Charles Palliser (132 page)

At six the livery-servants reassembled in the hall for their tea and Bessie and I brought in loaves of bread and cheese and small-beer for the men. The women drank tea, and this was a complicated operation since each of them had their own locked tea-caddy and sugar, and had to have a separate pot each. This time I managed to seize several pieces of bread and a small lump of cheese — mainly the rind — while removing the dishes.

By the time Bessie and I had cleared and washed up after this, the bustle over preparations for the first and second tables was increasing.

“Parlour-dinner for five,” I heard the under-cook say to the first footman. “And three trays.”

Towards seven o’clock Bob came in, staggering slightly and looking extremely ill-tempered, searching for me so that he and I could wait on the upper servants at dinner in the housekeeper’s dining-room as before. This time she had company so there were two more to be served. Just as at luncheon Bob ensured that I had no opportunity to take anything from the food that was left uneaten.

At the end of the meal the ladies withdrew to the housekeeper’s private sitting-room.

Bob told me to serve their tea there while he waited on the gentlemen for their dessert.

When I had done as I had been ordered, I tried to sit on a bench in the scullery and rest for a few minutes but Bob came in and just as he was cuffing me to my feet the bell rang in the housekeeper’s room.

“You heerd it,” he said. “Go and clear up.”

I went back and found Mr Thackaberry and the valet, just as before, dozing in front of the fire. I cleared up here and in the sitting-room and then helped Bessie to wash up.

By now the family’s dinner was being served and the soiled dishes and pans from each course were beginning to arrive for our attention. Our task now, however, was merely to fill them with water, mix in caustic soda and A FRIEND ON THE INSIDE

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leave them to soak overnight to be scoured and polished by us the next morning.

It was after half-past nine before Bessie announced that we had done all we had to do for the moment. I sank onto a bench, wondering as I did so where I would sleep now that at last this interminable day seemed to be finished. Almost immediately I dozed off, but in that last assumption I was mistaken, for after a few minutes Bessie shook me awake to tell me that it was time for us to serve supper in the servants’-hall.

We did so and then had to clear it and deal with the dishes. As I was engaged upon this a sour-faced man of about sixty dressed in a long greasy gaberdine top-coat and carrying a battered hat, came along the passage. As we passed he stared at me intently, swinging his head to follow me with his watery, somewhat protuberant eyes. I noticed that he went into Mr Thackaberry’s pantry without knocking.

By now I was so exhausted that I had no thought of eating. Shortly after this Bob and I carried tea to the housekeeper’s room and cleared it away afterwards. At half-past ten the man whom I had seen arriving appeared from the pantry with Mr Thackaberry, the latter flushed and slightly unsteady. They made for the stairs.

“Come on,” said Bob, seizing me by the shoulder and pushing me towards the stairs after them.

As we passed his little closet he reached in and picked up two wooden boxes, one small and the other large. He thrust the large one at me and I seized it and followed him and the other two men up the stairs. I realized that we were to accompany the others and, tired as I was, I felt a stirring of excitement at the reflection that this would bring me closer to the purpose of my being here.

First Mr Thackaberry, taking the key from the impressive bunch that he carried threaded on a chain, locked the back-door into the yard — the door that had always been left unlocked! This was a serious blow to my hopes. Then we went above stairs and into the hall where Bob turned off the gas-jets which were installed only on this floor.

We went to the door of the Blue Drawing-room and as the nightwatchman — for so I now guessed him to be — and the butler went in I made to follow them, but Mr Thackaberry turned and said angrily: “Where the deuce do you suppose you’re going?

You never go into any of the rooms above stairs except to clean them in the mornings. Is that clear enough for you?”

He spoke as if I were an ideot and this idea seemed to have taken currency. (As it turned out it was quite useful for me that this was believed.) I nodded: “Yes, Mr Thackaberry.”

“Mr Jakeman, if this boy gives you any trouble, deal with him as you think best.”

The nightwatchman nodded, eyeing me speculatively.

