Custard Tarts and Broken Hearts Read Online Free Page A

think he could let me have a bit of a life.’
    They didn’t dare light the lamp, so in the darkness, Alice helped Nellie out of her blouse and skirt. And when they were in bed, the sisters put their arms round each other, till they had both stopped shaking.

3
    A Day Out
    Fine pale powder hung in clouds above the women, drifting down slowly to cover window sills and walls with a gritty veneer. A blazing August sun glared through the high windows, striping the mote-filled air with light, turning the powder into a fine gold dust. It billowed up in vanilla-scented blooms each time a woman reached to fill a new packet at the delivery chutes, which ran in straight lines down the length of the factory floor. The women stood at a long bench, where one pulled a lever to release custard powder into an empty packet, then passed it on to her neighbour who deftly pasted it closed, while the third in the team stacked filled packets on to a trolley cart. Above the women, a cat’s cradle of steam-driven belts chugged and clattered, filling the vast hoppers that fed the delivery chutes. Unending streams of cloying powder chuted down, sending up yet more clouds of choking yellow smoke. Though the women wore rough cotton smocks, all were covered in a fine, sticky coating of custard powder.
    Nellie Clark licked her lips, sweet, always sweet. Sometimes she longed for a trickle of sweat to reach her lips, just for the blessed difference of salt. On a day like today, she was likely to get her wish. It was sweltering in the factory and Nellie was suffering, in her voluminous cotton smock. The thought of putting on her best wool jacket made her feel faint. But they had decided to wear their best, and as she only had one good jacket, the woollen one it had to be. At least no one would be able to say that Bermondsey girls didn’t look smart. She looked at the clock. Not long now. She licked her lips again and tasted salt. Sweat beaded her upper lip and her face was covered with a sheen of moisture. She brushed her damp brow with the back of her hand, tucking away a strand of chestnut hair, and glanced over at Lily. Lily nodded towards the clock and mouthed, ‘Ten minutes.’
    ‘I’m not sure I can last ten more seconds in this oven!’ she whispered back.
    And when it came to it, could she go through with it?She liked to think she was strong, but even at sixteen years old and a woman earning her own keep, it irked her that her father could still make her quail like a child. The rows over her late arrival home, on the night of the meeting, had lasted for weeks. He would surely throw her out for this.
    Nellie raised her blue eyes at the thought and blew out an overheated breath, which lifted another dank lock of hair from her forehead. Her stomach was churning, though whether from fear or excitement, she couldn’t tell. Other women around her were getting fidgety. Ethel Brown, a rotund woman in her forties, was turning an ever deeper shade of lobster. Nellie had caught a glimpse of a feather boa under her bench. Maggie Tyrell was rooting around in a bag at her feet and Nellie spotted a black straw hat, with green feathers.
    Suddenly she noticed a change in the sounds filtering through the high windows. Distant shouts at first, then snatches of song drifted in. Women’s voices sang out, high and excited: Are we downhearted no, no, NO! The chanting was coming closer and closer. Then the sound of feet, lots of them, hundreds of feet, boots ringing on the cobbles. The chatter of the women around her ceased, as they registered the noise of the approaching crowd. Just as the clock struck eleven, Nellie found herself standing up. Suddenly she was flooded with the knowledge that she could do it! She wasn’t on her own. But still her legs felt like jelly and a queasiness lurched in the pit of her stomach.
    More than a hundred women rose, as one, from their benches and ran to the windows, craning their heads, looking down on to the street below to see