Polly's Story (2 page)

After a couple of interesting excursions into some sort of pantry and a boot room, I opened another door in the passage and half-stumbled, half-fell down a shallow step into the largest kitchen I had ever seen. A rush of hot air hit me in the face, rich with the smells of frying bacon, freshly-baked bread, toast and coffee. Steam rose up from saucepans bubbling away on the huge black range, and there were more gleaming copper pans hanging on the wall opposite. Three or four kitchenmaids were hard at work: one slicing bread, another whirling round the handle of an egg whisk as if her life depended on it, another heaping kippers on a silver salver. Standing amongst them at the vast oak table in the middle of the room was a red-faced, broad-shouldered woman with a knife in one hand, whom I took to be the cook. She stared at me in astonishment.

‘And to what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?’ she shouted above the hustle and bustle, upon which the girls all stopped what they were doing to stare at me too. ‘Who might you be, young lady?’

‘I’m the new housemaid, ma’am,’ I said, trying to pick up my basket and curtsey at the same time.

‘Then what are you doing here?’ she interrupted, before I could say any more. ‘Some sort of half-wit, are you? Take a look around and tell me where you think this is.’

‘The kitchen, ma’am,’ I began, noticing that the girls had started smiling at me and whispering amongst themselves in a rather unpleasant way, ‘but I don’t know - ’

‘Yes, the kitchen!’ she boomed. ‘And we are in the middle of preparing breakfast. So, out! Get out right this minute and don’t come bothering us again if you know what’s good for you.’ And she made as if to throw the knife at my head!

Well, I took up my basket pretty sharpish and out I went, my face burning and all sorts of feelings welling up inside me. Now I was embarrassed and ashamed, as well as nervous - and quite indignant too. There was no call to speak to me like that! The more I thought about it, the angrier I became, until I found myself marching down the corridor in a proper temper (and still no idea whatsoever as to where I should be going).

‘Steady on! Where are you off to in such a hurry?’

I found myself glaring up at a tall young man in a dark uniform with brass buttons, carrying a silver tray. I had walked straight into one of the footmen, though I was far too cross to think about apologising. ‘I am the new housemaid,’ I said again, my voice rising, ‘and I am trying to find the housekeeper’s room and no one will tell me where it is!’

‘Well, I will. It’s no secret,’ he said, smiling. ‘In fact, I can take you there if you like.’

All of a sudden, the anger went straight out of me. ‘Thank you,’ I said, feeling as though I could sit down right there and then and burst into tears. ‘I went into the kitchen by mistake and the cook made as if to throw a knife at me.’

‘Ah, so you have met Mrs Bragg,’ he said, smiling even more broadly. ‘Now there is no need to worry yourself about her. She is a very bad shot. That is why all those pans are hanging on the wall, you see: target practice. She hasn’t managed to hit one yet.’

I could not help but laugh at this, even though I was having to sniff quite hard at the same time so as not to cry. The young man kindly lent me a handkerchief and waited for a few moments whilst I composed myself, and then we went off to find the housekeeper’s room. I could hardly believe myself, walking along the corridor bold as brass with a footman - powdered hair, smart livery and all! (Even though he was being so friendly and obliging.) He told me his name was William, and I told him my name was Polly, and then we were at Mrs Henderson’s door and he had gone away before I could properly thank him. I took a couple of deep breaths to steady my nerves, knocked on the door and waited to be admitted.

Mrs Henderson was sitting behind her desk, dressed all in black with a bunch of keys hanging at her waist, and just as fearsome as I remembered from my interview: ramrod straight and dignified, with watery pale eyes and iron grey hair scraped back under her cap. After looking me up and down for a few moments without speaking, at last she said in a brisk, clipped sort of voice - and I can hardly bear to recall her words, even now - ‘Whatever have you got yourself dressed up in, girl? You can’t go about like something out of the circus! Do you not have anything more suitable to wear?’

