Eva Smith letter.

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                       27 Alleyway Road

Brumley

Kent

21st March 1912

Dear Friend

                     My life is unbearable and torn apart, in his letter I shall leave explanations for you to discover. Once I had feelings and ambitions, all are now destroyed. Why me? I had everything going for me once, I used to look forward to the future and seize every chance. Where am I destined for now? This evil world is not fit to bring a child into. I wish I could rely on someone; at least I can rely on a bottle of disinfectant to end my existence.

         What you are about to read is what has driven me to suicide. My social superiors have wrecked my life. I came from the country, a girl with so much hope and aspirations but now I wish I had never set my eyes on a place called Brumley.

         I worked at a factory owned by Mr.Birling, a fat arrogant cruel man. I lost my job because we, the workers, asked for a raise. The few extra shillings we wanted could have easily been afforded but he was too cold and greedy to give us better wages. I was one the leaders of a strike in September 1910, the strike failed, as we could not afford to stay out of work. The man was so horrible to me; the day that he called me up to his office to tell me that I was fired he told me something that still haunts me. As I was leaving his office he stopped me at the door and said “ oh Eva, you were about to be promoted, what a mess you have made of that.” I now had the reputation of a troublemaker but I was really a hard working popular worker. I was in for two hard months, unemployed and black listed. It was almost impossible to find a job. In those two months I became extremely depressed and very scared of the future. Penniless, I borrowed money from friends and ate other people’s food. I couldn’t believe what had happened to me.

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       I had a stroke of luck when I got a job at Milwards, an expensive clothes shop. I had a wonderful time there; I met new people and worked hard. As you will see in this story and I quickly learned, good things don’t last! On one fateful day in January 1911, Shelia Birling came into the shop. She took the anger she had against her mother out on me because I looked good in a dress and she didn’t; also I think she saw me smile to another worker and mistook it as me laughing at ...

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