Poor Little Rich Girl

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

For Chris (née Stiffell) and Roy Smith
a very belated wedding present,
wishing you both every happiness

I am most grateful to Fr. Victor Walter of St Mary’s Cathedral, Wrexham for pointing me in the right direction to discover what life was like in India in the 1930s and I am also grateful to Deb Macleod of Pritchard’s Bookshops (in Formby and Crosby) for getting me the books I needed most. As usual I am indebted to the staff of the Wrexham Library and the Central Libraries, Liverpool, for all their help.

Hester Elliott leaned over the rail of the
Pride of India
and reflected that so far, she and young Leonora Hetherington-Smith had been fortunate. This was their first sea voyage and neither of them had felt ill once since leaving Bombay. Life on board ship, what was more, had been interesting enough to alleviate the boredom which might otherwise have attacked them, and, so far as she could judge, homesickness had not troubled them either.

Not, reflected Hester now, that she had a home in India any longer, for she could scarcely count the large house in which Mr Hetherington-Smith held sway. After her father’s death some three months previously, Mr Hetherington-Smith had approached Hester, the child of his best friend, and suggested that unless she had other plans, she might move into his house and begin to get to know his small daughter. He had explained that he meant to send Lonnie home to Liverpool in England, to live with an aunt, and he would like Hester to take charge of her.

Hester had known that her father, Trevor Elliott, had meant to accompany his only child to England one day. Her mother, Kia, who had died when Hester was ten, had been anxious that her daughter should return to their home country when she was an adult. ‘I am glad that your childhood has been spent in this beautiful country, that you have learned so much of the culture of the land of your birth, which would
have been denied you in England, but once you are grown I believe, and so does your father, that life will be better for you if you go Home,’ she had said.

Even now, the memory of that long-ago conversation made Hester smile. To be sure, her father was a native of Liverpool and had spent the first twenty-two years of his life in that city, but both she and her mother had been born and raised in India, had known no other home. Yet in common with all Anglo-Indians, they thought of England as ‘Home’ and indeed, when the heat of summer was at its height, Hester could understand their craving for a cooler, greener land, even though she only knew of it from books and the conversation of others.

The ship had docked at Alexandria after passing through the Suez Canal. Hester had been doubtful whether she should take young Lonnie ashore at a port famed for its vices, but Lonnie had had no such doubts. ‘I’m sick of being cooped up in this wretched ship; I will go ashore, I will, I will!’ she had announced, glaring at Hester as though the older girl was her most hated enemy. ‘I know you are my governess, but you are still a servant and you will do as I say!’

It had been the first serious rift between them, though Lonnie, like most English children brought up by an Indian
ayah
, was both spoiled and arrogant. She was used to getting her own way and never considered the feelings of others and though Hester, at eighteen, was only ten years Lonnie’s senior, she was beginning to realise that she would have to put her foot down and take command, or the younger girl would become impossible.

Accordingly, she had decided not to allow Lonnie to accompany the party going ashore at Alexandria
and had been surprised, and pleased, at the child’s eventual acceptance of her decree. Returning to the ship later that afternoon, however, her pleasure had fled on meeting Lonnie on the quayside with one of the deck hands. Lonnie was eating virulent pink sweets from a greasy paper bag and the boy – for he was little more – carried an armful of mixed fruit and had a delicate, transparent length of material, patterned in blue and green, around his neck.

Hester had borne down upon them full of wrath, only to be disarmed by the boy’s saying jovially: ‘Little miss here explained that she had missed you when you left the ship, when she lingered to watch the monkey dancing to the barrel-organ. So I said she might come along a-me to the bazaar and we’ve had a grand afternoon, haven’t we, missie?’

Naturally, Hester had said nothing to the boy, apart from thanking him for his kindness to her charge, but as soon as she got Lonnie to herself she had given her a fearful telling-off, warning her that such behaviour would not be tolerated either by herself or by her English aunt.

‘You had no right to leave me,’ Lonnie had said calmly, cutting across Hester’s diatribe long before it was finished. ‘If I were to tell my father that you went ashore and left me behind, he would have you whipped and thrown into a snake pit.’

