Charity (12 page)

Miss Downes, whom they thought they could count on, had taken the colonel’s side. In fact she described Charity’s reluctance to live with her uncle as ‘ingratitude’ and stated quite bluntly that she believed the girl was being malicious towards him.

In another child Geoff might have suspected this too, but Charity was very honest and the kind of detail she’d given them was too clear to be anything but the truth. Evidently Colonel Pennycuick had charmed the social workers, and suggested she was incapable of earning her own living. Now Charity had to prove she was.

‘I didn’t expect it to be as lovely as this,’ Charity said breathlessly as Geoff drove in through huge wrought-iron gates and up the long gravel drive. ‘It looks like a palace, not a school.’

Lush green playing fields surrounded the I-shaped house, with a tower at each end. Mullioned windows twinkled in the bright sunshine and brightly coloured flowers cascaded over two huge urns on either side of steps up to a vast studded front door.

‘Well it was a home to the Bowes family for three hundred years before it became a school,’ Geoff told her. Charity’s mood on the drive from London had swung between sheer terror and excitement and he wished he could find the right words to soothe her anxiety. ‘Now all you have to remember is that it is a school. They are used to young people and they won’t be cruel to you. It may seem huge and scary, but it’s run just like any other household.’

He glanced round at Chàrity as he drove past the front of the school towards the side door Mr Alderton the head had directed him to. She looked so small and vulnerable in the navy blue suit Lou had bought her for this interview. Her knees sticking out from the straight skirt were thin and childlike and her white blouse too severe for one so young; even her hair tied back with a ribbon at the nape of her neck merely accentuated her tender years.

‘It must need dozens of people to look after it,’ she whispered in awe. ‘It’s even bigger than Studley!’

‘You’ll find it’s better run. Most of the domestic staff come in from the village,’ Geoff said. ‘I shouldn’t fancy the job as groundsman, though. Imagine if Lou sent me out to cut all that grass!’

Charity laughed. Auntie Lou was always badgering him to cut their lawn, and compared to this it was nothing.

‘Imagine me cooking bacon and eggs for two hundred boys,’ she retorted. ‘I hope I don’t have to peel all the spuds on my own!’

A slender grey-haired lady in a dark blue uniform and stiffly starched cap came out of a semi-basement door and up a few steps to greet them as Geoff stopped the car. She had a severe face, with a chin that disappeared into her neck, and the kind of bright, dark eyes that suggested she missed nothing.

‘You must be Miss Stratton,’ she smiled as she came forward. ‘I’m Miss Hawkins, the school housekeeper. Do come in, I trust you had a pleasant drive down?’

Uncle Geoff thrust out his hand. ‘Geoffrey Charles,’ he said, shaking the housekeeper’s firmly. ‘Would you prefer to speak to Miss Stratton alone? I could wait out here.’

‘That won’t be necessary.’ Miss Hawkins held out her hand to Charity. ‘I’m sure you’d prefer your uncle to stay, wouldn’t you? May I call you Charity?’

She ushered them back down the steps and through a huge deserted kitchen. ‘It’s not usually like this.’ She smiled. ‘This is the hub of the whole school during term time. Sheer bedlam.’

Charity noticed the grease-free pale blue walls, the spotless tiled floor, vast cooker and two big sinks in an adjoining room. Afternoon sunshine came in at the windows, and despite its size the kitchen had a homely look.

Miss Hawkins led them through an arched door into a stone-flagged lobby.

‘I’ll show you round a bit later, but for now I think tea in my office will suffice while we have a little chat.’

Charity lost her bearings almost immediately as they were led up a narrow plain wooden staircase, and down a corridor past umpteen doors. There was complete silence everywhere and although Miss Hawkins explained that a skeleton staff was still here cleaning up now the boys had gone home, they neither saw nor heard anyone.

‘It’s like a rabbit warren,’ Miss Hawkins said cheerfully. ‘Staircases and doors all over the place. I was enchanted with it from my first day here over twenty years ago.’

The office was a bright sunny room at the back, overlooking the quadrangle with steps down on to the playing fields. In the distance Charity could see a wall; beyond that were woods and farmland. The office was furnished with only a desk and a few chairs, yet the walls were covered in shelves holding everything from cans of cleaning materials to recipe books, and even a few sad-looking soft toys.

