Poor Little Rich Girl (11 page)

‘You did the right thing,’ Hester assured him, and watched whilst Lonnie swooped on the kitten, still playing on the hearthrug with Phyllis, and tucked her under her arm, assuring Phyllis, who was inclined to be tearful at the loss of her new friend, that she would bring Kitty back as soon as might be, indeed she would, and then Phyllis could play with her again. ‘And thank you very much, Ben, both for rescuing Lonnie and for coming to find me,’ Hester said. She turned to Mrs Bailey. ‘You’ve been so good to us both,’ she said warmly. ‘I can never thank you enough … and the rest of your family, too. I hope we’ll see you all again.’

‘You’ll be truly welcome, Miss Elliott,’ Mrs Bailey said, beaming. ‘Why, Mr Bailey was only saying t’other day that nowt would please him more than to hear you talk about your life in India, so when you’ve a bit o’time to spare …’ She accompanied the small group into the back yard, adding in a lowered tone as soon as they had left the kitchen: ‘As I’m sure
you could see, miss, me husband ain’t in the best of health. He don’t gerrout much no more, and though I does me best, he gets mortal tired of addressin’ envelopes, shut up in the house. It ’ud be doing us all a good turn if you and the young ’un came round now and then. He’s a good man, he don’t deserve wharr’s happened to him …’

Her voice died away and Hester hastily assured her that they would most definitely come back again. ‘Though how we shall find you I’m not quite sure,’ she admitted, as Dick held the back gate open for her. ‘We know the way to the park and the nearest tram stop, and of course we often walk up Heyworth Street to look at the shops, but other than that …’

‘I reckon Ben will be happy enough to bring you round,’ Dick interrupted before his mother could reply. ‘Or I could do so, weekends. Anyroad, from what young Ben said, you come the back way this time. I’ll tek you home by the main roads, then you won’t have no difficulty. Just remember that Elmore Street is off Heyworth Street and you’re home and dry.’

‘Of course it is,’ Hester said, remembering. ‘The fact is I got myself in a rare state, trying to follow Lonnie’s path through all those little side streets. I’m sure you’re right and I’ll find my way back easily, when I’m calmer.’ She turned to Mrs Bailey, smiling and holding out her hand. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Bailey, and thanks again.’

Mrs Bailey shook the proffered hand rather hesitantly, then she bent down and gave Lonnie a hug. ‘Don’t forget, you’ll always be welcome at Number 27,’ she said. ‘You and your kitten, of course. I’ll see there’s always a saucer o’ summat nice awaitin’ for Kitty, and a nice cup o’ tea for yourself.’

Once they were in the street again Lonnie stayed close to Hester, but chattered away to the kitten as though she did not much want to hear what her governess probably meant to say to her. She must have guessed, Hester supposed, that some explanation of her behaviour was due, as well as a promise that such a thing would not occur again. But very soon Hester was talking animatedly to Dick, telling him a little of her life in India. Compared to Lonnie, she was widely travelled, having accompanied her father around the enormous area over which he reigned as district officer. Their family dwelling had been in Delhi, however, and she thought of that city as her home. Describing the beauty and barbaric splendour of its many mosques, bazaars and palaces, she was forced to admit that it was a good deal more impressive than Liverpool. ‘But the climate is horrendous and the terrain flat as a pancake,’ she told him. ‘Rich people and most of the women and children go to the hills when the heat is at its worst, and stay there until the monsoons are over, but I stayed with my father all through the year. I can’t imagine ever grumbling about the temperature here in England!’

Dick, laughing, assured her that she would soon feel differently when the snows and winds of winter took over. ‘You’ll think back to India then and wish you’d never crossed the sea and settled in a land where half the year is freezing,’ he teased her. ‘Tell me more about the bazaars, they sound fascinating.’

Hester obliged, but she asked questions too. ‘What does a carpenter
do
aboard a ship?’ she enquired as they walked. ‘I know that Cammell Laird make ships – everyone knows that – but what do you actually
do? I thought they were made of steel, not wood, these days!’

Dick gave her his slow, attractive smile. ‘That’s a tall order,’ he said. ‘At the moment, we’re working on a five thousand ton cargo ship. She’s called
Clementine
and there’s no end of work for a good carpenter, only they call us joiners. Have you ever been aboard a ship when she’s being fitted out?’

