The Downstairs Maid (50 page)

Of course, she had to hope that people would come in and order drinks and food, because if they didn’t Ma would need to sell the lease. At least if the pub looked special, someone would want to buy the lease – wouldn’t they?

Emily had to believe they would, because she had nothing else. Ma couldn’t manage alone, and Jack needed a loving sister to take care of and love him. He had to be encouraged to walk and to speak, and he must learn to use his potty. Her heart broke for the way he’d been left dirty, hungry and wet since she’d gone to work at the manor. Emily had always had Pa’s love even if her mother hadn’t been kind to her. Jack hadn’t had anyone to love him until now – but now he had Emily and she had no intention of deserting him.

Somehow she would make a good life for them all, with or without her mother’s help.

‘If Jack isn’t any better by the morning I shall take him to the doctor,’ Emily said, listening anxiously to her brother’s dry cough. ‘He’s had this too long and I’m worried about him.’

‘You fuss over him too much,’ Ma said. ‘He will be perfectly all right.’

‘I think you should stay up here and watch him this evening,’ Emily said. ‘We can manage downstairs.’

‘It’s Thursday and we’re always busy in the evenings,’ Ma objected. ‘If you’re that worried about him you can pop up and look at him every now and then. I shall be serving behind the bar, as usual.’

Emily stared at her mother hard. Ma was looking much better these past few months. She’d had her hair cut and colour-rinsed so that the sprinkling of grey was covered and the difference had made her seem much younger. Men had started giving her more than a passing glance and Emily knew that was why she had refused to stay upstairs and look after Jack. Every Thursday night, a certain travelling salesman came in to the pub for a few drinks. His name was Ian Smith and he sold lingerie to various department stores in the area. He often had free samples, which he gave to Ma, and Emily couldn’t help wondering what her mother had given him in return. Ma sometimes disappeared for nearly an hour on a Friday morning. Emily wondered if she met Ian Smith, but she couldn’t accuse her mother of seeing a man.

They had managed for some months with a kind of armed truce between them. Emily’s hard work had paid off and the customers had started to come in gradually, perhaps not the ones Derek had favoured, but farmers called for a pint and a meat pie or a roll with cheese and pickles on Thursdays. Men like Ian Smith, who visited the area often, made it a regular call and Emily had been asked several times if they had considered taking in a lodger.

She’d thought about clearing Derek’s room but a lodger would mean more work and at the moment both Emily and Ma needed to work in the bar. If they could afford to take on more bar staff then a lodger might be the next step, but Emily was taking things slowly. Every morning she was up early to scrub the bar and the kitchen, opening windows to let out the smell of stale beer, which still crept back whatever she did. Once she’d got Jack up and given him his breakfast, she started preparing the food they would serve in the bar. Each week she tried something different, but so far she’d stuck to things like pasties, pies, tarts and soups with fresh bread, and a range of sandwiches, which were made to order. Her dream of providing proper meals had not come to anything, because although their trade had steadily picked up she could not yet afford to employ more than one girl and one lad for the heavy work in the yard.

During closing hours, she washed pots and pans and cleaned the rest of the house. Ma took Jack for walks in the park or to the river to feed ducks on fine days and on wet days she reluctantly gave Emily a hand with the chores upstairs. Emily was doing three-quarters of the work, but she’d expected that and it had seemed worthwhile, because Jack was so much better. He said Emily’s name now and talked in sentences of two or three words, mostly ‘Jack want …’ or ‘Emily kiss …’. He’d learned to tell them when he wanted the toilet and had suddenly started to walk, clinging on to things at first but gradually getting stronger.

Because she loved her little brother, who, she sadly acknowledged, wasn’t quite all he should be, Emily had found a kind of contentment in her work. She’d written to her friends at the manor. Miss Lizzie had replied, telling her she would be getting married in the summer and inviting her to visit her at the manor when she had time. Mrs Hattersley had come to visit once and stayed to drink a lemonade shandy and eat one of Emily’s pasties.

‘It might be better for a dab more pepper,’ she said, ‘but your pastry was always good, Emily. Didn’t I tell you, you should be a cook?’