Miss Hawkins followed Charity’s glance.

‘Left behind by boys that outgrew them,’ she smiled. ‘I can’t bring myself to throw them out. Now do sit down, Carol our other maid will bring up the tea shortly.’

She outlined the duties expected of Charity: helping prepare meals, cleaning the refectory between meals, washing up, laying tables and generally helping with anything that needed doing.

‘We work it on a rota system,’ she explained. ‘Some days you will start work early and go right through till after lunch, with the rest of the day off. Others you will start at noon and work through the afternoon until supper. You will have a regular day off once a week, but these can be arranged sometimes so you have two together; then you can go home if you so wish. I have a curfew for my younger staff of ten. If for any reason you wish this to be extended, or you wish to have a night away, you must ask my permission.’

They were interrupted by the girl Carol coming in with the tea. Aged around eighteen, she was a buxom, fresh-faced girl with a mop of red curly hair, wearing a blue and white striped overall. She put the tray of tea down on the desk and smiled at Charity with obvious interest.

‘This is Carol Lomas,’ Miss Hawkins introduced them. ‘Should you decide to come, she will show you the ropes and I hope you will become friends. How long have you been with us, Carol?’

‘Two years, ma’am, come this September.’ She had an engaging accent that Charity didn’t recognise, and sparkling brown eyes.

‘Carol, like most of the domestic staff, is cleaning up now after the boys. Next week she will be going home for the rest of the holidays. Where is home, Carol? It’s slipped my memory.’

‘Newton Abbot, ma’am.’

‘Thank you Carol.’ Miss Hawkins dismissed her. ‘I may call you later to show Charity the staff rooms if I don’t have time for the full tour.’

Charity realised that Uncle Geoff had told Miss Hawkins a great deal about her, for she asked few personal questions. Instead she asked her about what books she liked, and her ambitions.

‘Nursing or looking after children,’ Miss Hawkins said thoughtfully. ‘Well being here might change your mind about the latter. But at seventeen you can apply to a hospital or even a nursery nursing college. Now, how do you feel about the position? Have you any questions?’

‘I’d like to work here, please,’ Charity replied quickly. ‘Do I have to wear a uniform?’

‘An overall, cap and apron.’ Miss Hawkins smiled at her eagerness. ‘I’ll kit you out on arrival. Sensible, flat shoes and your hair tied back at all times when you are working. Your salary will start at four pounds ten shillings a week for a trial period of one term. That of course includes your room and board. If you are considered suitable, this will be raised then.’

‘It’s wonderful, Uncle Geoff,’ Charity trilled as they drove back out of the gates. She’d seen her little room up on the top floor, with Carol right next to her. She’d seen the classrooms, the refectory, the kitchens and staff-rooms and although her head was swimming with it all she was so excited she couldn’t wait to start in September.

‘It sounds like quite hard work,’ Geoff reminded her. ‘Those huge pans and trays of food looked pretty heavy to me.’

‘I’m sure no one will be like Uncle Stephen,’ Charity giggled. ‘I’ve had plenty of training with grumpy, difficult people.’

She really liked Carol. She said she was glad Charity was young because they could spend their spare time together. She also said the cook Mrs Cod was a witch, but Miss Hawkins was ‘fair enough’, but as long as she did her job properly it was quite a ‘cushy number’.

‘I don’t want you to go away,’ Prudence whined as Charity folded her clothes into her case. ‘I’ll miss you so much.’

Charity looked round at her sister and smiled affectionately. Prue’s moods were mercurial: only yesterday she had said she couldn’t wait to have the room to herself.

‘Now Prue,’ Charity reproved her. ‘With all the homework you’ll get at the grammar school you won’t have time to miss me.’

‘But it won’t be the same without you here,’ Prue sniffed. ‘Who will I tell about school and things?’

Charity half smiled. Prue was entirely self-centred. Since hearing she’d passed her eleven-plus her conversation had rarely moved away from herself. She had taken to reading boarding-school books and peppered her speech with words like ‘super’ and ‘frightfully’. Not once had she shown any real interest in Charity’s job at Bowes Court. When she wasn’t sniping at Toby for being untidy or noisy, she was continually admiring herself in the mirror. Toby had attempted to cut off her plaits as an act of revenge, and although Auntie Lou had scolded him she privately admitted to Charity that it would have served Prue right for being so insufferable.