Hester shook her head. ‘No. In fact I’ve only been aboard a sea-going ship once in my whole life and that was when Lonnie and I came back to England from India. I was really amazed at how elegant the ship was, though,’ she added. ‘We had a beautiful cabin, Lonnie and I, with lovely wardrobes for our clothes, ever such comfortable beds, a dressing-table, chairs … and all beautifully polished.’

‘Oh aye. You were on a passenger liner, and from the sound of it you came first class,’ Dick observed. ‘Most of the first class furniture is made by Waring and Gillow. Us ship’s joiners get to make the actual fittings such as companionways – that’s stairs to you, Miss Hester – and the contents of the crew’s quarters, dining rooms, saloons and so on.’ He smiled his slow smile once more. ‘At the moment, I’m working on a beautiful sideboard made of walnut. I love the feel of good wood, always have, which is why I signed on as a joiner’s apprentice as soon as I left school. Most of the workforce live in Birkenhead and when I marry and move away from home, I reckon I’ll cross the water. It’s nice over there. Have you ever taken the ferry across the Mersey, Miss Hester? If not, perhaps you might like to do so some day. When our dad were fit, Mam used to pack us a carry-out and the whole family would go off to New Brighton for a day at the seaside. I doubt he’s well enough to do
that now, but the rest of us could go, make a day of it. So if I arrange it, would you and young Lonnie like to come along?’

‘I suppose I ought to ask Miss Hetherington-Smith’s permission before I take Lonnie anywhere,’ Hester said doubtfully. ‘However, since her aunt seems totally uninterested in what we do and probably wouldn’t even miss us, if you tell me the day you’ve chosen, then I’m sure we’ll be happy to come along. We’ll contribute to the picnic, of course,’ she concluded.

She half expected Dick to demur but he nodded, seeming to take her offer for granted, and she realised once again that the Baileys would have a struggle to feed themselves, let alone two virtual strangers, and Dick would not willingly add to his mother’s burden.

As they neared Shaw Street, Dick began to question her about India once more and Hester, answering him as best she could, was astonished by the breadth of knowledge his questions revealed. She thought it would be tactless to remark on it but Lonnie, hopping along between them as she dodged the cracks in the paving stones, had no such inhibitions. ‘Have you ever been to India, Dick?’ Lonnie enquired. ‘Because you know an awful lot about it – more than I do, and I’ve lived there all my life, until now.’

Dick reached out a large, capable hand and rumpled Lonnie’s hair. ‘No, the furthest I’ve been in one direction is Southport, and New Brighton in the other,’ he observed ruefully. ‘But I’m a great reader, queen. I’m a member of the library and go to the Central on William Brown Street. I’ve been working me way through the International Library since I were ten and for some reason I’ve always been
interested in India.’ He whistled softly. ‘It’s a grand country, full of fascinating people and animals. You don’t know how I envy you your years there.’

‘I loved it too,’ Lonnie admitted. ‘But I hated the heat. It was lovely in the hills – we went there from April to October when my mother was alive, but after she died I had to return to Delhi when my daddy did, in July. That’s when the monsoon starts and the city is hot and wet and full of fevers. I think everyone hates the heat and the monsoon, even the Indians, don’t you, Hester?’

Hester, agreeing, thought fleetingly of the child she had first met more than three months before. A sickly, pallid little girl with dark circles under her eyes, always dressed up in stiffly starched white dresses with half a dozen petticoats beneath them, long white stockings and dark leather strap shoes, and a head-hugging bonnet of white straw, decorated with ribbons. It had been the standard dress for English children when they were in the city, changing only to jodhpurs and hacking jackets when they rode out on their ponies and God knew the second costume was as hot as the first. Her own mother – and her father, for that matter – had dressed their little girl sensibly, in loose silky-white dresses and open sandals. That was city wear, of course. When she was taken to the jungle, she wore loose baggy trousers and shirts and went barefoot whenever it was safe to do so.

She was beginning to tell Dick something of this when they turned into Haig Street and walked along the pavement until they reached the green wooden door. Here Dick stopped and went to open the door for her, then turned to her, looking puzzled. ‘Do you have a key?’ he asked.