They’d talked for a while and she’d told Emily to visit her in the kitchen at the manor whenever she had the time. Emily thanked her, but of course there never was time. She was on her feet from early in the morning until the door was locked behind the last of the customers at night, and some of them lingered over their drinks for as long as they possibly could. The man she employed sometimes had to persuade a rowdy drunk to leave. Thankfully, they didn’t have many of that kind of customer, but there were always going to be a few, and sometimes they were not noisy louts at all, but unhappy men escaping from a nagging wife or a miserable home life.

Emily listened to their stories and their complaints; sometimes they made her smile, and other times they brought tears to her eyes. If she’d had time to think about it she would have said that she was lonely, but she seldom had time to dwell on her own feelings. At night when she finally fell into bed she was exhausted – more tired than she’d ever been at the manor.

Emily sometimes thought regretfully of the time she’d spent there and whenever she remembered a certain Christmas a lump came to her throat. She still had Nicolas’s necklace, which she wore beneath her dress all the time. Emily wasn’t sure why she did that, except that she felt it was the safest place. A public house was just that – and there was little to stop anyone going up the back stairs to their private rooms when she and Ma were busy in the bar. She’d put up a notice saying Private, but she’d seen Ian Smith coming down the stairs once when she’d been going to check on Jack. He’d told her that Ma had said he could use their private toilet, because the one in the yard was blocked. That had been true so Emily couldn’t complain, but she kept all her best things locked in a private cupboard upstairs. As yet she hadn’t had to sell any of her treasures, because they’d done reasonably well almost from the start – and she didn’t want to lose her precious things to light-fingered strangers.

They were very busy that Thursday evening and the bar was crowded, people asking for drinks and food. Emily soon ran out of pasties and meat pies and had to go into the kitchen to make sandwiches and toast with bacon rashers for her customers. When she returned she discovered that her staff was rushed off its feet and there was no sign of Ma. She served the customers who had ordered food and a few that were waiting for drinks, then told Vera behind the bar that she was popping upstairs to check on her brother.

‘You don’t know where Ma went?’

‘She was talking with that travelling salesman,’ Vera said and went off to serve another pint of beer.

Emily frowned as she ran upstairs. It was too bad of Ma to sneak off with her fancy man, if that’s what she’d done – but perhaps she’d gone to check on Jack? Emily passed her mother’s room on her way to her brother’s. She heard something but took little notice as Jack cried out. Going quickly into his room, she picked him up and discovered that he’d wet himself.

‘Jack bad,’ he said and started whimpering.

‘Jack is not bad, we’ll soon make him dry again,’ Emily said and took him into her arms to kiss him. She heard a shriek from next door but was too intent on making her brother comfortable to take much notice. She changed the bed, dried Jack and put him into a clean nightshirt, then settled him back in his bed, stroking his forehead. ‘Go to sleep now, dearest.’

Jack sucked his thumb and closed his eyes. Emily smiled. He wasn’t coughing so much, so perhaps it had been just a little chill after all.

As she turned to leave him, she heard another cry and stiffened as it was followed by a man’s laugh. Of course! She might have known. Ma had taken the travelling salesman to her room and Emily could guess what was going on inside. She felt a rush of anger and was tempted to go storming in, but common sense told her there was no point in having a row at this hour. Rather than confront Ma in an embarrassing situation, she would speak to her privately in the morning.

She went down the stairs to the pub, deliberately letting the door marked Private bang behind her in the hope of giving them a fright. Emily was disgusted with her mother’s behaviour. How could she value herself so little that she was willing to give herself to a man for a pair of silk stockings or a pretty petticoat?

Returning to the busy bar, Emily controlled her disgust and her anger. She hadn’t come here for Ma’s sake but for the child. She wasn’t the keeper of her mother’s morals, but if Ma wanted to sleep with her salesman, she could do so in her own time – not when there was a pub full of thirsty customers!

‘I’m taking Jack to the doctor,’ Emily said the next morning. ‘I thought his fever had gone, but he’s burning up and crying so he needs to see the doctor.’

‘What about the bar food and the washing up?’

