[Cardiff, Wales - 2:42 AM 27/06/1919]
My family had received a lump sum of £17 when I was presumed dead, as well as £35 and 2 shillings from 1914-16, which had been my wages. though much of that was gone now since my father had died.
My disability pension, which now that I had started receiving it turned out to only be 90%, was 36 shillings a week. Catherine was now only working part-time as a clerk at one of the local tailors, and she was earning 21 shillings a week. I or my mum found the occasional shilling here or there, but they were sporadic. Still, though, that was a minimum of 57 shillings a week.
Now, considering our rent was 11, food was 18, and coal was 4, that meant we had a weekly surplus of 24 shillings. Now, that didn't account for toiletries, what clothes we couldn't fix, shoes, nor minor repairs to the house, which we had to hire someone to do since no one here could.
Still though, for a lower-class family, we were comfortable. But unforeseen expenses could easily wipe out our savings of £30, which was basically the wages from 1916-19. I hadn't been paid because they had assumed I was dead, well, what was left after they took back the £17 they had given them after my aforementioned possible death?
But I knew Britain was economically only going to get worse in the coming years and that was before anyone mentioned the great depression. In fact, one of the reasons Britain's economy shrank significantly less than France's, Germany's or the US's in the early 30s was because Britain's economy was already rock bottom to begin with, so there hadn't been much further to fall.
So I wanted to make sure I had enough money to make sure Mum and Catherine were safe. It also would kind of help with the whole Kitty's father situation. I mean, I was sure Kitty would marry me either way, but it would be significantly easier if I had some money to soothe their "concerns".
Now my initial thought had been that I could simply use my modern knowledge to make money, but it was way harder than someone might initially think.
I knew there were Roman coin stashes scattered throughout southern Wales which would be discovered more and more as metal detectors became a thing, but it wasn't like that was an option; the lottery didn't exist yet, and it wasn't like I was some form of psycho who memorised every lottery number in existence anyway.
As for my doctorate in chemistry, well, it was kind of useless at the moment; no one would believe a twenty-two-year-old would know anything about chemistry, and almost everything I could think of required large-scale experimentation since I only knew the core principles, not the exact processes or high-purity chemicals and other chemicals which simply didn't exist yet.
So in essence, to use my knowledge to make money, I needed money, and no one would be willing to give me any. But I had come up with one idea which I had been experimenting with…
The multi-dye litmus test.
In 1933, the multi-dye litmus test was patented in Japan. It was a major breakthrough in chemical analysis because it dramatically expanded the range and precision of pH measurement compared to older single-dye indicators.
Traditional single-indicator tests only provided a binary or very narrow readout, which would typically signal simply "acidic" or "basic", with some slightly more advanced ones changing colour over a small pH range. This limited their usefulness in experiments where precise acidity levels were crucial, such as in biochemical reactions, environmental monitoring, or industrial processes. The multi-dye approach, in contrast, used a combination of several non-interacting dye indicators that each changed colour at different pH levels, producing a spectrum of hues across a wide pH range. This allowed chemists to determine the pH with far greater accuracy and stability.
It also reduced the need for complex titrations or expensive pH meters, making rapid pH assessment simpler and more practical, especially in field conditions. It also enabled real-time monitoring of reactions, since the gradual colour transitions could reflect small changes in acidity as reactions progressed, something single-dye indicators could not reliably show.
In educational settings, the vivid range of colours provided by multi-dye tests also made the concept of pH far more intuitive for students, helping bridge theoretical chemistry with observable phenomena.
Overall, it was perfect for me to try to make since I could make it with simple equipment.
And after almost four months of experimenting in the attic in the evenings and burning through almost ten pounds of our savings, it works. or at least it works well enough for the patent office.
My fingers are now stained a faint green even under the gloves, the room smells of spirits and paper pulp, and yet I cannot stop grinning. This is the one, the proof-of-concept I've been dreaming of for months.
The work began as it always does: in fumbling experiments and bitter debates with myself. How many strips have I ruined? I swear, hundreds at this point probably.
Too much methyl red, not enough phenolphthalein, some batches turning to a muddy brown mid-dry, others refusing to develop any colour at all. Every failure cost me a shilling or two. I've felt the sting of every wasted fraction. I can almost hear my bank account groaning.
I had to make choices. Realistic ones. I cannot, at least not yet, formulate my own synthetic indicators from scratch since that would require lab-grade reagents, years of trial, and sums of money I don't have yet. And many of the indicators that make a modern universal strip so beautiful with its brilliant, smooth, continuous hue, simply do not exist yet. Even the ones that do exist are not made at the purity required to make a 14-shade progression like what I used to work with. I must work with what is available.
So I debated endlessly: buy the expensive synthetics and stretch my shillings to the absolute limit, or improvise the middle range. Methyl red and phenolphthalein I could afford, and so I bought them. But bromothymol blue? Thymol blue? Out of reach. Then it occurred to me: the patent office does not care how you make it work or how long it lasts. It only cares that the invention functions. That means I can use plant dyes for the neutral section at least for my prototypes since they don't have to be shelf stable. Red cabbage, logwood, and cochineal all find their place in my experiments; anything that will produce a demonstrable greenish band between acid and alkali.
