Never Look Back (9 page)

Her panic was heightened by the strained silence. Madam sat white-faced and anxious, clutching her child to her. Her husband perched on the edge of his seat, running one finger around his dog-collar as if at a loss where to begin. Lucas was looking intently at a painting on the wall, and the tick of the clock on the mantelpiece seemed very loud.

It was little Tabitha who broke the ice. As her mother put her down on the settee to pour the tea, she wriggled off and ran straight over to Lucas, smiling engagingly and holding up her arms for him to pick her up.

‘So you’ve come to see me, eh!’ Lucas forgot his nerves and his face broke into a broad, appreciative smile. ‘Well, you are a purty little thing, just like my Matty said you were.’

He scooped her up on to his lap and settled her into the crook of his arm, just as he had done with all his children at the same age. She looked up at him and patted his face with a chubby hand, as if she’d decided they were friends.

The tea pot rattled in Lily’s hand. She opened her mouth to order the child off his lap, but closed it just as rapidly as Lucas spoke to her daughter.

‘Now, you’ve got to be a good girl for my Matty,’ he said, tickling her chin. ‘No mischief. No running away!’

Matilda’s heart missed a beat at the older woman’s initial fearful reaction, but at her father’s tender words to the small girl all at once she felt a rush of warmth come into the room. Both parents smiled and visibly relaxed.

It was a good moment, and Matilda had never felt prouder of her father. In one entirely instinctive gesture, he’d wiped out the line between their classes and showed her the way to win the Milsons’ approval. All she had to do was love their child.

‘I had quite forgotten you are used to small children, Mr Jennings,’ Lily said, her small, pinched face suddenly looking almost pretty. ‘Of course one tries to prevent them from being over-friendly to strangers, but it seems Tabitha is a good judge of character.’

‘Takes me back to when Matty was small,’ Lucas said, looking down fondly at the little girl. ‘She’d wriggle on to me lap the moment I sat down. The boys was more distant like.’

Matilda sat in astounded silence as her father and Lily continued to chat about children. She had never imagined that her father was capable of conversing with those outside his own class and certainly not about domestic matters. It wasn’t until the tea had been passed round that Giles brought the subject back to Matilda’s duties.

‘Your main role will be to look after Tabitha in the nursery,’ he said. ‘But at times when she is sleeping or with Mrs Milson, we’d like you to give Aggie a hand around the house too.’

By the time the clock on the mantelpiece struck three, Matilda had drunk two cups of tea, and eaten three small sandwiches and an iced bun. She was aware that Lily wasn’t as keen to employ her as her husband appeared to be, but all the same she’d explained Tabitha’s daily routine from when she rose at around seven-thirty to her going to bed at six, and the way she said things like ‘And I’ll expect you to tidy the nursery, or wash her napkins’ implied she’d already made up her mind Matilda was to stay.

The duties sounded very light, after all she’d been used to looking after two small children single-handedly right since she was a child herself, without any of the luxury she would have here. It was true she had never used an iron or cleaned silver, and her cooking skills were very limited, but she was sure she could soon learn these things.

Giles said he would pay her five shillings a month and she could have every Tuesday afternoon off as long as she was home by nine at night.

When Lucas heard the clock chime he sensed he must be the one to finalize everything. He was more than convinced his daughter would be well treated here, but like Matilda he had noticed a certain coolness on Lily’s part. ‘I hope I’m not rushing you, but I have to get back to my boys,’ he said, getting to his
feet. ‘Now, is Matilda suitable for you both, or does she come back with me?’

Giles took a quick glance at his wife and she nodded back at him in agreement.

‘She certainly is suitable, Mr Jennings,’ Giles said, getting up from his chair and taking a step nearer to shake the man’s hand. ‘So if it’s agreeable with you we’d like her to start now. I just hope you can manage your boys without her.’

Lucas was relieved by the man’s eagerness. He thought Matilda would soon bring his wife round, there weren’t many she didn’t charm. ‘Don’t you worry none about them,’ he replied with a broad smile which showed his blackened teeth. ‘I’ll manage fine. Now you be good, Matty. And keep up your reading.’