‘You can write and tell me everything.’ Charity sat on the bed beside her sister and drew her into her arms. ‘I shan’t forget you. I’ll write back and I’ll be home at Christmas. I’ll have money of my own then. I’ll be able to take you shopping and to the pictures and we’ll have so much to talk about.’

Charity was anxious to get going. Each time she looked at the children she wanted to cry, she loved them so much. The thought of not being able to kiss them goodnight, to tuck them in and read them stories filled her with dread. They were too young to understand what work meant. They couldn’t possibly imagine how scared she was, or how lonely it would be without them around. But to tell them would only put sad thoughts in their heads.

‘Just think, Prue, in a few years I could come back to London and find a flat where we can all live together. You make sure you work hard at school now and make me proud of you.’

She had no doubt Prue would do well; she was too bright, too determined, to do anything else. But Charity had a sinking feeling that once Prue mixed with girls from wealthier homes she wouldn’t want to admit her sister was a kitchen maid.

*

Toby slunk round the door. His gloomy face showed he too was worrying. He had grown tall during the summer, had a spray of freckles across his nose from being outside all the time, and his knees were scabby from the many tumbles he took.

Charity reached out for him too and sat on the bed with one arm round each of them.

Subtle changes in all three of them made them less alike now. The white-blond hair and bright blue eyes were the only common denominator. Prue had put on weight and the extra flesh made her face seem flatter and rather bland. Toby showed a remarkable similarity to the pictures of Uncle Stephen as a young man now; a less severe haircut and a golden glow suggested he would become a very handsome man. But of all three, Charity’s transformation was most marked. Her slender body had gentle curves where once had been straight lines, and her anxious look was replaced by wide-eyed interest. Her hair shone like a bolt of white satin; sunshine, fresh air and good food had filled the hollows in her face, turning her into a very pretty girl.

‘Remember I love you,’ she whispered, fighting back tears. ‘You’ll be in my thoughts all the time. Try to be nice to one another and look out for James. If you feel sad, remember what it was like back in Greenwich and how lucky we’ve been.’

She knew they would perk up when she’d gone. Toby would go out and play football, Prue would play with her dolls and pester Auntie Lou to join her in a play tea party. In September they would be back at school and other things and people would fill up the hole she’d left.

‘Will you think about us?’ Toby whispered. He wasn’t usually soppy, going through each day without a backward glance and considering nothing deeper than the next meal.

‘All the time,’ she assured him. ‘Each time I see a little blond boy or girl I’ll wish I could cuddle you. I’ll look at your pictures each night and kiss you. I promise faithfully I’ll write every week and every chance I get I’ll be back to see you.’

‘Are you taking that with you?’ Toby pointed to an empty toffee tin shaped like a London bus.

‘No, I haven’t got room for it,’ she replied.

‘Can I have it then?’ he asked, suddenly brightening up. ‘I could keep my enamel paints in it.’

The quick change of mood was typical of Toby and very reassuring.

‘OK.’ Charity handed it to him. She wanted to remind him that just because she was leaving, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t care whether he was naughty or not. But warnings about telling lies and being sneaky might make him think she didn’t trust him.

‘Anything you want, Prue?’ she asked.

‘Could I have that charm bracelet?’

Charity didn’t hesitate: she undid the clasp and handed the bracelet to her sister. It wasn’t real silver and it had only come from Woolworth’s, but it had taken three weeks of pocket money to buy it and it made her feel grown-up.

‘Fancy asking for that,’ Toby said indignantly. ‘Charity loves it!’

‘Not as much as I love Prue.’ Charity fastened it round her sister’s wrist. ‘Just don’t lose it.’

They were off then, racing down the stairs, all thought of her forgotten. Charity went back to her packing.

Auntie Lou had bought her so many new clothes. The smart navy suit for the interview, then a raincoat with a furry lining. There was a whole pile of pretty underwear, including three teen bras. Even now they were hardly necessary, but Charity had been touched that Lou considered an emotional need more important than a physical one. She had a pencil skirt, three new sweaters and the sensible shoes Miss Hawkins had insisted on. She buried those at the bottom of the case because she didn’t like them. They were very comfortable brown ones but she’d really wanted a pair of winklepickers.