The Emma Harte 7-Book Collection: A Woman of Substance, Hold the Dream, To Be the Best, Emma’s Secret, Unexpected Blessings, Just Rewards, Breaking the Rules. Barbara Taylor BradfordЧитать онлайн книгу.
from the streetlamp a few feet away, David and Victor were clearly illuminated. Emma looked from the solemn Victor to the laughing David and thought: They are so different but they are both very genuine. She gave her hand to Victor. ‘Thank you for bringing me home. Goodbye,’ she said.
Victor gripped her hand with firmness. ‘Good night, Emma. And thank you for helping Father. It was good of you.’
‘Yes, it was!’ exclaimed David, who now grasped her hand in his. ‘See you Monday morning, bright and early. Good night, Emma.’
They turned and began to walk away as she fitted the door key into the lock, but David stopped abruptly and ran back. ‘We think alike, Emma,’ he said, his voice vibrating confidently in the stillness. ‘I know we are going to be friends. Good friends.’
Emma’s face was serious and she believed him. She nodded. ‘I think so, too, David.’ He opened the door for her, and when she was safely inside he ran lightly down the steps and raced after Victor, who was waiting for him at the end of the street.
He was not aware of it then, but never had David Kallinski made a more prophetic pronouncement. They were indeed alike, for both were imbued with the will to succeed. And on that hot August night in 1905 a friendship had begun that was to last over half a century. Together they would climb, in their own individualistic ways, struggling up out of grim poverty, fighting all manner of prejudices, reaching for bigger and better things, and in their rising and their reaching they would carry the city with them. They would put their indelible imprint on Leeds, not only in their outstanding achievements as business magnates, but in their vast philanthropies. It was Emma Harte and David Kallinski, plus a handful of other conscientious, driven, and visionary Jews and Gentiles, who were to give birth to a city’s greatness.
The days slipped into weeks. August became September and then suddenly September had vanished. It was already the middle of October and Blackie had not returned to Leeds.
Emma constantly wondered what was detaining him in Ireland, worrying excessively when she was alone in the solitude of her little attic room, hoping he was not in some kind of trouble. She longed for Blackie to return because he was her closest friend and, although she was not aware of it, because he was associated with her past. Blackie O’Neill was the only emotional link to her background and so to her family, whom she loved and sorely missed. But essentially, the worry she periodically experienced was sincere concern for Blackie’s well-being, rather than her own, for she was not given to self-pity. And she was managing reasonably well by herself. She had her job at Kallinski’s tailoring shop and her room at Mrs Daniel’s house and, tentative and even tenuous as these were, they gave her a certain degree of security that was comforting.
The landlady, growing less fractious and more cordial every day, had announced unexpectedly that Emma could continue to rent the room indefinitely. It had not taken the sharp-eyed Mrs Daniel long to note that Emma was fastidious, honest, and quietly reserved. She kept to herself, merely nodding politely to the two gentlemen boarders when she ran into them in the hall, moving swiftly upstairs to her own room in well-bred dignity. She was not a troublemaker, Gertrude Daniel had decided, and had told Emma, ‘Yer can stay as long as yer want ter, lass. Yer no bother. None at all,’ and with this utterance Mrs Daniel’s dour face had broken into a beaming smile and she had patted Emma’s arm almost affectionately.
Emma was earning enough money at Kallinski’s to keep herself adequately and, most importantly, without having to dip into her precious savings. She was careful with her money to a point of frugality, spending it only for necessities, walking everywhere even when she was dropping from exhaustion and tempted to take a tram-car. But thrifty as she was, she did buy nourishing food. She was sensible enough to recognize she must fortify her strength and preserve her energy at all costs. If she neglected herself she might easily get sick and be unable to work, a thought that filled her with dread. There was the baby to think about, after all.
The job at the little workshop kept her busy from eight in the morning until six, sometimes seven o’clock, at night. Emma actually enjoyed working there and had done so since the first day. Abraham Kallinski ran his Rockingham Street tailoring shop with efficiency, but he was no tyrant, and because he was just, no one ever thought of abusing his kindness. The workers did not have to clock in and there were no stringent rules about talking, or the length of time taken for tea and lunch breaks. The employees were paid by the piece and it was up to them to make a living wage; and providing Abraham met his obligations to the big clothiers on time, he was satisfied, and he did not believe in cracking the whip on principle.
The girls were mostly Gentiles, but all of the men were Jewish. There was a wonderful feeling of camaraderie in the air, with much friendly bantering rising above the clack-clack-clacking of the treadle sewing machines. Emma sat at the long wooden worktable, up to her calves in clippings and bits of padding, working nimbly and at a pace that astounded the most seasoned of the girls. They were a gregarious bunch, all of them Leeds born and bred, blunt, pithily humorous but kindly. They spoke in the odd vernacular particular to Leeds, abbreviating words, slurring others together, dropping h’s and adding them where they should not have been. Emma understood the girls easily enough, for the patois of Leeds was basically a bastardization of the Yorkshire dialect spoken in the rural areas. She herself continued to speak correctly, always conscious of Olivia Wainright’s melodious voice, always parroting it, never permitting herself to fall into the rough speech patterns of her fellow workers. Emma knew that bad habits were easy to acquire and hard to break. At first the girls had teased her about her cultivated voice. ‘Talking like cut glass,’ they called it. Emma simply smiled and took their ribbing in such a good-natured way they soon ceased and accepted her as one of them. But none of the girls at Kallinski’s ever quite became accustomed to her beauty or her air of breeding. They were forever stealing looks at her and they stood in awe of her, although she did not know this.
Abraham kept a watchful eye on Emma, for he would never forget her compassion and rare courage, but he did so without showing her any favouritism, even though he was inordinately fond of her. Emma was always aware of Victor’s hovering presence, particularly when she hit a small problem with her work. Her involvement so preoccupied her she never once noticed the adoration that shone in his gentle eyes whenever they lighted on her. David was her champion. He had taken her under his wing that first Monday morning when he had set her to buttonholing. He was not surprised when she mastered this technique within a few days and became one of the speediest and most adept workers. Conscious of her superior intelligence and her amazing facility for learning with rapidity, he started her cutting sleeves one day when a regular cutter was absent. David had rolled out the long bolt of fine Yorkshire cloth on the wooden trestle table, chalking on the pattern from a paper form and wielding the scissors with a dexterity that was enviable, explaining in detail to Emma as he went along.
Under David’s training Emma soon learned to cut sleeves, lapels, then jacket fronts and backs, and finally trousers, always willing to pitch in and help when they were running behind with orders. By the middle of September she could easily have cut and sewn an entire suit on her own, without assistance from David. Abraham was stunned at her enormous capacity for work and impressed by her quick understanding of all aspects of tailoring. In fact, he was speechless at her skill, her single-mindedness, and her unflagging energy. Victor was silently admiring. David simply grinned like a Cheshire cat. He had perceived the nature of her character at their first meeting, an occasion he would always consider auspicious, if not indeed fortuitous. Emma Harte was a girl who was going places. He would bet his last shilling on that. He had his plans and she was part of them.
Janessa Kallinski continually extended invitations to Friday-night Sabbath dinner, for she had also grown fond of Emma and was as captivated as the rest of the family. Emma regulated her visits scrupulously, displaying an innate sense of social grace. She enjoyed her evenings in this warm and loving Jewish home, but she did not want to take advantage of their hospitality or appear to be forward and opportunistic. And when she did accept an invitation she always arrived with a small gift. A bunch of flowers bought in Leeds Market, a pot of jam she had made