‘I’ll see to that,’ Lily spoke up, smiling up at him from her position on the couch. She couldn’t describe herself as entirely happy with Matilda, her speech grated on her ears and the way she ate and drank was sickening. But Giles was after all an excellent judge of character, and if he truly believed Matilda was right for Tabitha, then it must be so.

Matilda hadn’t said anything to find fault with, but then she hadn’t said much at all, just looked around her with wide eyes. But Lily was taken with Mr Jennings. He was a decent man with a great deal of dignity. She had been dreading this interview, half expecting the man to steal the teaspoons or spit on the floor, so she’d been pleasantly surprised he knew how to behave in polite company. That at least suggested Matilda could adjust to being here. ‘Now, Matilda, why don’t you show your father out,’ she said, her tone much warmer. ‘I’m sure you’d like a couple of minutes alone together?’

At the front door Matilda hugged her father, trying hard not to cry.

‘Don’t you give them no cheek,’ Lucas said in a hoarse whisper as he held her tightly. ‘Learn all you can from them and become a lady.’

‘I’ll come and see you on my afternoon off,’ she whispered.

To her surprise he caught hold of her shoulders, gave her a little shake, and his expression was suddenly very fierce.

‘Oh no, Matty. You don’t come there no more.’

She thought he meant he didn’t want to see her any longer,
and the tears she’d tried so hard to suppress broke through. ‘You don’t want me no more?’ she sobbed

‘’Course I wants you,’ he said gruffly. ‘I just meant you wasn’t to come there. I’ll meet you on Tuesdays at five by Holy Joe’s.’

‘But why, Father?’ she asked in bewilderment. ‘I thought you’d want me to come ’ome and make you supper.’

For a moment he just looked at her, and his blue eyes so like her own were sad and bleak.

‘You’s out of that place now and I don’t want you coming nowhere near it again,’ he said eventually. ‘Never look back. Not never.’

Later that evening Matilda lay in bed in the little room just off the nursery, happily savouring the warmth, room to move, utter silence and the sweet-smelling starched sheets against her skin. Back in Finders Court there was only one worn, dirty blanket on the bed, sheets were an unknown luxury, warmth came from her brothers’ small bodies, and she often woke itching all over from bed bugs.

Her nursemaid’s uniform, a plain dark blue dress, was hanging behind the door and a crisp white starched apron and cap lay on the back of a chair in readiness for tomorrow. She had been in the parsonage less than eight hours, yet in that short time she’d been bombarded with so many items and experiences previously unknown to her that although she was exhausted and so very comfortable, she couldn’t sleep for thinking about them.

It might be the smallest, most insignificant house in the square, yet to her it was vast. Aside from the parlour, kitchen and scullery she’d seen previously there was a dining-room and a room with a desk and lots of books which Giles called his ‘study’. Upstairs there were four rooms. The nursery was at the front of the house with Matilda’s small room leading off it, across the landing was the Milsons’ room, and there was yet another spare one behind it. Every room had so much furniture – chests, chairs, odd little tables that served no purpose but to hold ornaments – and everything polished so they shone like glass. When she thought of the way people lived back in Finders Court, with two families to nearly every room, it seemed very unfair that just one small family could have all this to themselves.

Oil lamps were something she’d only seen from a distance until today, but Lily had shown her how to fill them, trim the wicks and light them. Each one could light up a room like a dozen candles. In the nursery there was a contraption in front of the fire called a guard, to prevent Tabitha burning herself. Meat was kept in a wire safe to keep the flies off it, even the sugar had a little muslin cap trimmed with beads to cover it. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the huge amount of plates and dishes used in this house – at home they had one tin plate each, scraped so clean they hardly warranted washing. Sugar tongs, butter knives, bowls and dishes for things she’d never heard of. Even the chamber-pots here were decorated with pretty flowers!

Matilda saw it as much more than a job, it was a place of great opportunity. Giles said she could read any book which took her eye, and Lily was going to teach her to sew, while Aggie would show her how to cook and launder. It was all so exciting. As for little Tabitha, she was the most adorable, sweet-natured child she’d ever met.

