Cinderella Sister (31 page)

‘Tradesmen’s entrance is round the back,’ Prissy said, banging the door against his boot.

‘I ain’t going round nowhere,’ the man roared. ‘I’m sick of being fobbed off by the cook. I wants to see the master of the house, or the missis.’

‘They’re out.’ Prissy tried again to close the door but this time it was blocked by a muscular arm.

‘I wants me money and I ain’t going nowhere until I’m paid in full. Three months’ meat and game I’ve supplied, and not got a penny piece in payment.’

‘That ain’t my problem,’ Prissy insisted. ‘Go round the back like I said.’

Lily could see that this was going nowhere and she nudged Prissy out of the way. ‘Can I help, mister? Surely there’s been some mistake?’

The man’s face flushed to the colour of the brickwork on the exterior of the house. ‘Mistake? I’ll say there’s been a mistake. It was not paying Jeb Colley, that’s the mistake. I want me rightful dues.’

‘I’m sure it’s an oversight,’ Lily said, attempting a smile to hide the fact that she was a little scared of him. ‘And they are out at present. If you’d like to call back later …’

‘You don’t get me with that ’un. I’m too long in the tooth to fall for that tale. I ain’t budging from this spot until I get all or part of the money owing.’ He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorpost, his florid countenance ill-matched by ginger mutton chop whiskers and a quivering moustache.

Lily thought quickly. She had five and three in her purse, which Gabriel had insisted she kept in case of emergencies. ‘How much, mister?’

‘Ten pound four and sevenpence three farthings. Not a penny more nor a penny less.’

It was a princely sum and Lily could hardly believe that anyone could spend that much on meat and game in a year, let alone in three months. ‘Surely not.’

‘’Tis true, miss. I can prove it in court if necessary, or I’ll take it in kind if you’ll let me in.’

‘Don’t listen to him, miss,’ Prissy cried, tugging at Lily’s hand. ‘Tell him to sling his hook. Don’t let him in whatever you do.’

‘I’m sorry but I don’t have that kind of money,’ Lily said, trying to sound firm but reasonable. ‘Please come back later. I’m sure that Mr Faulkner can sort this out.’

‘Not likely. I’m staying right here.’

‘Slam the door, miss,’ Prissy said urgently. ‘He’ll get fed up soon enough.’

‘I heard that,’ Jeb Colley shouted, moving his foot so that it was impossible to close the door without severing his lower limb.

Lily was at a complete loss now and growing desperate. A small crowd had gathered and Jeb was relating his story to them and receiving sympathetic acknowledgement that he had a just cause.

‘Send for the bailiffs,’ a man suggested.

‘Or a copper.’ The woman at his side shook her fist at Lily. ‘Toffs, they think they can do as they please and us poor folk have to suffer.’

Lily backed away. She had never been classed with
the toffs before and in this instance she resented the implication that she might have anything to do with the butcher’s dilemma. If she were to be honest, she was in complete sympathy with him should he be telling the truth. She turned to Prissy. ‘What shall I do?’

‘Stamp on his toes, miss. That works sometimes.’

‘Do you mean this has happened before?’

‘Many times, miss. I lost count.’

Lily was shocked. She could hardly believe that her mother or Everard would be party to what amounted to theft from honest working people, especially as they lived in such style. The silver alone must be worth a fortune, and if Ma’s jewels were real she could pay the butcher with ease. The situation was turning nasty and Lily was growing more anxious by the minute when a hackney carriage drew up, scattering the onlookers as they leapt to safety. The driver climbed down, shooing the rest of the bystanders out of the way as he helped Charlotte to alight. In her hands she held bandboxes bearing the names of large West End stores that Lily had heard of but had never visited: Derry and Toms, Peter Robinson and Lilley and Skinner.

‘Make way for the lady,’ the cabby said, gathering up even more packages from the interior of the cab.

Charlotte smiled and acknowledged the crowd as though they were an admiring group of art lovers. She mounted the steps, coming face to face with an angry Jeb Colley.

‘Excuse me, sir, but you are preventing me from entering my house.’

‘So it’s yours, is it, missis? Well then you can pay me what you owe.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, man. The tradesmen’s entrance is where you will be dealt with.’ Charlotte attempted to walk past him but Jeb caught her by the arm.

‘Not so fast, missis. If you got money to pay for them expensive duds then you can settle up with the likes of an honest hard-working butcher.’

