An Unbreakable Bond Read online

  Cissy’s body trembled and Megan again wanted to put her hand out and take Cissy’s. She felt certain Cissy had wanted to say she would like to be with her. This gave her a nice feeling inside and made up for what she’d just had to listen to.

  ‘Very well! Now, you will be working in the finishing room – that is the room just outside this office, where you will have observed the ladies at their benches. To begin with, you will practise on scrap material. You won’t be allowed to touch the garments until I feel you are ready to do so. You will have every Sunday afternoon off. The morning, after you return from church at nine o’clock, will be spent cleaning the salon and window displays. Every month you will have the first Monday and Tuesday as your leave days. You will both be responsible for cleaning the workrooms, after the ladies have left to have their evening meal. You will take your own meal when this work is finished and the ladies have left the dining hall. You will be at your workbenches by eight every morning and will take your breakfast and lunch after the ladies have had theirs. Your salary, less deductions for your keep, will be paid to you on the Monday morning of your leave. You will keep yourselves and your rooms spotless at all times.’ She rang the bell on her desk, an unexpected action that made them both jump. Cissy made a noise like a giggle being snatched back. For a moment, Megan thought that she would lose control and laugh out loud at this, but the years of practice at keeping a straight face stood her in good stead.

  A girl not much older than Megan and Cissy answered the summons of the bell. Madame introduced her as Miss Stallton. Megan took an instant dislike to her when, at Madame’s instruction to show them around, she gave them a look as if they were dirt on the bottom of her shoe.

  As soon as they were outside the office, Cissy gave way to her giggles, and didn’t stop even when subjected to another of Miss Stallton’s disdainful looks. It was all Megan could do not to join in, but as they followed her through a door on the left of the finishing room and up the stairs, she realized that Cissy was just trying to cover her nerves and her earlier sadness. She took hold of her hand and squeezed it. This turned the giggles to tears, so she slipped an arm around Cissy’s waist, whispering, ‘It’ll be reet, I promise.’

  Miss Stallton turned round. ‘I believe you have been told, Miss Tattler, that you are not to speak to anyone here unless you have been spoken to? Well, I am sure that includes Miss Grantham.’

  Shock stung Megan and her breath caught in her lungs. She said nothing, but Cissy did. ‘It don’t include me. She can talk to me when she wants to.’ This further surprised Megan. She’d had Cissy down as someone who would need looking out for, not someone who’d be looking out for her!

  ‘Miss Grantham . . .’

  ‘Me name’s Cissy.’

  ‘Miss Grantham! If you know what is good for you, and you want to retain this position, you will be wise to think carefully about your standing. Which, I understand from Madame, is only just above that of Miss Tattler. And you, Miss Tattler, take your hands off Miss Grantham at once. I shall report this to Madame.’

  Cissy, her eyes now dry and a look of defiance still on her face, didn’t answer, and Megan was pleased that she didn’t.

  As they reached the top of the stairs, the smell of wax polish reminded Megan of when she’d stood in the Reverend Mother’s office, and the same feeling she’d felt then entered her now. Unable to fit onto the narrow carpet-runner that silenced Cissy’s and Miss Stallton’s tread, her shoes squeaked on the shiny oilcloth covering the boards, resounding in the silence and causing Cissy to start her giggling again.

  Fear stopped Megan joining in. She kept her eyes straight ahead, but the exasperated sigh of Miss Stallton undid her. Clamping her hand over her mouth didn’t stop the nervous laughter that she could no longer hold in, but what Miss Stallton said next did. ‘This is the dormitory you will sleep in, Miss Grantham. Your bed is the fourth one along. The washroom is through the door at the end, on the right. You are not to enter any of the others, at any time or for any reason,’ she told Cissy. But it was when she turned to Megan and said, ‘And you, Miss Tattler, are forbidden entrance to all of them, including this one,’ that humiliation stung her, bringing a blush to her cheeks, and taking away her urge to giggle.

  Looking through the door Miss Stallton had opened, Megan could see four beds. Each had a folded screen next to it, and a set of drawers displaying knick-knacks stood between the beds on the opposite side from the screens. Light flooded the room, and the matching pink curtains and candlewick bedspreads gave it a warm and welcoming feel.