Despite herself, Hester could not help laughing. ‘What a little liar you are,’ she had said. ‘Why, your father would agree that, as your governess, I have every right to punish you when you do wrong.’

‘Oh, punish!’ Lonnie said airily. They were in the cabin and she took her silver-backed hairbrush off the dressing table, untied her hair ribbon and began to brush her limp, light-brown locks. ‘Punishment is
giving me extra schoolwork, or making me miss a meal, or not speaking to me for a whole half hour. Not letting me go ashore was wicked and mean, and if you try it again …’

All Hester’s amusement fled. The child was actually daring to threaten her, yet she could see Lonnie’s point in some ways. The voyage was a long one and diversions such as a trip ashore rare enough. The
Pride of India
only made two landfalls, Alexandria being the first, and since there was little she could do about it if Lonnie decided to go off without her she had better devise a form of punishment which meant she could keep her eye on Lonnie at the same time. Thinking back to Mr Hetherington-Smith’s instructions, she seemed to remember that he had said she would be in charge of his daughter at all times until they reached Liverpool, when Miss Emmeline Hetherington-Smith would, presumably, share her duties. This obviously meant that, if she wished to go ashore, Lonnie must accompany her.

Having lived all her life in the East, however, Hester knew the value of saving face, knew that she must employ it now if she was ever to get anywhere with Lonnie. Accordingly, she said reprovingly: ‘Have you any idea of the dangers which surround one in a foreign port, Leonora? Have you never heard of the white slave trade? Some men would give a good deal of money to add an English girl to their harems, or to be able to boast of an English slave in their servants’ quarters. If you were shipped to somewhere like South America, your lot would be miserable indeed and your life short. Did you not think of that when you disobeyed my instructions and went ashore alone?’

‘Well, I did, because I’m not a fool,’ Lonnie said
scathingly. ‘Why do you think I made that silly young man take me to the bazaar? There was a nasty old man on the quayside who kept trying to persuade me to go with him. He said he had six beautiful white ponies and a granddaughter who looked just like me and he said we might ride the ponies and eat sweetmeats and have a wonderful time until the ship sailed.’

At the mention of the old man on the quayside, Hester had actually felt the hair on the back of her neck prickling erect and it seemed as though iced water trickled down her spine. It occurred to her that both she and Lonnie had had a very narrow escape, for how would she have explained to Mr Hetherington-Smith and his sister that she had lost Miss Leonora whilst ashore in Alexandria? So instead of scolding Lonnie any further, she had given her a big hug and assured her charge that she would not leave her again.

That evening, when Lonnie was asleep, Hester had considered her position anew. Her employer had paid her first-class passage on the ship and had told her that though she would be answerable to his sister, it would be himself who would be paying her salary. ‘My sister is a good deal older than me and somewhat set in her ways, so I have written to her, explaining that I wish you to continue in my employ until such time as my daughter no longer needs you,’ he had said. ‘However, I have been forced to practise a small deception to make this acceptable to Miss Hetherington-Smith. In short, my dear Hester, I have told her not only that you are the child of my dearest friend, but that you are twenty-four years old, and are experienced in dealing with small children. I fear that if my sister knew the truth – that you are eighteen
and have never before been a governess – she would either persistently interfere with your treatment of Lonnie or dismiss you out of hand.’ He had smiled at Hester with real affection and understanding in his rather sad dark eyes. ‘So if you wouldn’t mind lending your support to this small deception, I should be most grateful, for I love my daughter and would feel a good deal happier knowing that she is in the charge of someone I trust, rather than at the mercy of an English servant who might not take to her.’

Remembering the trust that Mr Hetherington-Smith had placed in her, Hester had tried to persuade Lonnie gently to do as she wished, avoiding direct conflict. When the ship docked in Gibraltar, the two of them had gone ashore with a party of other passengers and Lonnie had behaved beautifully. At Hester’s suggestion, she had used some of her own money to buy her aunt a china vase, delicately hand-painted with exotic birds whose brilliant feathers were a source of considerable pleasure to Lonnie.

