Easterleigh Hall at War (37 page)

Auberon took a biscuit. ‘Come on, dig in, everyone. Let's listen.'

Veronica was looking at her, eagerness in her face. ‘Evie, what have you up your sleeve? Come on, out with it.' Mrs Moore nudged her. ‘Come on, Evie, or I will. It's a perfect idea. Harry and Ron both think so, so does your Jack.'

Veronica looked taken aback. ‘Oh, they know? Why haven't you shared it with us?'

Auberon sighed. ‘Do be quiet, Ver, let the girl speak.' He passed the biscuits to Mrs Moore, who took one, checking the clock as she did so. ‘Quickly now, we must get on.'

Evie drew a deep breath. ‘My dream has been to run a hotel and Easterleigh Hall will be perfect, and what have we been doing for the last four years if not making things better for people, changing beds, providing food? It would only be a short step to changing our role, once we have restored the house, and after the last patient has gone. Harry said that many of them would return as guests; what's more, they would spread the word, and their families already love it and have often said that they would like to be a patient here themselves. You've heard them, Ver?'

There was a pause. Veronica looked at Richard, and gripped his hand. Auberon was grinning at them all. Veronica said, ‘It's perfect, quite perfect. Of course, of course. Perfect.'

It was as though a dam had broken and words rushed around the kitchen, with Auberon pacing, and Veronica at his side. Richard joined them. Evie and Mrs Moore looked at the clock. Finally Evie shouted through her laughter, ‘Enough. We have luncheon to prepare, why not take yourselves into the garage yard to see the Tourer, and talk it through even further.' Mrs Moore was dabbing her face with her handkerchief, then she flapped it at them. ‘Yes, we need to feed the five thousand.'

Veronica spun round. ‘Evie, you are a diamond among women, isn't she, Aub?' She gave him no time to reply but ran on, ‘Please, you, and Mrs Moore, must know that you will be the most important of our staff, there will always be a job for you both, and we really need your cooking.'

Evie's laughter died. She felt as though the water of the dam had drenched and frozen her. So. So. Peace was here. Mrs Moore touched her arm, her face also cold, disappointment in every pore of her skin. Veronica stood there, her hand on her brother's arm, looking from Evie to Mrs Moore. ‘What? What have I said?'

Auberon had halted on his way to the door and he was watching Evie. Well, let him bloody watch. She drew herself up on to the balls of her feet, as Jack had always done before one of his bare-fist fights. She said, ‘I have money. Captain Neave left me some, as you well know, Lady Veronica. I will stay at Easterleigh Hall, but not as a servant, only as a partner.' She swept her arm towards Mrs Moore. ‘Our days in that position were over at the start of this war, surely you can see that, all of you?'

She looked from Auberon, to Veronica, to Richard. They coloured, and avoided her eyes. Evie continued, ‘My cooking alone would make me worthy of a partnership, and Mrs Moore too. The downstairs staff have done just as much to make the hospital function as the medical staff, and they have learned that out there, in the big wide world, there are other forms of work. I know that now the war is ended the munitions factories will close, and men will want their jobs back, but men and women won't be prepared to give up their freedom to be servants. If I stay I insist on a partnership. I insist that the staff are treated as staff, not servants. Surely if running this hospital has shown you anything it is that patients, or guests in this case, want the same faces around them. To that end you must encourage loyalty, give the staff some reason to stay. That means an annual share of the profits.'

They were all motionless, looking at the floor, apart from Auberon, who was staring at her, and listening closely. She gripped her hands into fists, knowing she might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. ‘Things shouldn't go back to the way they were before the war, with the class division written in stone, and if they do, then I wish you well, but I will leave, and I daresay there'll be a load of people along with me. Now, please, Mrs Moore and I have lunch to prepare, so leave the kitchen, Captain Auberon, Lady Veronica and Captain Williams.'

She turned her back on them, her mouth dry. She reached for the oven cloth and checked the state of the stuffed bullocks' hearts. One day good food would be plentiful again, but not yet. She heard them leave, felt Mrs Moore's hand on her shoulder, and only then did she smile, ruefully, and lay her head on Mrs Moore's shoulder. ‘I thought better of them,' she murmured.

