Chapter Text
The door creaks shut behind Eva as she enters her house- shack? Hole? Definitely not home, although she needs to decide on a better word for it in her head, because the current title of ‘temporary accommodation’ is a bit bleak, seeing as she’s lived here for the past 2 years. The room falls into grey-blue darkness, the only light from the window, and Eva takes a breath of the clean (if a bit musty) air. It’s leagues better than the air of the factory she’s been in all day.
With clumsy, blistered fingers Eva finds the matchbox by her bed and strikes it, lighting the oil lamp. The world bursts into light and she undresses, locating her nightgown and slipping it on. She sighs at the smooth, clean smelling cotton, a huge contrast from her work clothes that are blackened and smell of soot.
Her stomach growls in hope of nonexistent food. Sighing and standing up, she busies herself with picking up her few belongings that are now scattered around the room. Blouse, long sleeved shirt, work uniform, diary. Diary! She grabs it and rifles through the thin pages. Her one source of entertainment after work, it makes her feel more alive. Sometimes she forgets that time is progressing and documenting the changes every day, however tiny, makes her remember she’s still human. Diary. She thinks once more. She has to keep doing this, pulling her mind from the dark expanse of thoughts that envelop her constantly. She finds the page she’s looking for. The day she was hired. Happy memories help.
Dear diary,
She reads.
Today was the most wonderful day of my life! I was just giving up hope of ever getting a job, when I received a letter telling me that I was at the top of the waiting list for Birling Co. I had forgotten I ever applied! My first shift starts tomorrow, at 5:30 AM. It is early for me, and the job pays minimum wage, but I cannot risk losing it. Top behaviour is necessary, but life is looking up!
Eva smiles, feeling a little bittersweet. The factory is cruel, painful, and smoky, but every other day she goes without food she puts another penny into the savings box. Although she has had no education, she knows how money works. Eventually she can get out of this hell hole, and find a better place to live. She straightens out her thin sheet on the bed, having long ago sold the nice duvet she had to cover rent. Realising there is no point to staying awake, she dims the lantern on her desk and falls asleep in the comforting darkness.
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Sheila Birling wakes early to the sound of pans clattering downstairs, comfortingly familiar. She jumps out of bed and immediately begins straightening out the sheets with vigour, eager to start the day right. Sunlight pours through her paned windows in a joyful fashion, and she can’t help but feel as if the world is filling her to the brim with energy. Father is bringing her to the factory today, after years of pestering him. Sheila had to write a whole speech to persuade him to let her go, and she was too glad that he finally agreed to bother correcting him when he assumed her brother had written it. For the past 5 years, Birling Co has been steadily growing with the strong guidance of Sheila’s father, yet her knowledge of the process has been limited. He has worked so hard to secure a good life for her, and she is so incredibly proud of him, but she also has the burning desire to see how everything runs. If only her tutors would tell her more about business and less about how to perfectly iron her husband’s shirt. She thinks of her future husband, Gerald, as she undresses and puts on more form-fitting clothes than usual, not wanting them to get caught in the sharp factory machinery. Gerald is a sensible man, and he surely would not be against Sheila knowing a few things about business. Not the way that her father used to get upset whenever her mother gave him a suggestion. Women should be seen and not heard, that is the motto she grew up knowing.
Beginning her daily routine with taking rags out of her hair, Sheila watches the curls bounce satisfyingly. She then ties a bow in her hair like she has practised hundreds of times before. She then runs out of her bedroom, unable to contain her excitement as she hops down the stairs. She slows down as she passes her brother in the corridor, who quickly hides something behind his back and smiles at her uneasily. She raises an eyebrow at him and does not smile back, knowing exactly what it is that he’s hiding, but does not speak. Immediately upon entering the kitchen, she sets the table for breakfast, like the perfect wife and woman she has been brought up to be.
But no matter what she does, she can’t help but think there’s more to life than this.