At first I could only stand there, gawping like a fish. Could she really be talking about my wonderful frock? I stared down at it, automatically smoothing the fabric, then back into Mrs Henderson’s cold eyes. And all of a sudden, I saw myself reflected there as she must have seen me - a silly young girl in a garish outfit that had probably only ever been fashionable years ago - and blushed again to the roots of my hair. To have gone so wrong before I even started work! It was awful.

‘I have my black uniform frock,’ I stammered, ‘only I should not like to get it dirty.’ This was the only other outfit I possessed.

‘Oh, never mind,’ she muttered. ‘I suppose that will have to do for this morning, with a decent apron over it. We can find you something else by tomorrow. When is your box arriving?’

I had no box; everything I owned in the world was in that wicker basket. But I did not want to admit this to the housekeeper and have her thinking I was one step away from the workhouse, so I told her it would be arriving by train later on in the week. With any luck, she would forget about it.

Mrs Henderson nodded and reached up to ring a bell on the wall by the side of her desk. ‘Mary is the head housemaid here. She will show you up to your room and you can put away your things. Servants’ breakfast is at eight o’clock sharp, and as the most junior housemaid you will wait on the others and help clear the table. After household prayers you will clean the female servants’ quarters, and then work with the other maids in the family bedrooms …’

She rattled through my duties while I tried desperately to keep up. My head was soon spinning with so many instructions that I despaired of ever being able to remember them all, but I was presented with a written work timetable to keep in my apron pocket, together with two frilled caps. Then Mary appeared - tall and thin, with a harassed expression and the habit of chewing her lip - to hurry me off down another long corridor and up endless flights of stairs. I followed behind her, trying to take note of every turn we took so that I would not get lost on the way back down.

‘You will share a washstand and have two drawers of the chest for yourself,’ Mary told me, all out of breath as she threw open the door to the attic room in which I was to sleep. ‘That is your bed, over by the window. What have you brought with you?’

‘My black uniform dress and two aprons,’ I said. ‘And black button boots.’ They were my mother’s best pair; goodness only knew how she would manage without them. ‘Mrs Henderson gave me my caps.’

‘Your hair needs some attention too,’ Mary said, looking critically at me. ‘Now put your things away, make your bed, and I’ll see you downstairs in the servants’ hall in ten minutes. Look lively, girl, for heaven’s sake! There’s plenty to be done.’

After I had made my bed, I sat down on it for a second and looked around. It was a large room, rather dark and dreary, with a strip of threadbare carpet running along one side of the floor in front of the two heavy chests of drawers. Apart from these, the rest of the furniture consisted of a couple of washstands with china bowls sitting on them and four iron bedsteads with a wooden chair next to each one. I could see a fireplace, but it didn’t seem much used; there was no coal scuttle next to it and no sign of any ashes. Draughts rose up from the loose-fitting floorboards which creaked under my feet, and the window rattled in its frame when the wind blew hard outside. We had a lovely view, though: out across the lake to a patchwork of fields and hedgerows beyond. I knew that Lord Vye owned a great stretch of land in this corner of Kent, right down to the coast about fifteen miles away. Screwing up my eyes, I tried to catch a glimpse of the sea, but the only sign of it was a stray gull that had been blown inland, wheeling above the trees and calling out in the melancholy way those birds have.

A small mirror hung on the wall above the washstand, so I went over to brush my hair and pin it back up, with one of the caps perched on top. Mother always says my hair is my best feature: there is plenty of it, at least! But it is an unremarkable brown, as are my eyes. My complexion only has to see the sun to turn brown too, and I have always been tall for my age, with long arms and legs and a strong back - just as well, when it comes to making beds. And that is all I can think of to say about my appearance; except that our neighbour, Mrs Grimshaw, once told my mother that her ugly duckling looked like turning into a swan. I didn’t know quite what to make of this but, as Mother said, Mrs Grimshaw is so old and short-sighted there was no point in taking offence.

I looked at the three other beds and wondered about the girls who would be sharing with me that night. Would I find a friend among them? Despite my resolution to make the best of things, I couldn’t help feeling that my new life had not got off to a very promising start.