  ‘Now, Miss Tattler, you see those stairs at the end of this passage? They lead to your room in the attic. On the bottom step is a jug containing water. When you have washed and changed into your uniform, bring your bowl down and I will show you where you can empty it in the backyard. You will get fresh water from a pump out there and – well, there is a lavatory out there for your use. You are to empty your . . . your chamber pot in the lavatory every morning. Please make sure you use one of the covers provided for it as you pass along here.’ Miss Stallton’s body shuddered with disgust. ‘I will expect you at the bottom of the stairs in half an hour.’

  Megan could no longer hold back the tears. Madame Marie had made her feel bad enough, but that girl – that spiteful girl with her ‘Miss’ this and ‘Miss’ that – had made her feel like she’d crawled out from the sewer. Her tears blurred her view of the room where she would spend her time when she wasn’t working. She wiped them away with her sleeve and looked around. A well-worn rag rug served as the only floor covering. It lay between two narrow beds pushed up against the sloping wall on one side of the room. Someone had placed her bag on one of the beds and had spread her uniform out next to it. The wall facing the beds had a curtained alcove on either side of the huge chimney-breast.

  Putting the jug down on the washstand that stood against the chimneybreast, Megan pulled one of the curtains aside. Behind it she found a rail with hooks on and some shelves at the bottom. She should put her things away and get herself ready, but she had no inclination to do so. Her relief that it wasn’t the dungeon she’d imagined had done little to lift her spirits. Shame washed over her at the thought of how that girl had told her, in front of Cissy, about such private things as where she should go to the lavatory. And to think she’d even mentioned the pot under her bed!

  Loneliness such as she’d never known before seemed to crush her, as the bed with no clutter on it took her weight in a comforting way. She buried her head in the pillow. What had she now? No mam to find, no Hattie and no Sister Bernadette. Oh, Hattie, Hattie . . .

  A tapping on the door halted her sobs. She hesitated a moment before grabbing her hanky. Wiping her tears and blowing her nose, she called out, ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘It’s me, Cissy.’

  The loud whisper warmed her mood, and Megan’s body moved towards the door before she consciously told it to. It seems all that has happened hasn’t put Cissy off!

  ‘Aren’t you ready yet? By, lass, you’ll catch it!’

  The way Cissy said this as she came casually through the door made it seem as if they’d known each other forever. ‘Come on, Megan, it’s time to get your frock and pinny on. I couldn’t wait to get mine on!’ She twirled around in her new uniform, and in an exaggeratedly posh voice said, ‘Don’t you think it is the height of fashion, Miss Tattler? The navy is the latest colour and the ankle length gives one . . . modesty.’ The twirl ended with Cissy falling onto the bed, giggling in such a way that it would take a saint not to join in.

  The giggling felt good, but it didn’t last long. Cissy stopped as suddenly as she’d started and sat up. ‘I’m sorry about all me blubbing earlier. Only I haven’t ever been away from me mam afore, and, well . . . me dad – me dad passed on just a few weeks ago.’

  Megan didn’t know what to say. She took Cissy’s hand and they sat for a moment, not speaking.

  Cissy broke the silence. ‘Anyroad, as me mam’d say, there’s nowt to
be gained from feeling sorry for yourself. There’s always those worse off. Besides, we’ll have each other, Meg.’

  Only Hattie had ever called her Meg before. It sounded strange but somehow right that Cissy should call her that, too.

  ‘Reet, come on, Meg. Slap that flannel round your face and get dressed. Miss What’s-Her-Knickers will be at the bottom of the stairs any minute.’

  ‘Miss What’s-Her-Knickers?’

  ‘Aye, that’s what me mam’d call her, besides other things that would make your lugs go red! I’ll tell you of them some other time, but I’d best go now. Me and you have to be secret friends, otherwise we’ll catch it from Madame – stupid woman!’

  As the door closed behind Cissy, Megan could have shouted out for joy, such was the glowing feeling that had replaced the loneliness inside her.

  4

  Hattie’s Fears Come True

  ‘By, you’re up with the lark this morning, dear. You haven’t wet the bed, have you?’