So tonight, I once again prepared the solution. Ethanol as a base, a little water, methyl red and phenolphthalein in measured fractions, stirred, and then, carefully, I added my makeshift plant-based neutral indicator. It looked crude to me, yes, but I knew it would suffice. The strips drank it eagerly. Two hours of drying later, and I held them up to the light.
I tested them against my improvised standards: vinegar for strong acid, weakly boiled rainwater, distilled water cooled to neutrality, washing soda for mild alkali, and a lye-soap mix for the extreme.
I stare at my masterpiece: a little olive-green in the centre, a sharp red at the acid end, and a violet at the alkaline tip.
And there it was.
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, the gradient,
Not fourteen subtle shades, not the smooth continuum of a modern strip, but enough to prove useful. Enough to make the patent office nod. Enough to convince the chemical companies that a licence for my patent is worth it.
Tomorrow I will repeat the test, adjust the ratios slightly, perhaps refine the neutral band, and document every fraction. But tonight, I allowed myself to bask in this small, glorious victory: the invention, the demonstration, and the future fortune, all contained in these small strips of dyed paper drying beside me.
[Cardiff, Wales – 1:47 PM 08/07/1919]
I stumbled through the front door, a little tipsy, the early afternoon sun catching on the brick outside. Mum was in the kitchen, and her eyebrows lifted just slightly when she saw me. I didn't bother with an explanation, just carefully set down the package I'd been carrying. A hefty side of beef, wrapped in brown paper.
"Edward… what are you doing?" she asked, trying not to sound too sharp, but I could tell she was perturbed.
I grinned, unwrapping the meat. "My patent got provisionally approved."
Mum blinked. "Your… patent?"
"Means the invention's mine," I said, lifting the beef slightly to inspect it. "No one can nick it now. I'll have to go to London to get it permanently sealed, but for now? It's safe. And we're celebrating." I put the beef down with a soft thump on the table and rubbed my hands together.
She raised a skeptical brow. "Celebrating by…being tipsy in the middle of the day?"
I shrunk back slightly, though still happy, and raised my hands as I tried to assuage the situation, "No seamus, saw how chipper I was and pulled me in for a few pints. I only had two."
"How much did this side cost?" she asked in that tone where she was concerned but not upset.
I sighed as I began to place a boot on the table I was about to start polishing and said, "nine shillings."
"NINE BLOODY SHILLINGS." She turned around instantly.
I simply nodded, "Yeah mum, and that was a steal. Beef goes for around four and a half shillings a pound at the moment, I only got it that good due to old stan on former street giving me a deal. Besides, if I can get the patent licensed, the royalties alone will mean you and Catherine never have to work again."
To be fair, that was a bit of an understatement; it would probably be quite a bit more.
"Anyway…" I said, changing the topic to something more serious: "Remind me to tell Catherine to stay away from the harbour, and as much of Butetown as possible after supper."
"Why?" Mum asked. Her voice had that sharp edge that always made me pay attention, though I could tell she was curious more than anything.
"People are angry after the latest layoffs, John Lysaght & Co, someone's spreading rumours to stop a strike happening" I said simply. "Layoffs, poor treatment… they're lashing out. I don't want her to get hurt by accident."
Mum shook her head but said nothing, turning back to the stove. I offered to help her cook, but she waved me off, muttering something about letting me sit down before I fell over. I grinned and settled into a chair, letting the warmth of the kitchen sink into me.
My mind drifted, unbidden, back to the pub earlier. A half-dozen men, voices low, leaning close, talking through the haze of smoke and ale. At first, I thought it was nothing but idle complaining, but listening… It sounded more like planning. Names of streets, specific docks, mention of boarding houses and certain men. My stomach tightened.
I pushed the thought away, at least for now, letting the smell of the searing beef and coal fire fill the room. The smell swam through the room like a small victory, and for a moment, the city outside, angry, restless, dangerous, felt a little further away.
[Author's Notes:]
1.The British War Pension, introduced during and after World War I, provided financial support to soldiers who were injured or disabled in service. The amount was based on the severity of the injury, assessed as a percentage of a "full disability" standard: for example, losing a leg below the knee might qualify for an 80% pension, while more severe injuries could reach 100%. Payments were made weekly or annually and were intended to replace lost earnings and help cover living expenses; the system also allowed for adjustments if the veteran's condition worsened over time. Edward has lost the bottom part of his right leg, as well as hearing in his right ear and a damaged back. He is not completely immobile, meaning if he had existed in reality, he probably would have received 90%.
2. 20 shillings equal £1. The average unskilled labourer would be paid £2 to £3 a week.
Also Please give suggestions for the story or correction to eithe historical stuff or the grammar.