First up so no one is disappointed a piccie of the day.
You will remember that last week I shared the first scene
from my new WIP Hilda.
I had been thinking the plot through for some time but last
Monday was the first time I actually put “finger to keyboard” (I absolutely almost
never use a pen for my writing). Well things have been progressing amazingly
well, I have written seven scenes since that first, it is like the words are
bubbling up from a wondrous spring. To be sure it will be a long time before it
looks anything like a book, and given my usual path at least a third of the
scenes will end up trashed in my first re-write, but I am having fun!
Now to celebrate my progress here is the second scene from
Hilda (like the first this is an unedited draft,)
1910
The
laundry stood in the yard in its own little brick building out the back. Down
on her hands and knees Hilda crumpled up some newspaper before laying kindling
in the hearth under the laundry copper. As she struck a match, holding it to an
edge of the crumpled paper until the flame caught, she held back the tears, her
mum hadn’t really punished her, but… but it was so hard being a girl. ‘If I
were a boy and as good at maths they’d be thinking about a scholarship to the Grammar
School.’
‘If
wishes were horses we should all ride.’
Hilda
nearly jumped out of her skin, ‘Dad!’
Charles
Attewell stood framed in the laundry doorway, never tall the twisted leg that
had ended his first career as a jockey made him lean to one side and emphasized
how small he was, ‘What’s wrong Duck?’
‘I let
the fire out, Mum was cross.’
‘Dreaming
again Duck?’
‘I was
working a maths problem.’
‘Maths?’
he smiled, Hilda loved her dad’s smile, he smiled easily and often and drew you
in with it. For the moment at least he was laughing at her, ‘As I said
dreaming.’
Despite
the smile she worried, was he going to be angry with her too? His smile said
no, but she knew he was as set on her future as her mother was. Girls did not
follow their dreams, she stood miserably without a word. ‘There’s no harm in
dreams Duck, but you shouldn’t let them interfere with day to day.’
‘But Dad,
I am so good at maths. Miss Wilson says…’
‘No
Duck.’ He frowned, ‘Say we did find a way to get you to the Grammar School,
what would you do then?’
‘I’d find
something.’
‘What
Duck? There is no scholarships for girls to the universities, and even if you
got there what would you do then? The public service doesn’t take women.
Doctors and Solicitors and the like is all men.’
Hilda
felt tears coming again, ‘I’m sure I could do something. Miss Wilson…’
‘No Duck
that’s not for you. The only job open to women with an education is teaching.
But that is no good for you either. You’d end up in some village who knows
where. Away from your folk and friends, among strangers. You’d wither and die.’
‘Miss
Wilson is happy enough.’
Charles
frowned, ‘I’ll grant you that. But her is the daughter of a vicar, or a lawyer
or some such. People pay her the respect due to her station. How much respect
do you think would be paid to a girl who is the daughter of an estate worker?’
‘You’re a
master cabinet maker Dad. Not no farm worker.’
‘That
fire needs some coal on it Duck, or you’ll be letting it out again.’
Hilda,
flustered, dropped back onto her knees. She reached into the coal scuttle,
carefully she laid smaller chunks of coal over and around the hotly burning
kindling.
Charles
spoke from behind her, ‘I am proud of my work. I am master cabinet maker
because I am the best. Mind you it didn’t hurt me that I won Lord Shirley a few
fat purses before I took my tumble. Yes I am master of the cabinet shop and
have half a dozen cabinet makers and apprentices under me. I give your mother
and my children a comfortable life. But my little Duck, I am over a workshop
that belongs to Ettington Park. I am not my own man.’
He paused
considering, ‘In my dreams I win the Grand National. But that don’t stop me
doing my work each day. You is a girl on an estate, whatever your dreams you
will be going into service when you finish your schooling. A few years of that
and then no doubt you’ll marry some nice boy and start a family of your own.’
He leaned
against the door frame to take the weight off his twisted leg. ‘That is your
lot Duck, whether you want it or not. You’ll be much happier with that lot if
you accept it and leave your dreams as that. Dream your dreams and enjoy what
you do. We only get one go at this life, the best you can do is be content with
your lot.’
‘But
surely there has to be more than that. More than just being happy with your lot.’
‘Not much more for the likes of you and me Duck. There is things you can
change by the dint of hard work. But some you can’t. You is a girl and there is
no changing that. You’ll be happier if you enjoy that which you can, and accept
the rest.’
3 comments:
Love the nickname 'Duck'. I'm working on a historical piece too, although mine is set in 1939 and there are some advances since 1910, still there was a lot of societal judgement on how women should behave.
Sounds like this story will form itself - happy writing :)
Poor Duck!! Awwww but I like her dad and I hope her dad will help her realise her dream - it's terrible to think girls and women were once treated like so!! Good for Duck! Take care
x
Seven scenes? That's amazing! I'm glad you're enjoying it. I think that makes for a good book! :)
I loved the nickname Duck, too.
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