Rowansford - The Town.

Rowansford is old. The first settlement was a Bronze Age one, but there’s more evidence of the Anglo-Saxon one – on the island in the middle of the river. There’s four bridges to the island now, but once upon a time there was just the one ford. There are even some stones still standing, and the oldest houses in Rowansford are all on the island too. As time went on, farms were built on the surrounding land, and the forest cleared to make way for plough and pasture. And Rowansford remained, essentially, little more than a village for many years. The Black Death passed it by, the river and the island keeping the villagers safe from outside infection, and the village remained much the same size until the railway arrived in Victorian times. And, with the railway, came the Victorians themselves – wealthy manufacturers for the most part, who wanted to live in the clean air of the countryside and yet be able to get to their manufacturies in the nearby town with ease. Rowansford suited them ideally. They beautified it, with a large park, complete with bandstand and glasshouses. They built themselves large houses for their large families, and passed a raft of by-laws to keep Rowansford as unspoilt as possible. The farms prospered, with the new markets that the railway made possible, and Rowansford became a quietly wealthy place. In the 1920’s, there was a further flush of building, as people wearied from the war wanted to retreat to a calmer, quieter place. But, thanks to those by-laws, the building was limited, and Rowansford remained pretty and desirable. And then Dr Beeching swung his axe, and the railway line was closed. The houses in the cheaper part of town began to be run down, neglected and decaying. The farms became less prosperous, and the heart slowly went out of Rowansford. There was still wealth in parts of Rowansford, but many of the big houses were simply abandoned, particularly the ones deeper out into the surrounding countryside. And then RMB laboratories moved into the area. It started life as a simple tin shack – later, it got proper breezeblock walls – a shoestring operation with a couple of small grants, a bold vision, and a lot of determination and good will. Twenty years later, the new facilities totally overshadowed the original shed – but they still kept it, still used it daily. Other companies were beginning to follow RMB laboratories, and the mostly disused farmland round the RMB site was being bought up and built on. And, finally, new houses were being built again at Rowansford. A new estate – mostly housing RMB workers! – had sprung up. Along with a new school, new shops, a new library – the old Victorian ones were on the other side of the town. Rowansford was waking up from its fifty year decline and coming back to life once more.
And behind the doors of the houses in the various parts of town, new stories were unfolding, waiting to be told.
The first of them – It’s Not Fair! – introduces some of the Rowansford inhabitants, and their lives in a changing town.
Link here: http://samelasstories.blogspot.co.uk/2014/08/its-not-fair-prologue.html