Mrs Moore held her close, patting her. ‘They're learning. Let's see what happens, bonny lass. Remember that Mr Auberon has been through a great deal like everyone else, and from the look of him is bone bloody weary. He's been running around like a blue-arsed fly just recently, and has achieved much. Trust him. I do, now.'

Luncheon was served. It was vegetable soup, removed by stuffed bullock's heart, removed by rhubarb crumble with custard. The Bramptons ate in Lady Veronica's suite, as Evie made herself call her mistress now. Were they complaining about the jumped-up cook, she wondered, as the kitchen staff ate with the off-duty nurses, VADs and orderlies in the servants' hall.

In the afternoon Evie walked in the arboretum with Simon, who had returned in time for luncheon. He had come in the cart, his bicycle laid on top of the sea coal he and his father had collected, as Alec was on the back shift. He asked how the meeting had gone. She told him. There was silence. He held her hand lightly. ‘You're right, you know. In America there aren't servants, not like ours. There isn't this hierarchy, you can make it good.'

Evie sighed. ‘America? You and Den talked a lot then, in the camp? He's the one whose da is something on Broadway?'

Simon kissed her hand, looking over it and laughing. ‘Not his da, his
father
, Evie. Not everyone is from a pit village.'

She wanted to slap him. Instead she said, ‘Well I am, and you are, or have you forgotten?'

‘I'd like to, because if we want to get on, we have to.' Their pace had increased. She said, ‘But people coming to our hotel will want to hear you sing, and want to admire your garden, wherever it is. I spoke for you too this morning, bonny lad.'

Simon was looking at jackdaws high in the branches of the birch and sycamore. ‘I know you did, but . . .' He stopped.

She didn't want to know what he meant. She said, ‘I hope Jack and Grace have sorted themselves out. They're made for one another.'

Simon kissed her hand again. ‘Like us, Evie. Just like us.' He drew her to him and his kiss was hard, his hands on her body urgent, and slowly she felt herself respond. ‘It's been such a long time,' he murmured into her neck. ‘It's so strange not to be fenced in, surrounded by guards shouting, with beds to make, lines to learn. I just can't get used to it.'

She held him. ‘None of us can. Here, we still have a foot in the war with the convalescents arriving daily, but on the other hand, the guns have stopped. It's as though we don't know what to do any more.'

He held her shoulders, stood away and looked at her, really looked. ‘You do know, Evie. You always know what to do. Look how you set about them this morning. You're like Jack, so certain, so strong. Some of us aren't, you know. Some of us . . . Oh, I don't know.' He held her close again. She said into his shoulder, ‘I'm only certain about some things. Others I just don't understand at all.' She touched his hair, his lovely red hair which she had once loved, but about which she felt little, now.

After dinner had been cleared in the evening, Mrs Moore declared that she was too tired to face a lot of argy-bargy and swept into the central corridor. ‘Enjoy your evening with Mr Harvey,' Evie called. Mrs Green had passed along the corridor, on her way from the laundry to the linen store, and smiled wearily above her pile of sheets. Mrs Moore called, ‘Have a glass of sherry with us, Mrs Green?'

‘Thank you, Mrs Moore.'

Evie watched them walk along the corridor together. Mrs Green's hair was quite white now, and matched Mrs Moore's exactly. What was going to happen to these dear loyal efficient people? Would they stay or go? If they stayed, would they be paid properly, receive shares, be treated with respect?

Lady Veronica had said they would be down at nine, when James was settled and Lady Margaret would have returned from her visit to her parents with Penelope. Evie couldn't understand what it had to do with Lady Margaret, but no doubt it would be explained.

Beef tea was available for any patient who needed it, and as always there were bowls ready should egg custard be requested. Evie wiped over the dresser, and checked that Maudie and Joyce were getting on with the pots and pans. She collected those that were dried and polished, and rehung them above the deal table. The furnace was gurgling quietly. At eight forty-five she released the scullery maids from their duties and they headed into the servants' hall. Maudie muttered, ‘Can't get used to sitting there with no knitting on the go. I dream about balaclavas and ruddy khaki socks.'

At nine sharp Captain Auberon, Lady Veronica and Captain Richard entered the kitchen. Captain Auberon carried a tray with brandy goblets and a decanter. He set these on the table. Evie said, ‘Someone about to faint?'