  Hattie giggled. Cook had some funny sayings. ‘No, Cook. I just thought as I’d give Betty a hand. She’s lagging behind a bit, and I’ve plenty of time to do me own chores.’

  ‘You’re a good ’un, lass. You’ve settled well, and you only being here a few days. I’ve given a good report to the housekeeper, and she’s reet pleased with you.’

  Cook stood in front of the gleaming black range, stirring a large pan of porridge. The job of blacking the range was one of the chores Hattie had to do at least once a week, but she didn’t mind. To her surprise, she found she liked the kitchen work. The smell of constant baking, the warmth, the hustle and bustle and the companionship of the staff when they gathered for meals around the large scrubbed table, or popped in and out as they went about their business, gave her a sense of belonging.

  ‘Mind,’ Cook continued, ‘it don’t do to be too kind, thou knows. You could be put upon. Though I’ll admit as Betty needs a lift – her only having a few weeks to go till she drops her babby.’

  Hattie didn’t reply. She carried on gathering the bucket, brush and shovel that she needed from the utility cupboard at the other end of the kitchen. She had to clean out the grates in the front room and the hall. She’d already done the breakfast room and the withdrawing room, and had set fires going in both, before she had helped Betty to get the sheets soaped.

  ‘Are you happy then, lass?’

  ‘Aye, I’m all right. It isn’t what I want to do with me life, but it’s working out better than I thought it would.’

  ‘Good. It’s a while since we had someone who knew how to go on, without being shown every five minutes. Daisy were the last, and she came from the same place you did. They teach you well, I must say.’

  ‘Daisy? Daisy worked here?’

  ‘Aye, she did, and she were a good lass. It were a pity – and unexpected, I might say – when she ran off. Just like that, without a by-your-leave! I hope you don’t do the same, Hattie.’

  Hattie couldn’t speak. All in all she’d been happy, well fed and had a space of her own in a little room at the top of the house. She got on well with everyone. The hard work and long hours hadn’t bothered her and she’d been willing to stick it out. But now her fear surpassed her happiness, and deepened it into dread at Cook’s next words. ‘Has Mrs Barker told you about the party next week? By, that’s the start of it all, when the family arrive . . .’

  ‘No. Is – is the family coming that soon?’

  ‘Oh, aye, Lord and Lady Marley will be here come Saturday, and the rest of the family – ten of them altogether, with Lady Marley’s sister and her brood – will be here come Wednesday. On the following Saturday there’ll be a party to kick off the Christmas season. We’ll have our work cut out that day, I can tell you. There’ll likely be around fifty guests, with at least twenty staying over. But don’t be worrying: you’ll have your duties all mapped out, and as long as you carry them through and keep out of sight as much as you can, you’ll be reet.’

  Out of sight – she had a mind not to be found at all! She stood a moment, unsure of what to do. Should she tell Cook why Daisy had left? The sudden appearance of the housekeeper stopped her from doing so.

  ‘What’s this? Not slacking, are we? There’s not enough time to stand gaping into space, Hattie. Not now, and certainly not when the family arrive, so don’t be making a habit of it, girl.’

  ‘No, Mrs Barker. I’m sorry, I—’

  ‘It were my fault,’ Cook said. ‘I were telling her of the family coming. Mind, lass has been up a couple of hours and has been giving Betty a hand, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt for her to slow down a bit.’

  ‘Very well, Cook, we’ll let it go this time. Now, Hattie, come to my room after breakfast. I need to talk to you about the extra duties you are to carry out whilst the family are here.’

  Cook served up a breakfast of creamy porridge followed by scrambled egg on thick slices of toasted bread. It all looked delicious, but Hattie could hardly even pick at it. Thankfully no one seemed to notice, so she wasn’t asked to account for her lack of appetite. The banter that went on amongst the staff at mealtimes was something she usually enjoyed, but today she was relieved when Cook called the proceedings to a halt, sending everyone back to their chores and telling her to go along and collect the housekeeper’s tray.

