll be Taff Lowe. Got it?' He sat back in his chair as Tommy flicked his eyes up to those of the Leading Hand. He did not like it, but knew it was a minor, and probably unwise, thing to complain about at this early stage in his service. No sense in making too many enemies so early in life. He nodded and pushed back the chair, rising to his feet.

'Is that all then?' he asked. The Leading Hand nodded and pointed to the door at the far end of the building.

'Off you go then Taff' he said quietly, watching Tommy as he walked away from the table.

The medical examination, it appeared to Taff, was little more than checking that his body contained two of everything where two were required, and one thing where only one was required. It was not as thorough as he had anticipated, and in fact he soon realised that nobody at all was refused admission to the ranks at this stage, provided they could make it to Devonport under their own steam. When the medicals were completed the group of recruits assembled again in the main part of the building. A second Leading Hand came into the room and the men in it fell silent.

'Right you lot. Sit down. Shut up, and listen to what the officer is going to say to you' he said. The men sat down on the lines of chairs set out facing the front of the room. Tommy looked around. There were twenty men in the room. A door at the end of the room opened and an elderly man, or so it seemed to Tommy, came in. He was obviously a senior officer judging by the rings on his cuffs and medal ribbons on his chest. He looked them in the eye, running his eye from one row to another. There followed a long drawn out talk by the officer about the immediate future they could expect on board one of His Majesties ships, and then they took an oath. At that stage, Taff was a mere eight thousand and twenty nine days off retiring from His Majesty's Royal Navy.

Although the whole day had been quite long and involved a lot of waiting around, or so it seemed, Taff was still excited at the end of the day with all that he had been through. Until, that was, he saw the ship he had been assigned to for his initial training. HMS Defiance lay in the bay off the edge of the dockyard, and it was made of wood. Not only was it made of wood, but the deck was flat, having had all the masts removed and a simple roofed superstructure constructed over the back half of the ship. His heart sank. Taff was dismayed when he saw it, feeling that although it was a training ship, it should have been more up to date than one made of wood. He learned more when he eventually settled in on board the ship. It was a specialist training ship for those wishing to become electrical trades specialists, which for the Navy included torpedoes, but this was some months off. This fact alone excited him, as he knew that once his training was complete he would be posted to more or less anywhere he wished within the Navy, and already Thomas had his eye set on the warmer exciting climate of the Pacific Ocean.

What came to him as a great relief however, was when the officer in charge of their initial reception made it clear that what appeared to be a Napoleonic wreck lying offshore was anything but that. Although it was the last wooden ship constructed for the British Navy, and had never ‘fired a shot in anger,’ it was in fact simply there to provide accommodation for those men doing training courses in the electrical and torpedo trades. For their initial training as sailors, they would live in barrack style buildings in Devonport.

During his period of initial training, when they taught him how to be a sailor, Taff made quite a good name for himself, and impressed those who taught him. His previous work experience in the mills of Bolton had taught him much more than simply how to pick up new skills and habits. More importantly it had taught him how to ‘keep his nose clean,’ which in turn made him a popular figure with other more senior ranks. Other than being something of a guide and example to the younger men, it came to be known that Taff Lowe could be trusted to do a job properly and efficiently with the minimum of supervision, which in turn meant that those supervising him had an easy time. He picked up quickly any instructions given to him and the group he trained with, and carried out instructions promptly to their satisfaction. Taff progressed.

He learned where and what the ‘heads’ were. How and why his bellbottomed trousers had to be ironed so that creases went horizontally across the width of the leg and not down the middle like other services. How to tie the ribbon on his cap, and how not to wear it at an angle on his head, unless he wished to earn the scorn and wrath of the Pusser, and what a Pusser was, together with the other ranks onboard the ships in which he would serve. He learned the history of the navy. He understood about his mess and divisions and how to keep out of the way of punishment for peccadilloes and misdemeanours. He learned also the joy of the daily rum ‘Tot’ and why younger sailors were not given a full ‘Tot’ but one weakened with water. He learned the mess desk traditions between friends of ‘sipper’s and ‘gulpers,’ and the hours of fun to be had playing ‘uckers.’ He learned why the service he had entered was also called ‘the Andrew,’ or the ‘Grey funnel Line,’ and why he was known as ‘Jack.' During the initial training period he came more and more to love the traditions of the navy and its history, and became proud of the service he had entered, proud to salute the quarter deck each time he came onboard and to understand why he did it.