‘I don’t carry cash on my person,’ Charlotte said haughtily. ‘Unhand me, sir, or I’ll be forced to send for a constable.’

‘You heard the lady,’ the cabby said belligerently. ‘Let her go, cully.’

‘Not until I get me money.’

Lily flung the door wide open. ‘Come inside, Ma. Don’t let him bully you.’

‘He won’t let me go.’ Charlotte’s lips trembled. ‘Do you think it brave to terrorise innocent women, sir?’

‘Innocent my foot. You got ten pound four and sevenpence three farthings’ worth of meat and game off me, and I want me money. If you can afford to go on a spending spree, then you can stump up the reddies.’

‘Let her go, you big brute.’ Prissy charged past Lily and butted the butcher in the stomach.

The air rushed out of his lungs in a loud bellow, raising a cheer from someone in the crowd. Jeb Colley released Charlotte’s arm as he doubled over, gasping for breath. Prissy seized the opportunity to yank her mistress unceremoniously over the threshold and Lily took the packages from the cabby. Doffing his cap to Charlotte he sauntered down the steps amidst boos
from the bystanders, who made it obvious that they resented his partisan attitude which they suspected had been secured by a generous tip from his erstwhile passenger.

Lily slammed the door before the butcher had time to recover. She leaned against it breathing heavily. ‘What was all that about, Ma? Do you really owe him that much money?’

Charlotte thrust her purchases into Prissy’s hands. ‘Take these to my room and unpack them, carefully. I don’t want any sticky fingerprints on my new gowns or my satin shoes, and if I find a bent feather on any of my hats you’ll be in trouble.’

‘Yes’m.’ Prissy bobbed a curtsey and hurried off as fast as she could when hampered by a pile of bandboxes and packages.

‘I need sustenance.’ Charlotte made her way to the morning parlour with Lily following close on her heels.

‘Ma, did you hear what I said?’

‘Darling, don’t bother your head with tradesmen,’ Charlotte said, flinging her mantle onto the nearest chair and snatching a decanter from the side table. She poured a large measure of brandy into a glass and drank deeply. ‘Pass me a cigarillo, darling girl. They’re in the silver box on my escritoire.’ She refreshed her drink and took another mouthful.

Lily eyed her in astonishment. She had never seen a woman toss back alcohol in such a practised manner. She gazed helplessly round the room, wondering what an escritoire might be when it was at home, but a silver box gleamed at her from the top of what appeared to
be a small desk. She fetched it obediently and handed it to her mother, watching in awe as Charlotte flicked it open and selected a small black cigar which she lit with a spill from the fire. Inhaling deeply and then exhaling with a satisfied sigh, she shot a challenging look at Lily. ‘What are you staring at? Haven’t you ever seen a woman smoke a cigarillo?’

‘No, Ma. I’m seeing and hearing things today that I never thought I’d witness.’

‘Oh, you mean the little man who sells meat. He’s of no account. Don’t worry your head about him.’ Charlotte drained the last drop of brandy in her glass and held it out to Lily with an appealing smile. ‘Pour me another, sweet child. Mama has had a frightful experience with that horrid little man.’

‘You owe him money, Ma. He has to make a living like the rest of us.’

‘You’ve a lot to learn, darling. Don’t be such a little bourgeoise.’

‘I dunno what that means, but today I was ashamed of you, and if that makes me one of them things, then I’m glad.’

Charlotte’s amused smile froze into an expression of contempt. ‘You are your father’s daughter after all. I can see the Larkin common streak coming out. And I thought you were pure Delamare.’ She hurled the glass at Lily’s head but it missed and shattered harmlessly against the wall in a glittering shower of crystal shards. ‘Get out of my sight,’ she screamed. ‘Go to your room. I can’t bear to look at you a moment longer.’

In her room Lily perched on the edge of her bed, shaken to the core by what had just occurred. The image she had long cherished of her mother had been dashed into pieces like the glass that had just been hurled at her with such venom. Her dreams of a loving gentle Madonna had been tarnished by the revelation of her mother’s attitude to the tradesman, who was only claiming what was due to him, even if he had gone about it in the wrong manner. And then, before her eyes, Ma had changed into a screaming vitriolic harpy filled with hatred for her own daughter. Lily had seen Matt in a temper and Grandpa was always cross about something, but Nell would never have behaved like that, and even Molly at her worst was more temperate. Lily jumped as someone tapped on her door.