  ‘Well, Hattie, you seem to be settling in well, I am pleased to see.’ Mrs Barker had invited her to sit down as soon as she’d entered her office. ‘Now, you know about the family coming home next week, so I will run through what is expected of you during the time all the guests are here with us.’

  The list of extra chores seemed endless. She’d to step out of her usual role and assist the chambermaids – women from the neighbourhood who all knew the routine well and would be in early the next day, and every day throughout the family’s stay. She would be responsible for the fires, the turning down of the beds at the end of the evening and the bed-warming in five of the bedrooms, including that of Lady Marley. She must also be ready to run for trays whenever needed and generally help everyone out. This meant she’d be on her feet for most of the day, from six in the morning till gone midnight on the day of the party, and till at least eleven at night on the other days, with only a two-hour break in the afternoon. The work didn’t worry her, but with what had happened to Daisy still fresh in her mind, being around the bedrooms late at night did.

  Lying awake in the early hours, Hattie thought about her situation and tried to dampen the fear building up inside her. She couldn’t run away. She had no money and her wages weren’t due until after Christmas, on her first leave days. Telling the truth about what she knew of Daisy and why she’d left, and divulging her own fears, wasn’t an option. Everyone spoke highly of the family and the master, and because of this she had a feeling that she’d not be believed. She’d noticed, though, that Betty hadn’t joined in when the others were gushing on. But then she wasn’t one for saying much at any time. She walked around as if in her own world, and kept her head bent in the way someone would if they were looking for something. This worried Hattie. Betty had an aura of unhappiness about her and a look of fear in her eyes, and she always jumped when she was spoken to. No, she couldn’t add to whatever it was that was troubling Betty by discussing her own worries with her.

  Her thoughts went to Megan, and her eyes stung with tears. There was no one her own age here – no one she could make friends with. She liked them all, but it wasn’t the same as the way she and Meg had been. She brushed away her tears. She would cope. She’d watch her back at all times, and make sure the corridors were clear of folk before she stepped into them. At least she would be safe in the bedrooms, as they were all to be occupied by ladies. They had connecting doors to the ones the gentlemen slept in, but she knew from the gossip around the table that the menfolk would never enter without the lady being present.

  On the day of the party Hattie made her way to her room for her afternoon break. She’d been daft to be afraid. Poor Daisy must have bee
n in the wrong place at the wrong time, because despite being around the house carrying out her chores from morning till night, she’d hardly clapped eyes on the master. On the two occasions she had seen him, he hadn’t even glanced her way.

  ‘Oh, there you are, Hattie. I wanted to catch you before you went for your break.’

  She nearly jumped out of her skin as she rounded the corner and saw the housekeeper standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to her room.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Now, I’m going to be very busy here, there and everywhere tonight, so I wanted to make sure you know to finish warming Lady Marley’s bed and have her fire well banked up at precisely midnight, having first finished all the other rooms you are responsible for. This is very important, as Lady Marley has informed me that the carriages and motor-cars are departing at eleven forty-five, and she and all the ladies in residence intend to leave the gentlemen just afterwards and retire. Do you understand, Hattie?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Barker. I’ll have it all done on time.’

  ‘That’s a good girl. After you have finished all of that, I want you to make your way to the west-wing kitchen, using the back stairs. You are to see if you can be of any help. If not, you may retire to your bed.’

  Hattie nodded.

  ‘Good. Make sure you have a good rest now. It’s going to be a long day – a very long day.’

  For one moment she thought Mrs Barker was going to take hold of her. A sweet sort of smile spread across her face as she bent her head to one side, just like Sister Bernadette used to, when pleased with Hattie. It was odd. But then, everything seemed odd today. Mrs Barker hovering around the bottom of the stairs waiting to give her instructions hadn’t ever happened before; she always summoned the maids to her office. And then, only a few minutes ago, she’d seen Florrie Bateman, the chambermaid she’d helped, coming out of one of the gentlemen’s bedrooms, even though they’d finished cleaning and preparing that room hours ago. She’d looked like she’d been in a fight. Her hair was sticking out of her mobcap at all sorts of angles and she’d been fastening her blouse. As Hattie watched her in her dishevelled state, she’d wondered where Florrie had got the coins that she’d seen her slip into her apron pocket.