Two

Always move quietly about the house, and do not let your voice be heard by the family unless necessary. Never sing or whistle at your work where the family would be likely to hear you. Do not call out from one room to another; and if you are a housemaid, be careful not only to do your work quietly, but to keep out of sight as much as possible.

From
Rules for the Manners of Servants in Good Families,
1901

I managed not to lose myself on the way back down to the servants’ hall and was standing next to Mary by the time the gong sounded for breakfast, ready to hand around cups of tea and plates of cold ham which the under butler was waiting to carve. What a great number of people came rushing in to take their places at the long scrubbed table! Thank goodness the upper servants were being served a separate meal in Mrs Henderson’s room; it was enough for me to deal with the other maids and the footmen, so tall and grand in their tailcoats. I caught sight of William but did not feel able to say hello to him, as all the menservants were sitting on the opposite side of the table to the housemaids and there didn’t seem to be much conversation between the two parties. When I handed him his tea, however, he winked at me in a very encouraging way, which raised my spirits no end.

At last everyone had been served and I could take my place at the end of the table, next to a pretty girl with dark curly hair and grey eyes. ‘So you are the new housemaid,’ she said, looking me up and down. ‘How do you do? My name is Jemima Newgate, and Mary has paired me with you, for my sins. We shall be cleaning the servants’ quarters together.’ She gave me another cool glance. ‘I hope you are prepared to do some work today, despite those fancy clothes.’

‘I am quite used to hard work,’ I said, stumbling over the words. ‘My name is Polly, or Olive. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sure we shall get along.’

‘Are you, Polly or Olive?’ she said, and laughed in a way which made me feel even more uncomfortable. ‘Well, that is good to know. You’d better be a quick learner, is all I can say, or we really shall be in trouble.’

‘Oh, Jemima! Don’t be so contrary.’ A fair-haired girl had just hurried into the servants’ hall and taken the seat on her other side. She leaned forward to smile at me. ‘You are quite right - we are all going to get along together very well indeed. My name is Iris. You will not have so much to do with me, because I am the still-room maid, but we shall be sharing a room together. You, Jemima and myself, and Becky,’ and she pointed out another girl sitting further down the table. ‘You cannot possibly snore as loudly as the poor creature who had your bed before, so we are all very pleased to see you.’

I smiled back and went to fetch her a cup of tea; at least there was one person who seemed to know how I felt and wanted to put me at my ease. Sadly breakfast with Iris was over all too soon and then it was time for my next ordeal: prayers for the whole household in the chapel. The upper servants reappeared and we lined up in order of importance behind the butler (Mr Goddard was his name, I discovered later), who led the way along the passage and through the green baize door into the front of the house. This was the first time I had been beyond the servants’ quarters, and I could hardly believe my eyes. It was like stepping through into another world. On one side were bare wooden floorboards and rough plaster walls; on the other, acres of smooth marble and thick rugs under foot. There were marble statues staring down at me from alcoves all along the hall, and a painted ceiling soared high up above my head. I had thought that the vicarage was very grand when I started working there, but you could have fitted the whole of that house into one little corner of the Hall without falling over it.

The chapel made me feel even more of a timid country mouse. It was such a solemn, quiet place, with the light falling softly through tall stained-glass windows and pictures of suffering saints and martyrs everywhere you looked. How Miss Conway would have loved it! Not a particularly large room but twice normal height, with a gallery upstairs for the family so they could look down on the pews where we sat. I couldn’t resist taking a peek at the Vyes, whom I had not yet seen. The present Lord Vye had five children; four with his first wife (who had died after giving birth to their last daughter) and one son from his second marriage. The two older boys, Master Edward and Master Rory, were young men now and living away from home, so the only children at the Hall were the two daughters, Miss Eugenie and Miss Harriet, and their little half-brother, Master John, who was seven. I did not dare glance up at the gallery during prayers, but when I could tell from the noise of chairs being scraped back that the family were about to leave, I threw caution to the winds and took a quick peep.