During his free time he discovered, with his newly found friends in the service, the joys and pitfalls of the local pubs in Plymouth and Devonport, and in so doing made new friends from outside the service, perhaps because of his age, and perhaps his previous life in the north of the country. Yet, despite all the things he was forced to learn, all the tricks he picked up and the habits he formed, he did not forget the beautiful young girl he had left behind at home in Bolton. He wrote to Florence two or three times a week, sometimes long letters telling her everything about his new life, sometimes they were short ones when time was short and he was forced to rush from one instructional class to another. Each letter was received gladly by Florence and she replied to each one as soon as she received it. Finally, in one which arrived during late September, he spoke to her about the end of his initial training period when he would be granted a week's leave. He suggested to her that she catch the train down to Devonport to spend the week with her, and that they would be married.

The day the letter arrived Florence read it through twice before slowly folding the two pages and replacing them in the envelope in which they had arrived. She placed the envelope on the kitchen table where she and her father had been sat and where her mother had been cooking their tea. Her youngest brother Victor, then aged five, was playing around her feet under the table. She kicked out at him gently as he rolled over onto his back and on her foot.

'Will you stop it!' she snapped. Her father looked sideways at her from his evening paper.

'What’s up with you lass?' he asked, eyeing the envelope on the table. 'Bad news from Tommy?' Florence nudged Victor again with her toe.

'No, nothing like that Pa.' She paused, wondering how she was going to break the news of Tommy’s suggestion to her parents. William Henry stared at her silently, realising that there had been something in the letter which had disturbed her, but did not want to push her to disclose the contents of the letter until she was ready. Florence looked at him for a moment, then her eyes dropped to the envelope on the table, she nudged it with her fingers.

'It’s Tommy,' she began. On hearing her future son in law's name her mother turned from the kitchen sink, her hands holding a potato peeler and a potato. She paused in her work.

'What’s wrong with him love?' she asked quietly. 'Is he alright? He's not sick is he?'

'Oh there’s nothing wrong with him, he’s fine. Seems to be doing right well with his training.' Florence paused and picked at the corner of the envelope with her finger nail. She took a deep breath. 'He wants me to go and stay with him in Devonport for a week when he finishes his training, before he starts his electricians training.' She felt both her parents intake of breath and continued, 'And he wants us to be married in a church in Plymouth.' She broke into a wide smile. 'What do you think Ma?'

Harriet glanced across the small room to her husband, who folded the Bolton Evening News and tucked it down by the side of the cushion on which he was seated. They exchanged glances, and in those glances, like all long married couples, exchanged their own thoughts and opinions. William Henry nodded his head imperceptibly and Harriet briefly nodded hers in agreement.

'Well, if he can’t get home then, I think it’s a grand idea love. It's not as though it's a new idea is it?' Harriet replied, smiling sideways at her daughter.

............................................................

The countryside dashed alongside the train in an apparently unending scrolled picture. Florence sat alone, perched on the edge of the bench seat in the second class compartment. She had the compartment to herself and had selected the seat closest to the window for the whole of the journey to London. In the last letter he had written to her, Tommy had given her detailed instructions about how to cross London to get to the correct railway station to connect with her train to Plymouth. Silently she repeated the written instructions in her mind as the train barrelled on. Towns she had never seen, fields and buildings she had never known exist rolled on and on, occasionally making her feel drowsy enough to want to close her eyes, but this was the biggest journey she had ever made and she wanted to inhale with her eyes all the different scenes unfolding before her. After an hour though the tiredness overtook her and she settled back in the seat and temporarily closed her eyes. It was just enough to make her fall asleep.

