The tragic tale

As I predicted they never listened. They don’t want to understand, and I don’t think they ever will. The girls and I tried, we sent petitions around, we offered to work more. It was no good. I, along with the others were fired and told never to return. If only they knew how we scrape to get a decent meal each day, how we bleed and sweat to fill their stomachs. Mr Birling will learn someday, he will regret his arrogance. For now though I’ve got to find work soon or I will starve. December 1910- My new Job at Milwards Finally, my prayers have been answered.

After months of desolation and solitude, I’ve found something new to focus on. I may not be able to buy a great many things with the salary, but I’ll be make this work for me. My life is still a bit dim, but I can see clearly now and this job will definitely put new found hope into my life. I’ve also met a wonderful woman who was able to make me smile again. Miss Richardson. She works as the shop assistant at Milwards and never ceases to amaze me. She probably has no idea what it’s like having one friend in the world. It’s like being pulled out of cold water.

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This job has really changed the course of my life and the great wound in my heart is slowly healing. When I look around I see faces painted full of joy and happiness. Then I wonder why. It’s a great mystery to me why some deserve perfection and felicity and others don’t. But what is really behind their faces only God knows. All I know is I wish I could hide it as well as they can. For now though I try to get by, to wake up tomorrow and smile to the world. That’s how much this job means to me. It’s the key to my happiness and the new focal point of my exsistance. January 1911-

I had a lonely Christmas, although I did spend New Year’s with Miss Richardson. The Birling ladies came into the store yesterday, and yet again troubled my life. The young Miss Birling, who was in a rather edgy mood tried on one of our Silk French evening gowns. She obviously had no idea how they were worn, which surprised me. Not wanting to embarass her, I held it up to me, to show her how it was worn. She took it from me and held it up wrongly and Miss Richardson laughed at her, I couldn’t help but smile too. By the look of the store manager when Miss Birling left, I was in serious

trouble. Febuary 2 1911- Miss Richardson and the store manager had a long talk this morning and things look uncertain for me. I honestly can’t understand what is wrong with these people, they take offence to everything. I only try to please them, but it seems I’m a pebble in their shoe, how can anyone love a pebble in their shoe? Why do I feel like there’s a bomb in my head, an explosion in my heart, a wound in my soul. I feel like an empty cup begging, yearning to be filled. Right now I’m just emotionally exhausted, empty, and drained to the core. I just can’t affored to lose this job.

I can’t. I’ve lost enough in my life and this would be too much. Febuary 21 1910- I’ve been ripped to the core and crushed to dust. I don’t know how to express my emptiness and anguish. There’s that word again. Empty. How else can I explain my humiliation and hurt when I was robbed of something I deserved better than anyone. What happened to Eva? How did I get so lost in this so called life? It was never supposed to be this way. I was never supposed to cry myself to sleep, only dream myself to sleep. I was supposed lounge in a large Chateau in France and sleep in the finest linen.

I was supposed to be draped in Ocean blue silks and Swiss diamonds. My hair was supposed to be bound in ribbons and held in perfect ringlets. I was supposed to wear a smile that could brighten a dismal day. But no. None of that, only pipe dreams. Then again, people like the Birlings eat, sleep and have things my dream are made of. I wish I had the grandeur life my mother had before she married my father. Daisy Renton. I wish I was my mother and her exhuberant life of eloquence she had before I came. March 1911- I’m still out of work and have decided to completely reform my life.

I want to live like my mother. I want to be Daisy Renton. I’ve had to wear things a woman of my rank should not. Then again, I lost my wonderful eminence a long time ago. The work I’m deciding to do is only temporary. Until I’m able to acquire my dreams. As long as I don’t get too affectionate with the men I work with, I’ll be alright. Mother would be disgusted at what I’m doing with myself, not forgetting using her precious name to do it. But I’m only doing what I feel is right. I’m so hungry I can almost feel my spine by pushing in my stomach. Is that possible?