The Sunday Girls (29 page)

I couldn’t understand this new side to the housekeeper but if, as Jean said, she was truly devoted to Mrs Barrie, then this would account for her distress.

I was on my hands and knees, polishing the lower shelves of a small corner cupboard when I spotted a small scrap of cardboard. Turning it over I discovered it was a sepia-toned photograph of a small child about Lily’s age. Because the child was dressed in a romper suit, I surmised it was a boy. He had large dark eyes, a mop of dark curls and lovely coffee-coloured skin. At least that was my first impression but I could be wrong, I thought. I could tell the photograph was quite old but there was no clue to the boy’s age or where the photo had been taken. Also, how it came to be lying on Mrs Barrie’s lounge carpet was another mystery. It was certainly lying near the spot where Miss Hood had been sitting weeping but, apart from that, there was nothing to associate it with her.

Unsure what to do with it, I placed it back where I found it and scuttled to the other side of the room. And, as it turned out, it was not a moment too soon. The door suddenly flew open and the housekeeper almost jumped in, so agitated was she. Her eyes swept over to the window then back to me.

‘Have you finished in here?’ she snapped, sounding like the old Miss Hood I knew.

I decided to tell a white lie as I was still unsure about the photograph. ‘I’ve just started here Miss Hood and I still have the furniture to polish over by the window.’

She looked so relieved and her old face coloured slightly. ‘Just finish off now. Mrs Peters wants you in the kitchen – for a cup of tea and something to eat.’ She didn’t look at me as she spoke. Her eyes were fixed firmly on the spot where the small piece of cardboard lay.

Meanwhile I almost fell over in shock. I had been at Whitegate Lodge for a long time now and never once had she mentioned stopping work for a cup of tea, let alone something to eat. It was obvious she wanted me out of the lounge and the only reason must be the photo.

Jean was surprised to see me. She was elbow deep in soapy suds in the large sink, washing the huge soup pot in readiness for a new lot to be made. Like Granny, she always made enough for at least a week.

She glanced anxiously at the kitchen clock ‘Is it time for our tea break already?’ When she saw the time, she shook her head. ‘No, it’s too early.’

I passed on the housekeeper’s message and Jean’s eyes widened in amazement. ‘Miss Hood said that I was looking for you?’ She shook her head again. ‘I think the woman’s going off her head. It must be because of Mrs Barrie’s illness. Maybe Miss Hood thinks her days here are numbered – and ours as well.’

I was suddenly worried. ‘Oh, I never thought of it like that. I just thought Mrs Barrie had a wee dose of the flu and that she would soon get better.’ Although I didn’t want to admit it, a cold feeling settled in my stomach and I was worried I would lose my job.

Jean smiled. ‘Och, don’t worry, Ann. Mrs Barrie has had bouts of illness before and she’s always got over it. After all, she has the best of medical help. What that doctor charges would keep a family of four for a month and that’s just for his visits. The medicine costs extra.’

Reassured, I said, ‘Well, if you don’t want me for anything, I’ll get back to my work.’

She nodded. ‘We’ll have our cuppie after I get the soup on.’ She returned to the mountain of suds that now threatened to erupt as far as the window.

I returned to the lounge, feeling apprehensive but there was no sign of Miss Hood or the photograph. I had just returned to my polishing position at the window when the door opened and she came in, followed by the doctor. His bloodhound face was serious and Miss Hood’s hands were shaking. Her face looked as if it had shrunk several sizes and I suddenly noticed her neck and how thin and wrinkled it was. Then I realised she wasn’t wearing one of her usual high-necked blouses nor did she have on one of her many and varied scarves which she usually draped around her throat. Worry and grief had not improved her appearance but the snooty, arrogant look was also missing. In spite of her previous malice towards me, I suddenly felt so sorry for her. She was no longer a dragon but merely an old woman.

She ushered the doctor to one of the comfy chairs. Rubbing her hands together as if cold, she put a match to the fire which was already laid in the grate and soon flames danced up the chimney.

‘Sit down, Doctor Little, I’ll get the housemaid to bring us some tea.’ She turned to me. ‘Please bring a tea tray for two in here, Ann.’

I almost fell over in surprise on hearing my name mentioned. In all my time in the house, never once had she referred to me by name. Things were definitely improving but what a pity if it was all to end should Mrs Barrie not recover.