When she woke it was the slowing down of the train, and the change in the rhythm of the wheels on the tracks, which awoke her. She started awake and in a panic wondered if she had missed her station, then smiled to herself when she realised that the train journey ended at London, so she couldn’t have overslept. When eventually the train stopped at the station in London she was already standing with her small suitcase at the door of the train waiting for a guard to open it and allow her onto the platform. The door opened and a gust of air filled with different strange smells forced their way into the train from the station platform. She glanced down and carefully placed one foot on the step down from the train onto the platform, then joined the crowd of people who had already started to walk to the exit of the station. For a moment she wondered if she was doing the right thing, following the crowd off the station. She mentally nudged herself as she guessed that these would be regular travellers, and it was only she who was a complete newcomer to London. They knew where they were going, so it would be fine to follow them. Despite the warnings from her father about the dangers rife on the streets of the city, she felt as safe and confident as would be normal for a young inexperienced woman of her age. Youth gave her the confidence to know absolutely that nothing would harm her, she was invincible. Her lack of experience gave her the confidence to walk smartly along with her head held high. She was on her way to become a married woman. To become the wife of a member of His Majesty's Royal Navy. Nothing could harm her. She walked on with confidence and a lively spring in her step. She carried the small case in her hand, negotiating the streets from one station to the other, but became increasingly fatigued as time wore on and the warmth of the city streets wore her down. In the end she decided to take a cab to the Metropolitan Terminus of the Great Western Railway at Paddington where she sat down thankfully on a bench on the crowded concourse, to await the afternoon train to Plymouth.

As she sat on the seat against the wall of the station, she arranged her coat around her to ward off the draughts coming, it appeared, from every direction around her. Craning her head to look at the curved roof high above her head she marvelled at the enormous length of the station and its four platforms, crowded with people, porters, ticket collectors, luggage trucks and small mountains of baggage. Having purchased her ticket in the booking hall, she went through onto the platform concourse where she found a seat amongst the crowds of people leaving the station and others, like her, waiting for their train. She glanced at her ticket and then looked around to find an indication as to where her train, The Cornishman, would leave from. Unable to see the timetable display she rose from her seat and approached a stern looking man wearing the uniform of the Great Western and stopped in front of him.

'Excuse me Sir,' she said, looking up into his face and under the peak of the flat cap her wore perched on the back of his head. He looked down at her and smiled.

'Yes Madam' he said, 'Can I help you?'

'The Cornishman. Do you know what platform it goes from please?' Florence asked. He looked at her quizzically and smiled again.

'From the north are you?' he asked, finally placing her accent.

'Yes Sir. Bolton in Lancashire. I’m goin' to Plymouth to see my fiancé. We’re goin' to be married.' His face glowed with a warm friendly smile.

'Well then my dear, we can’t have you late for the Cornishman can we?' His accent sounded strange to her ears. It was Cockney she supposed. He half turned and pointed his arm along one of the platforms. 'It’s that platform over there, number four. Train will be leaving in about twenty minutes, spot on time.' Florence followed his pointed direction and nodded.

'Thank you sir.' She said and started to move off towards the end of the platform he had directed her to.

She sat again on one of the benches by the side wall of the station and watched and waited until her train arrived in the station. The Cornishman was immediately recognisable from its name clearly displayed on the front and side of the engine, as well as on the roof boards above the windows on the sides of its carriages. A thrill of anticipation shivered through her as she looked at the beautiful carriages, so much more resplendent than the Lancashire and Yorkshire drab colours she had ridden from Bolton. This is it, she thought. The last leg of the journey. Soon be seeing Tommy again. Lifting her suitcase in her hand she made her way into one of the second class carriages, placed her small case in the net luggage rack above the seats and settled down again in a corner seat to begin the long journey to Plymouth.

Long though it was, there were times when she became physically sick and frightened by the speed at which the train travelled. At times the view from her window was nothing more than a blur of colours and shapes, she could not even make out the buildings they passed, unless she concentrated her eyes on the far horizon. When she attempted to look at objects or buildings close to the track they were so blurred by the speed that they were unrecognisable. There was no one else in her carriage to calm her fears, until a conductor opened the door into the compartment and requested her ticket. Florence fumbled in her pocket and handed over the ticket to the conductor.

'How fast are we going Sir?' she asked the man in as strong a voice as she could muster. The man smiled kindly at her and, realised that she was unaccustomed to the speed of modern trains. Grinning at her with cheeky eyes he asked her,

'Well young lady, what speed do you think we have been doing then?' His accent seemed strange, almost foreign, to Florence's ear. To anyone who knew, they would recognise his West Country accent. Florence thought it warm and fuzzy and smiled back at him. She had no idea of the speed at which they were travelling.

'I don’t know sir,' she said softly, her Lancashire accent striking his ear strangely.