Hester shook her head. ‘One of the servants must have locked it after I went. I think I left it open when I chased out after Lonnie. I’ve no recollection of shutting it, anyway.’ She turned away from the door and headed for Everton Brow once more. ‘I don’t have a key to the front door either but I can ring and Fletcher will come and let us in.’

When they reached Everton Brow, Dick stopped her with a hand on her arm. ‘I won’t come any further, because I don’t want to make trouble for you,’ he said quietly. ‘In my experience, there’s always someone looking out of the window and taking note of what’s going on outside. I don’t know Miss Hetherington-Smith but I’d lay a bet she wouldn’t approve of the likes of me being with her niece.’

Hester stared up at him, her eyes rounding with astonishment, then she laughed. ‘You certainly
don’t
know Miss Hetherington-Smith,’ she told him, her eyes sparkling. ‘She wouldn’t care if Lonnie and I stayed out all day and all night too, so long as we didn’t make a nuisance of ourselves. As for who our friends are, she should be grateful that we’ve met a nice family like yours – except that we see her so rarely, we never have a chance to tell her anything. Honestly, Dick, you can come right up to the house with us, no problem.’

This Dick resolutely refused to do, however. He shook hands with Hester, told Lonnie that he was sure he would see her again quite soon, touched his cap to both of them, and set off the way he had come. Hester and Lonnie approached the front door and Hester rang the bell, belatedly realising that since Dick had dived down Everton Brow he must have come out of his way to bring them home. She was reflecting on how nice he was, and how kind,
when the door opened. Expecting to see Fletcher’s thin, cadaverous countenance, she was surprised and even a little shocked to find Miss Hetherington-Smith herself glaring at her in the doorway. Hester opened her mouth to apologise for disturbing her employer, but she had no chance to say more than a few words. Miss Hetherington-Smith cut across her, mouth grim, thin brows drawn into a deep frown.

‘Come into the drawing room, Miss Elliott. I have a great deal to say to you, none of which I wish to be overheard by the servants.’

‘Wouldn’t it do later, Miss Hetherington-Smith?’ Hester said, rather desperately. Suddenly, she felt both young and inexperienced and wished fervently that she really was twenty-four, as Miss Hetherington-Smith had been informed, and not merely eighteen. The loneliness and the sense of overwhelming responsibility which had left her while she was in Elmore Street came flooding back. ‘It’s way past Lonnie’s bedtime and she’s had a rather frightening and tiring day.’

‘That is beside the point, Miss Elliott,’ Miss Hetherington-Smith said icily. ‘I know very little of children, but I imagine
Miss Leonora
is perfectly capable of remaining awake for another thirty minutes or so while we … discuss … your behaviour.’

Hester, with Lonnie leaning wearily against her, followed Miss Hetherington-Smith into the drawing room. She reflected that her initial determination to base her behaviour upon that of Lonnie’s governess in Delhi, Eleanor Andrews, was going to be tested to the full, from the sound of it. The trouble was, she had only known Miss Andrews for the few weeks she had lived in Mr Hetherington-Smith’s imposing mansion and had never seen that lady in any situation
of which she was not mistress. However, she braced her shoulders and faced Miss Hetherington-Smith across the hearth, hoping that she looked pleasant and in control, though she suspected it was likelier that she looked both exhausted and frightened, for Miss Hetherington-Smith was clearly in a blazing temper.

‘Miss Elliott, I have it on good authority that you and your charge abandoned this house without telling anyone that you intended to remain away from it for many hours,’ her employer began. ‘It so happened that one of the maids went upstairs at half-past eight to bring down your supper dishes and any remaining milk. She was much disturbed to realise that, despite the lateness of the hour, your supper had not been touched, so went into the schoolroom to ask the reason for this.’

Interfering, nosy little beast, Hester thought wrathfully, continuing to eye her employer steadily, hoping she gave no hint of her inner turmoil. She knew instinctively that it would never do to let Miss Hetherington-Smith realise how inexperienced and unsure she really was. ‘I’m sorry if the maid was worried,’ she said politely. ‘I did not realise I was supposed to apprise the servants of my movements, though I would have been hard put to it to do so, since I had no idea we would be away from the house for so long.’