As Jean busied herself with the teapot, I mentioned this change in the housekeeper and she seemed equally nonplussed by it.

‘Oh, well, I suppose people do change their habits but it seems so unlikely with Miss Hood. Still we must be grateful for any change in her,’ she laughed as she placed a small selection of home-made biscuits on a doily-covered plate. As always, I was unable to understand all the niceties of a well-heeled house. Biscuits were a luxury in our house but, should we manage to buy the occasional half pound of broken biscuits which usually cost a lot less than perfect ones, then they normally stayed in the brown paper bag or in an old bashed tin that Granny had owned for years. I had never even seen a doily till I came to work here.

My mind drifted back from this display of etiquette. ‘The doctor’s face looked serious, Jean,’ I said. ‘I do hope it’s not bad news.’ Cold fear still fluttered around my body – almost as if ice was circulating instead of blood.

Jean shook her head again. ‘No, she’ll be all right. I’ve seen her worse than this and she’s recovered.’

When I entered the lounge, the doctor was speaking. ‘Mrs Barrie is quite a strong lady in spite of her frail appearance. You know that better than anyone, Miss Hood. Still, that being said, the next few days will be crucial. Keep her warm and give her lots of liquids and I’ll come back this afternoon.’

As I placed the tray on the low table by the now blazing fire, I couldn’t help feeling surprised again by the sound of his voice. Perhaps because he resembled a bloodhound, I had expected him to have a deep growling timbre to his voice but it was quite high pitched and soft. It was also extremely cultured and posh sounding.

Later that morning, all the thoughts of doilies and doctors’ voices were swept from my mind by the sudden realisation that this was bang in the middle of the month. My little arrangement with Mrs Barrie regarding my wages had gone on month after month with no hiccups. She paid me every week and I reimbursed her on pay day at the end of the month. Now, because of her grave illness, she wouldn’t be able to see me, let alone pay me. I wondered briefly if the new-look Miss Hood would now be sympathetic to my plight but there was nothing I could do until her day off. Maybe I could approach her just prior to her departure.

I also remembered that I hadn’t mentioned the photograph to Jean but, on reflection and without any good reason, I decided to stay silent.

Over the next few days, an uneasy calm settled on the house. Miss Hood rarely put in an appearance except to pick up hot drinks and the tray with small, delicious portions of light food and equally tiny plates of pudding. Without exception, every tray came back with the food uneaten. We were even loath to put the wireless on. Jean liked the Light Programme with its cheery mix of comedy and music. Even Miss Hood’s little wireless set, which she kept in her room, was silent.

I began to miss all the homely sounds – even the serious voices that wafted from the housekeeper’s room. Being a devotee of the Home Service, Miss Hood liked to listen to some weighty debate or a serious-sounding play. I had become used to hearing snatches from it as I placed the hot-water bottles in both their rooms every night. Now even that small job was taken over by the housekeeper.

As Saturday approached, Mrs Barrie was still quite ill and still confined to her bed. The doctor spent so much time at the house that he almost became part of the household. I was forever taking trays to the lounge.

Every day I rehearsed my speech which I intended to deliver to Miss Hood on her departure. Perhaps, if I caught her at the right time and in the right frame of mind, she would give me my money. I was almost sick with worry, so much so that Jean noticed my agitation. I was reluctant to discuss my finances with her as I knew she would offer to help out and I didn’t want that.

Although she hadn’t said a lot about it, from small snippets of conversation, I guessed her husband Will was finding it difficult to get work. People who needed small joinery jobs doing were holding off and even the small businesses that were his main source of income were also putting their repairs on hold. In fact, the other day, she had said as much. She sat at the table, her hands encircling a cup of tea. ‘You know, Ann, this is a good job and it’s the best-paid position I’ve ever had. Still, we’ve put some savings aside for a rainy day but I’m hoping the sunny days are still here.’

I almost blurted out my own worries but then decided to say nothing. Perhaps it was the unfamiliar quiet hush, the deathly calm which had descended over us since Mrs Barrie’s illness, that made me hold my tongue. After all, we all had worries on our minds.