‘Can I come in, miss?’ Prissy opened it a little way and peered at her with an anxious smile. ‘I brung you a cup of tea.’

This simple act of kindness brought tears to Lily’s eyes. She had been too shocked and angry to cry until now, but her lips trembled uncontrollably and Prissy hurried into the room. ‘Oh lawks, don’t cry, miss. You’ll start me off.’ She placed the cup on the washstand and flung herself down beside Lily, wrapping her arms
around her. ‘There, there, ducks. You’ll be all right. She’s a silly old besom. We heard the noise in the kitchen and Cook sent me up with the dustpan and brush. It ain’t the first time this has happened.’

Lily sniffed and wiped her eyes on Prissy’s apron. ‘It isn’t?’

‘Lawks no, miss. The mistress has often thrown a vase or something similar at the master when she’s having one of her tantrums. I’d like a tanner for every time I’ve cleared up the broken glass or china. It’s a wonder there are any ornaments left in the parlour.’

‘She hates me, Prissy.’

‘No she don’t, miss. That’s the brandy talking and that there stuff she sips from the brown bottle. She’s always having a crafty nip and sometimes it makes her happy and other times it makes her spiky as a holly leaf.’

‘What’s in that bottle? Is it medicine for some dreadful illness?’

Prissy threw back her head and laughed. ‘Heavens, miss. I thought I was the simple girl just up from the country. No, it’s laudanum. Cook says that both the master and the missis and most of their arty friends are into taking things that make them go a bit mad. If my sainted ma knew I’d come to a house where they smoke cigars and enjoy strong drink, not to mention the drug-taking, she’d be spinning in her grave like a top, poor soul.’

‘Does Mr Gabriel do these things?’ The question had left her lips before Lily had time to consider whether it was appropriate to interrogate a servant about family matters.

‘I don’t think so. Cook says that’s why he left home when he did. She’s got a lot of time for Mr Gabriel.’ Prissy slid off the bed and went to the washstand to retrieve the cup of tea. She handed it to Lily with an encouraging smile. ‘Here, drink this and it’ll make you feel better. I’ll fetch a jug of warm water and you can wash your face. You don’t want to go down to dinner looking as though you’ve been crying your eyes out, now do you?’

Lily sipped the tea. It was lukewarm but it was sweet and comforting. She managed a watery smile. ‘I think I’ll eat in my room. I don’t think I’ll be welcome downstairs.’

‘She’ll have forgotten all about it by the time she’s had a bath and changed into one of them fine gowns she’s just bought and not paid for.’

Prissy made to leave the room but Lily called her back. ‘Wait a moment, Prissy. What do you mean – not paid for?’

‘She’s got an account at all them big departmental stores up West. Don’t you know nothing, miss?’

‘Obviously not,’ Lily murmured as the door closed on Prissy. She sipped her tea. Why was life so complicated? Why was nothing as it seemed? She wished she could go to Nell and pour out her troubles, but Nell was as angry with her as Ma had been. Perhaps it was she herself who was at fault. Maybe she said and did the wrong things without knowing what she was doing. Lily shivered. The fire had burned down to glowing embers and the coal scuttle was empty. She raised herself to put the cup and saucer back on the washstand and
went to sit on the hearthrug, wrapping her arms around her knees. What she would do and where she would go were problems that loomed over her like thunderclouds. It was obvious that she could not remain here forever, nor could she go home. She did not even know where home was now, as the family might already have moved to the house that Armand had found them. A pang of regret speared her heart at the thought of the handsome Frenchman. She had long given up hope of anything romantic developing between them, but she still harboured tender feelings for him. She sighed, wishing that Gabriel had not gone off on his mysterious errand. She could do with his friendship now more than ever. Thinking about him now, and with the possibility that he had a sweetheart somewhere, only made her feel more lonely and alienated from all those for whom she cared. She closed her eyes and must have drifted off to an uneasy sleep as she was awakened by the door opening and Prissy staggering in with a bucket of coal in one hand and a jug of hot water in the other.

‘Get up off the floor, miss. I’ll get the fire going and then I’ll help you wash and dress for dinner.’

Reluctantly, Lily scrambled to her feet. ‘I told you, I don’t want to go downstairs. I’ll eat here in my room.’

‘Stuff and nonsense. You ain’t going to let them get you down, are you?’ Prissy set the bucket down in the hearth, and taking the jug to the washstand she filled the china bowl with warm water. ‘Where’s your fighting spirit, miss?’