Hester had helped her to pack the vase in soft blue tissue paper and then to place it in a white cardboard box, and until now had not doubted that it would reach Liverpool in pristine condition. Now, surveying the heaving waves under her nose, Hester noticed for the first time how the sea was losing its blue-green brilliance as they left the Mediterranean behind them and headed out into the Atlantic. She watched the waves beneath her, realising that the gentle surge had become a turbulent grey sea, with white-topped combers coming at the ship from all directions, so that she began to pitch and toss. The gentle breeze of the Mediterranean had given way to a cold and blustery wind. Every now and then, a particularly violent gust whipped a fine spray into
her face and she was rather enjoying the experience when she remembered that Lonnie was by herself in the cabin, painting a picture of Gibraltar, complete with the apes which they had visited during their short stay. The child might be frightened by the sudden change in the weather, Hester told herself, hurrying down the nearest companionway.

Entering the cabin, she saw at a glance that Lonnie was in no way perturbed by the violence of the elements, though she had one hand around her water pot. The other wielded her paintbrush, though the movement of the ship was causing a good deal of the paint to fly in unplanned directions, Hester noticed. ‘It’s a bit rough,’ Hester said cheerfully. ‘How’s the painting coming along? I’d suggest a stroll on deck, but I don’t suppose you would fancy a walk in such a wild wind.’

Lonnie looked up and slung her paintbrush down on the floor, then crossed to the small basin in one corner of the cabin and tipped her paint water away. ‘I do fancy a walk,’ she said, going over to the hanging cupboard and getting down her coat. She began to struggle into it, speaking as she did so. ‘Daddy has told me all about English weather, Miss Elliott, so I dare say it will be just like this in Liverpool. He seemed to think we might not like the cold much after India, but I’m sure we’ll enjoy it, because being too hot is horrid, isn’t it? And Liverpool is so beautiful, with all the parks and art galleries and lovely shops.’

All her life, Hester had been bombarded with stories about England, yet she realised that the reality might prove very different. According to Trevor Elliott – and obviously to Mr Hetherington-Smith also – Liverpool was the hub of the universe, the
most beautiful city in England and a centre of culture and trade. One or two of the sailors, on the other hand, had talked quite differently about their home. They had said it was a port like any other, full of inhabitants who would cheat you out of your last penny, shops whose goods were exorbitantly priced and wonderful markets where you could buy a hot meal for sixpence or get your pocket picked for free. Hester imagined that the truth was somewhere between the two, but she did not intend to disillusion Lonnie; time – and experience – would do that.

‘Right! Since you feel like blowing some cobwebs away, you’d better pass me my coat and we’ll go up together,’ Hester said gaily. ‘Twice round the deck is a mile and the last one back to the cabin is a sissy!’

The voyage through the Bay of Biscay was not too pleasant. A good many of the passengers on board suddenly disappeared from the dining saloon and the deck. They shut themselves in their cabins and kept the stewards busy, Hester told Lonnie when the child enquired as to the whereabouts of some of their new acquaintances.

‘I wonder why we don’t feel sick?’ Lonnie said idly on the following day, as the
Pride of India
continued to butt her way through the stormy seas. ‘After all, we’ve neither of us ever been on a ship before, have we, Miss Elliott?’

‘No, but I’ve travelled all over India with my father,’ Hester said. ‘Once or twice I’ve been aboard river boats for several days … and don’t you think that riding for a longish distance in a palanquin is rather like being at sea? I know you must have done that … and then there are elephants. They sway … I’ve known several people who were elephant sick.’

Lonnie giggled. ‘I think I just have a very strong stomach,’ she confided. ‘I don’t eat as much as some people, but what I do eat stays where it’s put. How near to Liverpool would you say we were now, Miss Elliott? Are you getting excited? I am, I can’t help it. My daddy talked such a lot about Liverpool and told me so many times all the things he had done there when he was a boy that I know I’ll be happy there.’ She turned to gaze solemnly at Hester. ‘Only Daddy said you’d stay with me whilst I and Aunt Emmeline needed you, but once I was settled in you might leave me and get a different sort of job somewhere else, or even go to relatives of your own. I don’t mind you leaving me, of course … after having to leave my dear
ayah
and my daddy, I suppose I’m used to leaving people … but I hope you won’t go
too
soon.’