At last they met her eyes, at last Veronica laughed.

Lady Margaret came along the central corridor and entered, closing the door, the chill clinging to her, a few snowflakes caught on her hat, and in the black fur collar of her coat. She had moved into one of the estate cottages when half the VADs left last week. Marion Walters, her new housemaid, had in fact moved her in, while she was with her parents. She was rubbing her hands. ‘I received your letter, Auberon, and have given the matter thought. Heavens, I only arrived back an hour ago; thankfully the cottage had been warmed through by Walters.'

Veronica pointed to a stool. ‘So lovely to see you, Margaret. As you know, we're here to discuss the hotel that Evie has suggested. You did say after the brouhaha with Father that if there was a rescue mission you would like to participate. Well, this is it, Margaret.'

Lady Margaret was wrenching off her black leather gloves with her teeth. It made her look even more like a horse. Evie stared, fascinated, then saw that Auberon was doing the same, and probably making the same comparison. For a moment their eyes met, and the laughter almost screeched out of his, as she knew it did from hers. She looked away, and down at the table, listening as Lady Veronica outlined the idea of the hotel, and the conditions as laid down by Evie.

There was a pause. Evie looked from one to another, refusing to be cowed. Lady Veronica ended by saying, ‘I think we each need to say what we feel, honestly and briefly. Aub, would you begin?'

‘In a moment, let's pour the brandy first. I need a tot if no one else does. There should no longer be shells popping off every five minutes, but it feels as though there might be.' Auberon poured. They all watched as though he was creating a masterpiece. The kettle burbled on the range, some damp coal hissed in the furnace. He handed out the brandy glasses. Evie saw the scars on his hands, the gouge across three fingers. Shrapnel, which had cut to the bone?

He said, lifting his glass and studying the amber liquid, swirling it within the glass, ‘I applaud Evie's ideas and apologise without reservation for my reaction. It's strange how you leave one situation and arrive in another, one so different that it defies belief and changes, fundamentally, everything one has been brought up to adhere to. I refer, of course, to the war. However, at this point I pause, because you and I, Ver, were brought up by Mother and Wainey to respect others as people. I had forgotten that, but in war I found it again, thanks, primarily, to yet another member of the Forbes family. At the outbreak of peace one returns to the old world, and assumes the old attitudes all too easily. Forgive me, Evie. I think your idea of shares is inspired and I accept with eagerness a partnership with you, Mrs Moore, Uncle Tom Cobley and all. My name is Auberon, I do not require Mr, just to be quite clear.' He raised his glass to her.

Richard looked from him to his wife. ‘Your turn, Ver.'

She gripped his hand. ‘Aub's thoughts are ours entirely, aren't they, Richard? Nothing changes, we are as we were, friends, and now partners, and I couldn't be happier, or more excited.' She and Richard raised their glasses, grinning.

Lady Margaret was running her finger around the edge of her glass, her colour high. Perhaps she should remove her coat, Evie thought, and suggested as much.

Lady Margaret declined, and turned to Veronica. ‘I know that you and I have always held different opinions regarding the ability of the lower orders, Veronica. You and Evie followed Sylvia Pankhurst's universal suffrage ideals, while I supported Christabel and Emmeline's more selective and realistic policies. I concur with their thoughts and feel that only those of certain breeding, means and education can handle information and behave with intelligence in positions of authority. If you all cast your mind back to February of this year you will remember that the vote was awarded to women over thirty, and those who were property owners, a clear indication that this situation is recognised and supported by our government. There is sense to the old order. In our society, you and I, dearest Veronica, have the education to guide those less able. I am fond of Evie, as you know my dear.' She smiled at Evie. ‘Indeed, my late husband enjoyed the many hours he spent with you, in here, laughing and joking, leaving me alone, to my own devices.'

She was smoothing her gloves now. Evie watched, remembering Major Granville who would remove his mask and just sit and talk, because his lower jaw and tongue were whole, and his face, though an initial shock, was something that became unremarkable. She hadn't known that Lady Margaret was lonely, and missed his company. Lady Margaret continued, ‘But I can only be involved in something which I respect.'