It's Not Fair! Prologue

It’s Not Fair! Prologue “And this is the party dress I’ve made for Daisy.” Daisy’s grandma was pretty good with a sewing machine. “She’s so pretty, the dress doesn’t need much ornamentation.” Grandma Harleston gazed fondly at her younger grand-daughter. There was no denying that Daisy paid for dressing, as the saying went. Blonde curls, big green eyes - and her father’s slim frame. She was a dress-maker’s delight.
“I did a different style for Lottie. Come on in, dear,” Cynthia called to her other grand-daughter, waiting obediently behind the door. Did his mother-in-law really think that Charlie looked good in that dress? David Saxtead found that hard to believe. To him it looked like an over-elaborate, over-trimmed, over-ruffled mess. And Charlie didn’t look any too happy either! But Cynthia was busy explaining how, “Lottie just doesn’t look as feminine as Daisy does, so I feel her clothes style needs to make a clear statement to compensate.” And then she sat back, waiting for them to thank her. David let his wife do the talking. He didn’t think Jonquil was looking her best either, but she’d said that she’d have to change into something Cynthia had made for her. He listened to Jonquil thanking her mother, getting Charlie to say thank you (somewhat reluctantly) and then admired the way she gave Charlie an escape route, by telling her to go and take it off and hang it up straight away, it would be such a shame if it got creased or dirty before the party. “My dress is beautiful! Thank you so much! I love you, Grandma H.”
David watched his daughter put on a beautiful performance for her grandmother as she rose to leave. Though there was no doubt that the dress did suit her, so her gratitude was probably genuine. “Do you really think Charlie looks good in that dress?”
“No,” Jonquil admitted reluctantly. “But you know how tight money is. And Mum does so love sewing. It gives her a purpose in life. Something to do other than the housework.”
David thought about his mother. “I can’t imagine Maman needing something to do other than the housework.”
“No.” Jonquil giggled. “She’d be horrified at the thought!”
“Yep. Take those horrible clothes off, and come to bed with me.”
“But darling – lilac is such a becoming shade for the older woman.”
“Well, it doesn’t suit you! And anyway, who says you’re an ‘older woman’? You don’t feel old to me. I better investigate you in more detail…” “Why do I have to wear trousers today? Why can’t I wear a dress? It’s not fair!” Daisy was, quite frankly, whining.
“Because we’re going to Grandmère and Grandpère’s house. And we’re helping in the garden.” Her mother was keeping her temper – so far. “Great. I love going there.” Charlie was all enthusiasm, but Daisy carried on.
“But I want to see Grandma H.”
“We saw her yesterday. All day,” Charlie pointed out. “And it was all pins and try this on and stand still a moment.”
“You’re just jealous because my dress is nicer than yours.” There was some truth in that, but Charlie wasn’t going to admit it. “Jealous? Of bits of fabric sewn together? I don’t think so. Fussing over clothes seems pretty silly to me. Silly and girly, just like you.”
“Enough!” their mother said firmly. “Both of you. I mean it.” They knew that tone of voice. They both ate their breakfast quietly – and David filled in the silences nicely, describing the latest crazy meeting he’d been to at work. Daisy shuddered at the sight of his awful dungarees. Was she the only person in the family with any dress sense? “You built the girls a treehouse? That’s amazing!”
“You’re going to work for it though!” David’s father warned him. “We’ve got a job lined up for you and Jonnie to help us with.” “Grandpère! Thank you so much! May we play in it now, or do you need us to help you as well?” David noticed that Daisy was busy saying nothing at all.
“No. Go and play. Your parents’ muscles will do us nicely.” “Come on up, Daisy. This is fantastic! Come and see what’s inside here.”
“No. I might get my clothes dirty or torn. These are my favourite shorts.”
“Well, why did you put them on if you can’t play in them? What’s the point of play clothes you can’t play in?”
“It’s about how you look that matters, stupid!”
“You’re the stupid one.” “Do you think you’ll ever get that car done?”
“Of course I will! Don’t be so rude to your venerable father. Just for that, you can do twice as much digging.”
“Digging? Is that what we’ve let ourselves in for?”
“Your Maman wishes to grow vegetables. There used to be a vegetable garden here – she wishes to revive it.” “So this is our starter for ten?” Jonquil liked her in-laws very much indeed, and was more than happy to spend a day in their rambling, neglected garden. Her own garden was so small – and boring!
“Let’s see what we can get done before we have to go then. And we can always come back next weekend. Jonathan, the tree house is wonderful!” “Hey, Daisy, come and look at this!” They’d be going home soon, but Daisy had spent the entire day moaning about how bored she was – not even a television to watch – and sniping at Charlie, mostly about her looks and that dreadful dress. Charlie had had enough! So had everyone else… Which is probably why Charlie didn’t get into any trouble when she dumped a bucket of water over Daisy! “So. This dress. Tell me about it. I hear them all day, my two grand-daughters.”
Jonquil sighed, and told Lorraine all about it.
“And does little Charlie look nice in it?”
“No, not at all. But it was very kind of my mother…”
“Why is it kind of your mother to make such a dress for Charlie? She enjoys sewing, no? She amuses herself with it? It is not a penance?” “You’re right.” Lorraine normally was, when she offered an opinion: usually she’d just ask questions until you made up your own mind. This, for her, was being very direct. “But what can I do about it?”
“You – nothing. But I will take Charlie out and buy her a dress that becomes her. As a reward for helping me plant my vegetables. You will ask them both if they would like to help me.”
“And if Daisy offers to help as well?”
Lorraine did one of her incredibly Gallic shrugs. “Bof. I do not think she will – surtout, if you ask them tonight. I do not envy you their teenage years!”
Jonquil closed her eyes and shook her head at the thought of the horrors in store!