No Wings to Fly (4 page)

‘Of course not, Father.’ She felt a little touch of pride that he had confided in her, though his words merely confirmed that her dream was irrevocably shattered.

‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘– so now you know.’

A few moments of silence, then Lily said, ‘So – so what am I to do, then, Father? I don’t know if Mrs Meller’d want me all year long. She might, though. I could ask her.’

‘No, you won’t be staying with the Mellers,’ he said shortly. He looked across towards the garden, avoiding her gaze. ‘We’re making other arrangements for you, your mam and me.’

‘Making other arrangements?’

‘That’s what your mam’s doing now. She’s gone off to meet Mrs Haskin, from Whitton.’

‘Mrs Haskin – who used to live here in the lane?’

‘Ah, that’s right. Before her husband inherited the share in the carriage company and they moved to Whitton.’

‘I remember them. They were old friends of yours.’

‘Well,
he
was, in particular. Roger Haskin. Oh, I’ll say. We’ve known each other since we were boys.’

‘Yes,’ Lily said, ‘I remember your saying. You were even in the military together.’

‘We were indeed. They were great days, those days in the Fusiliers. He’s a fine chap, is Roger Haskin. The best friend a man ever had.’

Lily had been made aware of the couple from time to time, though they had not lived in Compton Wells for a number of years. Middle-aged and childless, they were frequently referred to, and were established as old friends,
and on one occasion a few years back Mrs Haskin had returned to the village and called in for tea. Lily remembered her as tall, with a large, plump frame, and a wide, smiling mouth; she had made a fuss of baby Dora. ‘What about Mrs Haskin, Father?’ Lily said. ‘Why is Mother seeing her about me?’

Before Mr Clair had a chance to reply, there came a distant call from the direction of the house, and he said, ‘Ah, there’s your mother and Dora come back. We’d best get up to the house. Don’t say anything more for the present. We’ll talk again soon.’

Later, in the scullery, Lily was set to washing Dora and getting her into her nightdress for the hour or so remaining before she took her up to bed. As she worked, she could hear her father and stepmother’s low, murmuring voices coming from the kitchen. When she went into the room with Dora, though, their conversation abruptly changed its tone.

Tom came back from the farm a little after six, and when Dora had gone off to sleep upstairs the four of them sat down to eat. Afterwards, Lily carried the dishes out to the scullery and began to wash them. As she stood at the sink, her father came in from the kitchen.

‘It’s settled,’ he said. ‘It’s all settled now. You’ll be going to Mr and Mrs Haskin at Whitton.’

Lily put down the dish she was washing and turned to him. ‘Go to – to Mr and Mrs Haskin . . .?’ She had begun to fear something like this. ‘It’s all arranged?’

‘Yes. You’re to go as general maid. Mrs Haskin needs help around the place. The maid she had has just left and she’s lookin’ for another one.’

Lily stood in silence, letting the news sink in. ‘How long must I go for?’ she asked.

‘How long? Well, that remains to be seen.’ There was a
certain brusqueness in his manner, an awkwardness in giving the unwelcome news. ‘At least for three or four years, I should reckon. After that we can think about it.’

‘Three or four years. But – but a girl’s petty place – when she first goes off into service – it’s usually for no more than a year. And if – ’

‘It’s not the same,’ he broke in shortly ‘You’re going to friends. It’s not the same thing at all.’

‘Oh, Father – must I go?’

‘Yes,’ he said sternly, ‘you must. I told you, it’s all settled. And it’s true what your mam says: look at your old school-friends – those girls were going into service at twelve and thirteen. You should be grateful we let you stay on as long as you did. And what else is there for you to do? You’ve got to start bringing something in and paying your share.’

‘Oh, I want to do that,’ Lily said, ‘but – couldn’t I go somewhere local? Oh, let me ask Mrs Meller – see if she’d keep me on full time.’

‘I told you, it’s all settled. Besides, the Mellers don’t pay enough. The bit extra you get from the Haskins will come in very handy – specially in times like these.’

‘But Father –’

‘Enough!’ he said sharply. ‘It’s done. You go Sunday, a week tomorrow.’

When the Sunday came, Lily helped her stepmother get the midday dinner, and afterwards, when the dishes had been washed and put away, got into her second-best dress and put on her bonnet. Near the time of her leaving, her father came up to her room and hoisted up the box she had packed over the previous days, and carried it downstairs. It was not so heavy, for she owned little.