There was only one small grey cloud. Matilda had noticed Lily wince at her on several occasions today, and she thought that was because she didn’t talk like her or eat very dainty. Yet she wasn’t going to let that bother her too much; if she watched and listened to Lily very carefully, she thought she could quickly learn her fancy manners and nice way of talking.

Now, as she thought over all the events of the day, the reasons behind her father saying he didn’t want her to visit her old home became clearer. Her own mother had come up from the country to work in a nice house like this one, and if she hadn’t fallen in love with a waterman, her life might have continued to be secure and comfortable. Matilda had been too young when her mother died to know if she had regretted marrying Lucas, but clearly he thought he had let his wife and family down. Now that this chance had come for his daughter to better herself, he didn’t want anything to hold her back from climbing up the ladder of opportunity.

She supposed that his advice to ‘never look back’ was wise and kindly meant. But did he really think she could forget her past and origins that easily? Surely all those hard times had given her something which was worth carrying on into a new life?

As Matilda was dropping off to sleep, Lily Milson was wide awake in bed beside her husband, fraught with anxiety about her new nursemaid.

‘She eats like a savage, Giles,’ she whispered in the dark. ‘She tears at food, chews with her mouth wide open, and the noise she made drinking!’

‘She can’t help it, no one has ever taught her,’ Giles said comfortingly. ‘Just think of how good she is with Tabitha. She bathed her tonight with as much tenderness and care as you do.’

‘But what if Tabby picks up the way she speaks and eats?’

He slid his arm around his wife and cuddled her into his shoulder. ‘We correct them both together,’ he said evenly. ‘Now go to sleep, dear. Between us we’ll make something of her. She’s strong, capable and intelligent. I believe we’ve found an uncut diamond.’

Giles could feel how stiff and tense his wife was. She was clearly going to be awake half the night imagining terrible horrors, but knowing there was nothing more he could say to reassure her, he pretended to fall asleep.

He loved Lily for her sweetness, lack of vanity and her home-making skills, but there were times when he felt he might have been better advised to marry a more worldly and robust woman. She worried about the most trivial of things, and since Tabitha was born she’d been so fearful and agitated. She was well suited to being a parson’s wife here at St Mark’s where most of his parishioners were the class of people she’d been born into, but how would she manage when he had to move on elsewhere?

The past few years in Primrose Hill had been very pleasant, but Giles hadn’t taken the cloth to secure himself wealth or comfort. In his view St Mark’s could get by just as well with an elderly parson who liked to preach to the already converted and he should be sent somewhere that was more of a challenge.

He had already discussed this at length with the Bishop of London who agreed with his views, but Lily was the stumbling block. Her apprehension about Matilda was an exact reflection of her attitude towards all the poor. She was filled with compassion for them, she cared about injustice as much as he did, yet she was so repelled by dirt and the possibility of disease that she was likely to become ill herself if forced to live in close proximity to them.

Giles had been stunned three days ago when she not only embraced Matilda for saving Tabitha, but insisted she came home with them. But although Lily found pleasure in seeing the girl transformed by a bath and new clothes, if he hadn’t forcefully insisted they give her a chance as nursemaid, Lily would have considered she’d done her duty and happily sent the girl back to the slums without another thought.

Perhaps it was exactly that which had provoked Giles’s impulsive offer, though he hadn’t thought along those lines at the time. If Matilda proved herself here, and helped his wife to overcome her fears, then Lily might be more willing to consider moving on. Maybe the Lily he’d married would re-emerge again too when she had less work to do – it had been such a very long time since she’d responded to him with any passion.

The Bishop had said that America was desperate for young, enthusiastic English clergymen, and in Giles’s heart of hearts he felt that was the path God wanted him to follow. But he also wanted Lily to take that path with him willingly and joyfully.

A week later, on Sunday morning, Matilda was in St Mark’s Church with Tabitha and Lily, looking up at the Reverend Milson in the pulpit. She thought he looked quite beautiful with his shiny black curls almost touching the shoulders of his starched white surplice, and she felt very proud of herself for ironing it so well.

When her mother was alive she vaguely remembered being taken to a church on Sundays, and being made to say prayers before going to sleep. The only time Matilda had been in one since her death was either to shelter from the rain, or when she’d been lured in by a missionary with the promise of a hot drink and a bun.