So I stood outside each door and held the lighted candle that Bob handed to me before he went in. The others passed in and, under the supervision of Mr Thackaberry, closed the shutters and locked them. Bob went round the room extinguishing any candles that were still burning, and collecting the candle-ends which he placed in the smaller box. As the little party came out of each room the butler locked the door.

When this operation had been performed on each of the ground-floor rooms, the butler and the nightwatchman secured and locked the street-door.

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“Who’s yet to come?” asked Jakeman.

“All the fambly’s back,” said Ned, one of the other footmen who was on hall-duty,

“save Mr David.”

“Damn his eyes,” snarled Jakeman. “I suppose it’ll be another of his late nights to keep me from my sleep agin.”

I noticed Ned and Bob snigger at each other at these words.

“Good-night, Joseph,” Mr Thackaberry said, and returning the greeting the footman went below stairs, off duty now that the street-door was locked.

Now we all passed upstairs and went through the same procedure for each of the rooms on this floor, including, of course, the Great Parlour in which I was so interested.

When we had completed the circuit of the rooms, Mr Thackaberry handed the keys to Jakeman and, to my surprise, took the box of candle-ends from Bob. (I later learned that it was one of the butler’s prerogatives to sell them to the chandler.) He and the watchman then went down the stairs again while Bob and I ascended to the next floor.

Here we — or, rather, I — collected the boots and shoes from outside each door and placed them in the large box. Thus I learned that Sir Perceval and Lady Mompesson’s chambers were on this floor, as were those of “Mr David” and “Mr Tom” and any guests of the family who might be staying in the house.

After this we went up to the next floor where less important members of the family and superior members of the staff — the steward, the governess, and Mr Tom’s tutor —

had their apartments. We went no higher for above this was merely the attic-story in which the house-maids and kitchen-maids slept. Later I learned that most of the men-servants, as well as the housekeeper and the cook, slept in the basement. The remaining servants slept outside — the coach-men and grooms above the stables and the laundry-maids above the laundry-house.

My box was full and very heavy by the time we returned below stairs to deposit it in Bob’s closet ready for me the next morning.

“Bright and early tomorrer,” Bob said. Then he turned and began to walk down the passage.

“Please, Mr Bob,” I said, “where am I to sleep?”

He turned, shrugged his shoulders and yawned, but answered with what, for him, was a remarkable degree of amiability: “The last boy found hisself a shake-down on the bench in the scullery, I b’lieve.”

“Have you any blankets?”

“Blankets?” he exclaimed, his good humour instantly dissipated. “No I ain’t. What do you take me for, a maid-sarvint?”

He strode out and feeling that I was so tired I could sleep anywhere — even on the hard and narrow bench he had mentioned — I went into the scullery where I found only a small fire still weakly smouldering. I moved the bench as near as possible to this faint source of warmth and stretched myself out. Even here it was cold now and without any covering I feared that I would be too chilled to sleep. But I was wrong for, worn out as I was, I fell quickly and deeply asleep.

It seemed only a few minutes later that I felt myself being physically dragged up from my slumbers. I realized that I was being held and shaken, and opened my eyes to find myself blinded by a lanthorn.

Then it was dimmed and I saw the nightwatchman’s face close to mine and glaring at me: “Git out o’ here. This ain’t where you shakes down.”

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“Can’t I sleep over there, please Mr Jakeman?” I asked pointing towards a more distant part of the room, for I was reluctant to be banished from the comparative warmth of the fire.

“Not in here,” Jakeman insisted.

“But I’ll freeze anywhere else,” I protested. “Where can I go?”

“To the devil, for all I care. You’ll find it hot enough for you there, I dare say. Now move yourself.”

He seized my shoulders and pushed me towards the door. So, without even a candle I blundered down the passage and felt my way into the servants’-hall. As I did so I noticed a faint but acrid smell and in the pale moonlight from the subterranean window, I glimpsed a movement below and around me. As my eyes grew accustomed to the near-darkness, I realized that the floor was thickly covered with black-beetles so tightly packed together as to form a shiny living carpet. I shuddered, but I had little choice and so I stretched out on one of the narrow forms. It occurred to me that I had earlier wondered what form of life in this house was lower and more despised than myself, and now I had learned the answer.