Tom was at the farm and not there to see her off, but they had made their sad goodbyes earlier. He had said little in words, but she could see from the way he pressed his lips
together, and feel from the hard grip of his hand that he was deeply moved. Now there was just Dora and her stepmother. Lily bent to her half-sister and kissed her on the cheek, and then turned to her stepmother. ‘Well – goodbye, Mother.’

‘You don’t need to look so long in the face,’ Mrs Clair said. She made no move to embrace her stepdaughter but stood with her arms folded over her flat bosom. ‘You’re only going to Whitton, you’re not going to Timbuktu. You’ll soon have a chance to come back and see us.’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘And listen – don’t write home asking us to send things. And don’t forget what we arranged – you remember to send something when you get your first pay.’

‘I won’t forget.’ In addition to her board and lodging, Lily was to receive twelve pounds a year, paid to her in quarterly sums, and it had been agreed that she would send a portion of her wages back home, to help out. The little that was left, she could keep for herself.

When it was time, Lily took her little portmanteau, and with her father carrying her box on his shoulder, they walked to the crossroads where they caught an omnibus to the station and got on the train. When eventually they arrived in Whitton they took one of the station flys, and after a short journey the vehicle turned at a crossroads and slowed in front of an old house.

‘Well, here we are,’ Mr Clair said, and moments later he and Lily were standing outside the carriage and looking at the house which, for the foreseeable future, was to be Lily’s home.

The house, Hollygrove, was situated on the Corster Road, some little distance from the centre of the small town of Whitton. It had a slate roof, and timber and plaster walls that were partly covered by ivy. It stood apart from the dwellings on either side with the space taken up by a small
paddock on one side, and a large kitchen garden on the other. In the front garden, shrubbery grew thickly around an area of patchy grass.

‘Well, come on, then.’ As the fly began to turn in the road, Mr Clair pushed open the gate, and together they made their way around the side of the house to a green-painted door. There Mr Clair set the box down at his feet and knocked.

The door was opened by Mrs Haskin, who beamed at them and said expansively, ‘Well, here you are. Do come in.’ She stepped back, and Mr Clair, carrying Lily’s box, stepped into the kitchen. ‘You might as well take your things upstairs at once,’ Mrs Haskin said. ‘Come along.’ Moving ahead of them, she led the way into the main hall and up two flights of stairs to a small attic room at the top of the house. ‘Here we are,’ she said as Lily came up onto the landing. ‘I think you’ll be comfortable here.’

Inside the little room, Lily put down her portmanteau, and her father set down the box. Mrs Haskin watched from just inside the doorway, and nodded her approval. ‘Good. Now come on downstairs and we’ll have some tea.’ She turned to Mr Clair. ‘I’ve got the kettle on, Edwin, and I’m sure you could do with a cup.’ Mr Clair thanked her, but said he wouldn’t stop as he had left the fly waiting outside. ‘I told Annie I’d get the next train back,’ he said.

‘Oh, well, if you can’t stay,’ Mrs Haskin said, stepping out onto the small landing. ‘I’m sure Lily’ll want to see you off, then.’

The three of them made their way downstairs to the hall, where Mrs Haskin opened the front door, saying, ‘Now you have a good journey back, Edwin, and don’t you worry about your girl. She’ll be fine.’ She turned to Lily, raised her hand and gently pinched the girl’s cheek. ‘We’re going to get along just grand, I know we are.’

The open front door revealed the fly standing by the front
gates. When Mrs Haskin had made her farewells to Mr Clair, she said she would see Lily in a minute and then turned and headed back towards the kitchen. Lily and her father went out to where the carriage waited at the roadside.

‘Well, Lily,’ Mr Clair said, ‘you look after yourself, won’t you?’

‘I will, Father.’

‘And be a good girl and do as you’re told, all right?’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘And mind you’re a credit to me – you will be, won’t you?’

‘I will.’

‘Good. Don’t you be doing or saying anything that’ll reflect badly. But you wouldn’t do that anyway, would you – smart girl like you?’

‘I’ll do my best, Father, really I will.’

‘Ah, I’m sure you will, and I’m sure your best’ll be good enough – if you want it to be. You’ve got a clever head on your shoulders, you’ve got a willing spirit, and a capable pair of hands. I don’t think as Mrs Haskin can ask for more.’ He glanced back towards the house. ‘You’ll get on all right with her, I’m sure. She’s a nice enough woman, and her husband, Roger, is an absolute champ.’ He nodded endorsement of his words, and touched at the collar of his shirt. ‘I must go or I’ll miss my train.’