'Well, at some points on the journey we will be doing a hundred miles an hour, but we are normally doing about sixty to seventy miles an hour.' Florence was speechless and looked fearfully out of the window and her hand reached out to steady herself on the window sill.

'So fast?' she asked incredulously, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

'Yes really Miss. One hundred miles an hour downhill into Somerset. But we’re not there yet, so don’t you worry yourself. The Great Western has a very good safety record. The train driver would not go so fast as to make it dangerous for you. Not if I tell him there is a pretty young lady in second class who is worried for her safety.' He paused and smiled at her. Florence blushed at the familiarity from the stranger but did not feel ill at ease. She nodded her head.

'Thank you Sir.' She said softly and glanced back at the blurring images through the window.

Several hours later, as the train carved its swift way through the countryside of the south of England, she caught sight of the sea in the distance beyond the hills to the left of the railway line. The sudden glimpses of water in the distance made her heart tumble and race. It would not be long now before she would see her Tommy again. As the distance to Plymouth grew less and less, the sky grew darker and darker in the mid November light, until the sky merged with the sea, and could only be distinguished by the lights from buildings near to the sea, and those of lights on ships on the ocean. Overhead the sky became a thick cloud ridden blanket, and night fell over the whole of the countryside. Florence could soon see nothing beyond the train other than her own reflection in the carriage window by her side. The darkening sky made a mirror of the plain glass. Try as she might, she was unable to make out any detail in the fleeting countryside, and so settled down to wait patiently for the time when the train would pull into Plymouth station.

Once the light had failed completely she tried to sit calmly and simply watch the occasional light from the window and her flickering reflection in its glass, wondering from time to time where exactly she was. A panic stricken thought wormed itself into her mind. What if Tommy was not there? What if he had ditched her and was not waiting for her at the station? She sat nervously on the edge of the seat, sweat breaking out on her brow. A sob broke from her throat and she felt her heart racing as the thoughts hit her. She was lost in a mixture of horrible tormenting thoughts when the train started to slow as it prepared to arrive at Plymouth station. She heard the brakes screech and the rhythm of the wheels change, as the train slowly came to a juddering halt under the wooden canopy of the platform. Lights showed her the outline of buildings, doorways into waiting rooms and ticket offices. People moved easily along the platforms looking for and finding their trains and destinations. Conductors and station clerks, and men wheeling small carts with luggage piled high on them, dodged each other and the passengers waiting for their trains. Florence rose from her seat and turned to lift the case from above her head. As the train came to a final halt she lurched forward, her knees banging against the seat. Finally it stopped, and taking her suitcase, she went to leave the train.

On the station platform Taff waited for the train from London. Having paid a penny for a platform ticket from the ticket office, he discovered that he was one of several sailors waiting on the platform. Good natured banter flowed from one small group standing a few yards along the platform from Taff. He stood alone and ignored them, his patience wearing thinner and thinner as their banter started to annoy him, and the cold November weather conspired to annoy him even more. After some thirty or more minutes the sound of the train approaching the station cheered his spirits and he moved slowly towards the edge of the platform to catch a first glimpse of his Flo.

The train pulled to a huffing puffing halt close to the edge of the platform, and the small crowd of sailors and others instinctively moved back a little, to allow the doors to be opened and the passengers alight. The doors opened one by one along the length of the train Taff, and strained to try and catch a first glimpse of his future wife, and suddenly there she was. Smaller than he remembered, but just as pretty. She was wearing her long woollen coat and had clamped a wide brimmed hat to her head, as the wind from the station threatened to steal it from her. Taff pushed through the small crowd before him to half run and half trot to finally stand in front of her. She spotted him as he moved towards her in the darkness, his form made clear only when he passed by one of the open doorways of the waiting rooms, and then into darkness again, an almost formless, but recognisable, shadow moving towards her. She stopped in the middle of the platform and placed her suitcase carefully on it then opened her arms to welcome him to her. Taff stopped in front of her and for a second looked into her eyes and smiled widely.

'Hello love. You are a sight for sore eyes.' He said smiling. She grinned at him and threw her arms around his neck planting a kiss on his cheek.

'Hello Tommy love. You don’t know how much I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.' Florence said, the thoughts and fears of a few minutes ago now gone completely from her head. She was here, and so was her Tommy.

Home Is A Stange Country Chapter Ten

 

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 19^th. 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 19^th 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.