On Saturday morning, I fully expected Miss Hood to appear in one of her nauseating costumes but to my astonishment she appeared in the kitchen, dressed in an old skirt and an equally ancient-looking cardigan. Her thin legs were stockingless and her feet were thrust into her checked slippers. I had never, in all my time at the house, seen her dressed in such a slapdash manner.

She was carrying her purse and a slip of paper. ‘Go down to chemist for me. I won’t be taking my days off this week – not while Mrs Barrie is still ill.’ She handed over the list and half a crown.

Jean pursed her lips and frowned. ‘Ann and I will stay on as well. We will also work our time off …’

Before she could finish, Miss Hood turned sharply and snapped, ‘That won’t be necessary – I’ll look after the mistress.’

As I ran upstairs towards my room, I was filled with dismay, not only at the thought of having the housekeeper’s company for the next day and a half but also the apparent return of her snappy and arrogant manner.

Although it was the month of March, spring had failed to arrive and thin flakes of snow drifted down on a bitterly cold east wind. Even the windows shook in its blast. Without thinking, I grabbed my treasured coat and wrapped it around me. It wasn’t until the return journey that I realised my foolishness. After months of subterfuge, of dodging past the housekeeper with my bag, I had undone all the good work with a moment’s stupidity.

As I approached the house, I wondered if her prying eyes were watching me. I gazed up at the shining windows, certain that no one was standing there but should she notice me, would I see her standing behind the thick curtains? I wondered.

The pavement was slippy and I had to watch my step but, in spite of that, I tried to walk as quickly as I could in order to reach the sanctuary of my room. With my breath escaping in white icy puffs, I ran as hard as I could towards the back door. I was just below Mrs Barrie’s window when I caught a small movement of the curtains. I stopped dead, my heart pounding so hard that I was sure it must be heard in the house. But there was no other movement – just a flurry of snowflakes that brushed the glass with a silent kiss. I ran quickly to the door, giving a sigh of relief. I had obviously imagined that small movement. But, if she had seen me, well, I knew I was in for a severe quizzing.

There was no sign of her inside the house. The house was so quiet that the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall sounded loud. I headed towards my room with my coat before delivering my errand and my heart sank when I realised she was inside Mrs Barrie’s bedroom.

I knocked. ‘It’s me, Miss Hood. I’ve got your message from the chemist.’

She opened the door and I braced myself for her furious onslaught but she merely held out her hand for the small parcel and the change. Behind her, I saw Mrs Barrie lying propped up on her enormous pillows, her face was white – almost the same colour as the pillowcases. But her eyes were bright and she held up a wizened hand, almost as if she was waving to me and her mouth moved soundlessly.

‘Is Mrs Barrie feeling better?’ I asked, still peering over Miss Hood’s shoulder.

She moved out into the hall, closing the door behind her. ‘That is none of your business but, if you must know, yes, she is making a good recovery. In fact, I’m reading to her at the moment.’ She sounded smug.

I had noticed the paperback on the eiderdown but, as to the author, I hadn’t a clue. I hoped it was one of Mrs Barrie’s favourite detectives. I was torn between annoyance at her waspish manner and relief that she hadn’t spotted my coat.

I told Jean about my narrow escape. ‘Just think what she would have done if she had seen me.’

The cook dismissed my worry. ‘Look, Ann, you’ve had that coat for months now. Miss Hood will never remember every item in Mrs Barrie’s wardrobe and you could have bought your coat from McGill’s and paid it up weekly. She’s not to know that.’

I relaxed. ‘Of course, you’re right, Jean. I could have owned it for years and even brought it with me when I started here.’

The doctor paid another call just before Jean and I left for our time off. I was on tenterhooks and hanging around the hall, trying to pluck up the courage to ask for my wages.

When the doctor and Miss Hood both descended the staircase, the doctor seemed more cheerful – not boisterously so but a small smile was visible on his fleshy lips.

‘Yes, I think we can safely say that our patient is on the mend. Although it will take her a while to regain her strength, she’s over the worst. I’ll bring a good tonic for her later today.’

When Miss Hood saw me, she froze slightly, the same old expression on her face. ‘Well, what do you want?’

Suddenly my well-rehearsed speech deserted me and I stuttered, ‘I’ve been waiting … waiting to … to … bring in the tea.’ I hated myself for stammering but her transformation from a distressed old woman to her usual old dragon personality left me tongue-tied.