‘You can do the clearing up for once,’ Emily shot over her shoulder as she picked Jack up, wrapping him in a blanket. ‘I’ll do the food when I get back. If you’d been around more last night I would have done the clearing up then but I was on my feet the whole night.’

‘I had a headache,’ Ma said sourly. ‘You fuss over that brat all the time but you never spare a thought for me.’

‘Ian Smith rubbed your neck for you, did he?’ Emily gave her a look that made Ma’s cheeks go bright red. ‘Oh yes, I know he was in your room last night. I heard you when I went to check on Jack. Do what you want in your own time, Ma – but just remember our arrangement. I don’t mind doing most of the work but unless you do your share I’ll walk out and take Jack with me. I could get a job with fewer hours anywhere …’

With that parting shot, Emily left. She was too anxious for her brother to worry much about what Ma thought of her threat to leave and take Jack with her. It wasn’t really an option, because she didn’t have anywhere to go – except back to her cottage. Sir Arthur had told her there would always be a home for her on his estate if she needed it, but Emily would rather not have to go back. It was true that she could find work easily, but she would need to find someone to look after her brother, and that might be expensive. Yet if need be she would do it, though she hoped the threat would be sufficient to bring Ma to her senses. All Emily asked was that she did her share of the work, especially when they were rushed off their feet.

Jack was coughing again and his skin felt hot to the touch. Emily forgot about Ma as she walked quickly towards the doctor’s surgery. She wasn’t certain but she thought that Jack might have a rash coming on his legs. He did get a little rash sometimes when he was wet, but Emily had kept him mostly dry recently and she was really worried this time.

There had been a queue at the doctor’s surgery. Emily had taken her seat, moving up one each time someone was called in. She had to wait well over an hour and a half before her time came and by then Jack was whimpering and crying, his skin very hot.

‘I think he’s really ill … there’s this rash on his legs …’

The doctor uncovered Jack’s legs and frowned. He looked at his arms and then the rest of his body and shook his head. ‘I’m not sure it’s anything to worry about, Mrs Johnson. Children have a lot of these rashes and fevers. I’ll give you a cooling lotion and a mixture to ease the fever. Take him home, put him to bed and keep an eye on him. If he gets much worse have someone fetch me – or get someone to telephone me. I shall be here for most of the day at the surgery unless I’m called out on an emergency. If I’m not available and you’re worried call an ambulance and go to the hospital with him.’

Emily thanked him, paid for the medicines the doctor gave her and left. Jack seemed better again out in the open air and she kissed his forehead, which was a little damp. She would put some of the balm on his legs when she got home and give him a measure of the doctor’s medicine.

She was home before the pub opened. Glancing in the kitchen, she saw that the washing up had not been touched. Ma hadn’t even wiped a single one of the tables down. Feeling her anger rise, Emily carried her little brother upstairs and put him on the bed. She took his clothes off, smoothed ointment over his body and dressed him in a clean shirt, leaving his legs free to the air. Then she poured a spoonful of the mixture and got him to swallow it. She sat stroking his head for a moment and he seemed calmer, as if he would sleep.

Emily left him and turned towards the stairs, then changed her mind and returned to Ma’s room. It was time they sorted things out. Opening the door, she went inside and then stopped in dismay. Every drawer of the chest was open and Ma’s things were hanging out. Her wardrobe door was open and empty apart from a couple of very old dresses. All the bits and pieces from her dressing table were gone.

A chilling thought entered Emily’s mind. Ma had gone off and left them … but she only had a few pounds in her purse. A nerve jangled at the back of Emily’s neck. She wrenched open the door to her own room and looked inside. Ma had been here too. She’d been through Emily’s drawers and her wardrobe – and she’d broken into the locked cupboard where Emily stored her treasures. Feeling sick, Emily went to investigate. Every one of the silver items Christopher had given her was gone. The ring box containing his engagement ring was also missing and so was the beautiful enamelled compact Pa had given Emily.

It was that last that made the tears well up in Emily’s eyes. Ma had stolen everything she knew to be of value, leaving anything damaged or chipped behind but taking the rest. Even Emily’s purse was empty of all but a few coppers. Yet it was the compact that left a hollow feeling inside her.