This time the cold was so intense that I could not sleep even though I was exhausted.

The edge of my tiredness had been blunted by my brief repose, and I was distracted by the ceaseless, loathsome movement beneath me.

The document I sought was now only a few yards from me — assuming that it was in the hiding-place — but I still had to deal with the nightwatchman, the locked door of the Great Parlour, and above all the combination-lock that guarded the hiding-place. I also had to consider the question of how I would make good my escape. There was no point in securing the will only to find myself unable to get out of the house, like the servants pursuing Mr Digweed and myself ! And now that I had learned that the back-door was locked at night, I saw that this would prove to be a major obstacle for though I believed I could get through the small lock on the door into the Great Parlour, I could see that the locks on both the street-door and the back-door were not of the kind that could easily be picked by someone as inexpert as myself. The alternative to escaping immediately after securing the will, would be to conceal it somewhere in the house and hope to be able to get clear with it before its absence was discovered. But what a risk that would be! At the very thought I became so alarmed that sleep eluded my grasp even further.

Eventually I must have fallen into a restless, dream-haunted sleep for the next thing I recall is a soft noise — strangely insidious and insistent — which gradually awakened me. When I opened my eyes I found it was still absolute night. The noise came again: Tap-tap-tap.

I went into the passage and it seemed to be coming from the scullery, so I cautiously opened the door and went in. To my surprise it was empty. The meagre fire had gone out. Where was the nightwatchman? There was a faint yellow gleam at the window and now that I went closer I saw a face on the other side of the grimy pane. It was the laundry-maid, Nellie, who was holding a candle and tapping on the glass. I put my face against it and she smiled and nodded at me to indicate that she wanted to come in. I shrugged to show her that I could not comply for the door was locked and the watchman had the key.

Nellie frowned, pointed to my right, and then, putting her face as close to 610 THE

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the dirty window-pane as the iron bars on the outside permitted, called: “Wake him, will you.”

Cautiously I went into the kitchen and there I found Jakeman fast asleep, sprawled on a bench before the banked-up fire with a stone-bottle of gin, uncorked and empty, lying beside him. It was much warmer in here, but why had he driven me from the scullery if he did not intend to sleep there himself ? I went across and addressed him. He did not stir. I spoke louder, then touched his arm, then seized him by the shoulders and vigorously shook him. He muttered irritably and when he opened his mouth I inhaled the perfume of gin, but his eyes remained firmly closed. I began to search for the keys, reflecting that if I could find them, then here lay the answer to how I could escape from the house. They were, however, not hanging from his belt nor in any of the pockets that I could reach. I continued to shake him and slapped his cheeks until at last I managed to wake him.

He glared at me with deep though drunken suspicion.

“Where are the keys?” I asked. “Nellie wants to be let in.”

“Nivver you mind that,” he said. “I’ll let the damned b-— in meself.”

He shook his head muttering to himself and ran his hands through his hair. I waited but he looked at me ferociously: “What are you standing there for?”

“If you give me them, I can let her in.”

“I’ll git ’em. You cut away!” he snarled.

As I left the kitchen he followed me into the scullery and as I went out closed the door behind me. Of course! He had hidden the keys somewhere in there so that he could drink and sleep without any danger of their being taken from him. So that was why the other servants had been unable to unlock the street-door that night! And it was that that had saved Mr Digweed and me! Then could I find out where he hid them?

I waited in the dark passage for a few moments. Then Nellie opened the door and gave me a conspiratorial smile. Jakeman was not there.

“I’ve had a divil of a job to wake him since Dick’s been gone,” Nellie said to me. “I’ve had to stand out there in the cold and wait on Bessie to finish her work in the housekeeper’s rooms and come and let me in.”

“Couldn’t the back-door be left unlocked for you?” I asked.

“They used to do that, on’y there was a burglary that way a few months back and since then Mr Thackaberry has made him lock it. But never mind that now. What are you standing there for? You’ve work to do or you’ll ketch it hot from Bob.”