He bent and gave Lily a peck on the cheek. ‘Well, g’bye, girl. You be good now.’

‘Goodbye, Father.’

He climbed in and closed the door after him, and a moment later the vehicle was starting away. As the rough little carriage moved off along the road Lily felt a tightness in her throat and the sting of tears in her eyes. She stood watching until the cab had gone out of sight around the bend.

She was still standing there a minute later when from behind her came Mrs Haskin’s voice calling out, ‘Well, are you gunna stay out there all day, young lady? Because there’s things to be done.’

The words shook Lily out of her preoccupation, and she turned and saw Mrs Haskin just closing the front door. Without wasting a moment, Lily moved around the side of the house to the rear door. As she stepped inside, Mrs Haskin said, ‘And if you’re looking for a drink of tea, dear, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait and make do with water. I’d have made some tea for your father, but since he decided not to bother, we shan’t be bothering either. You can have some later with your supper. Now,’ Mrs Haskin stood before her, hands clasping the dish towel over her girth, ‘I suggest you go upstairs and get changed into your working frock and your pinny. Then you come on down and I’ll tell you what your duties are gunna be. Maybe then we can get summat done.’

Lily spent the next hour in chores around the house, and then, shortly after six o’clock, Mr Haskin came in. His shadow darkened the open scullery doorway for a moment as he stepped into the room, his glance at once falling on Lily. ‘I reckon there’s gunna be some rain,’ he said, looking curiously at her. Then with a nod and a smile he said, ‘Hello, young miss.’

Lily gave a little bob, and said, ‘Mr Haskin, sir.’

He was a broad shouldered man of medium height, thick dark hair turning grey. Looking to be in his mid-forties, he was quite clearly some ten or so years younger than his wife. He was quite good-looking, with a strong nose, heavy dark brows, and a wide, generous mouth. He stood there with his hat in his hand looking Lily up and down.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘so we’ve got our new little maid. Though not so little really. How old are you, young lady?’

‘Fifteen, sir.’

‘Fifteen, eh. And you’re Edwin’s girl.’

‘Yes, sir.’

He nodded again. ‘You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t remember you from when we lived at Compton. I reckon you must have been knee-high to a grasshopper when I saw you last.’ He smiled warmly at her. ‘Anyway, it’s nice to have you here. We can do with some decent help after that useless little minx Kitty went off. Have you heard about her?’

‘No, sir.’

‘No, and indeed why should you? And it’s just as well she went of her own accord afore she was pushed.’

Mrs Haskin looked up from the food she was preparing and said, ‘The girl don’t need to know all our business, Father. She’ll have enough to do looking after her own affairs without bothering with ours.’

‘And right you are,’ Mr Haskin said. ‘Right you are.’

Later on Lily sat down to eat with the couple, and was relieved to find that the simple supper of cheese, pickles and cold ham was good. After they had eaten, she set about washing and drying the dishes, and then it was time for her to go to bed.

As Lily made her way through Whitton’s small park, she hitched the basket more securely over her arm and looked up at the heavens. The July sun had made an attempt to shine earlier on, and had succeeded for a while, but now clouds had come drifting over and the sky was turning grey and threatening. She just hoped that the rain would keep off, for she had brought no umbrella.

In her basket she carried a package containing a pork pie, two pickled eggs and some bread and cheese – Mr Haskin’s midday dinner which he had forgotten to take along with him earlier that morning. It was not the first time it had happened during Lily’s employment with the family.

The year now was 1866, and it would soon be three years since she had come to Whitton to begin her work with Mr and Mrs Haskin. Thinking of it sometimes lately, she could scarcely believe that so much time had gone by – how, almost unnoticed, the days had slipped into weeks, the weeks into months, and the months into years. It had, generally, thankfully, been a painless process.

Following her arrival she had settled fairly swiftly into a routine and was very soon going about her duties as a matter of course. She had been relieved to find also, that after initial misgivings about Mrs Haskin’s rather sharp manner, for the most part she got on well with her. As the weeks passed, Mrs Haskin had seemed to relax and soften in her manner towards the girl, and, evidently, to judge her
worthy of her bed and board and £12 a year. Even so, Lily had to watch her step, for there were occasions when her mistress would be prone to outbursts and passions, and a slip in Lily’s work might result in a sharp rebuke, or on very rare occasions, a quick dig with a hard hand.