Poor Little Rich Girl (17 page)

Yes, there were many things which an intelligent young girl could do. In fact, Miss Emmeline thought, the work which she would set the child could be regarded as a much needed lesson in housekeeping. Frequently, Miss Emmeline had to send one of the maids to the grocer’s, greengrocer’s or fishmonger’s for some item the household needed. If her order
was a large one, the shop delivered, so there was no reason why Lonnie should not be sent on errands such as this. The wretched governess was always pointing out that children needed fresh air; well, she would get plenty of fresh air on her way to and from the shops and if Hester thought the distance too long for short legs, then a child’s tram fare was only half that of an adult. Miss Emmeline began to smile. At present the household employed three maids. With Hester doing a good deal of the housework and the child helping with such tasks as the preparation of vegetables, the washing up after dinner and the running of messages, it might be possible to dispense with the services of one, or even two, of the other maids.

Outside, the snow still fell and as she stared, unseeingly, at the whirling flakes, Miss Emmeline’s attention was caught by two figures emerging from the front door. Both were well muffled up in caps, scarves, coats and boots, the taller one carrying what looked like a parcel, whilst the shorter was rolling a snowball along the pavement, now and then stopping to turn it so that it retained a rounded, rather than a wheel-like, shape. Gadding about without a thought for who will have to clear up the mud and snow they will bring in again, Miss Emmeline thought viciously. She glanced automatically at her watch as the dusk deepened to make sure that the governess and her charge had not broken their curfew. It was still only half-past three, however, so she turned from the cold scene outside with a little shiver. The sight of the snow made the small study in which Miss Emmeline sat seem even warmer by contrast, though the fire in the grate needed making up. She smiled and stood up and tugged at the bell
pull; it crossed her mind how pleasant it would be to tug at the bell pull, as she had just done, and to have Hester – the once proud and beautiful Miss Elliott – come creeping in with her hair in a tangle and her cap on crooked, to answer the summons. How enjoyable it would be to order Hester to fetch up a new scuttleful of coal; how delightful to see her returning with sweat running down her face. Even more delightful would be the sight of Hester, the once proud governess, heaving lumps of coal on to the fire and then pushing back her hair to leave coal streaks all over her brow.

Give me a month, just a month, and she’ll be sorry she ever told lying tales of me to my brother, Miss Emmeline told herself grimly. At the end of two months, she’ll be quite crushed and the child along with her. There will be no more snooty looks and impudent answers from either of them.

Presently, the maid, Mollie, entered the room, glanced at the fire and seized the empty scuttle without being asked. Miss Emmeline was quite surprised to see how neat and trim the girl looked, but then she had been a housemaid for months, she comforted herself. If Hester had answered the bell, how different things would be!

‘Shan’t be a tick, miss,’ Mollie called cheerfully as she left the room. ‘You should ha’ rung earlier, the perishin’ fire’s near on out.’

‘Mollie! I do have a name, you know; how many times do I have to tell you …?’

‘Sorry, Miss Smith,’ Mollie said promptly, pausing in the doorway. ‘I means to remember but you know me, I gorra rotten mem’ry.’

‘For the hundredth time, Mollie, my name is Miss Hethering …’

But it was too late; Miss Hetherington-Smith was speaking to a closed door. Sighing, she turned back to her desk in the window embrasure. Mollie will be the first to go, she told herself. As things stood at present, she had little choice but to employ the girl, since despite the Depression live-in servants who were as poorly paid as Mollie were difficult to find. But if she could use Hester and Lonnie …

Miss Emmeline smiled at the whirling flakes and continued to plot.

Ben was selling firewood and feeling quite pleased with himself. It was early December and trade in the pet shop was thriving, for a good many indulgent parents bought pets for their children as Christmas presents and though trade always fell off lamentably after the holiday, such pets still had to be fed and Mr Madison made sure he kept plenty of fodder in for the lean months. The shop was well stocked with small animals and birds at present and they all had to be fed and watered and cleaned out daily, so Ben did not have very much time to himself, but he was keen to make some money so that he could buy presents for his family and had begun to haunt any shop whose goods were delivered in wooden boxes. Having acquired a good supply of such boxes, he had then used his parent’s small wood axe to chop them into kindling which he tied into bundles with short lengths of twine and sold for a ha’penny each.

He could not sell his kindling whilst he was at work or at school but the shop did not open on a Sunday and he generally finished work by eight on a week-day, so despite the cold and snow he usually managed about an hour’s selling each evening and spent most of Sunday renewing his supplies.

Ben looked into the large canvas bag slung around his shoulder and sighed. He had six more bundles to sell and though his feet were so cold he could no longer feel them, his hands ached with the chill and he knew that when he did get home and began to warm up, his extremities would be agony. However, he was halfway down Everton Road and the next few houses were large ones; if they were short of kindling – and you never knew your luck – they might easily buy at least two bundles, which would shorten his toil considerably.

Ben trudged up the next short pathway and rapped on the door. He was in luck today, having finished early at the pet shop, since trade had been slow because of the snow. He and Mr Madison had cleaned down and moved the animals back from the window by three in the afternoon; then the blinds had come rattling down – it helped to keep the interior of the shop warm, Ben knew – the tiny oil stove which was kept behind the counter during daylight hours was carried into the centre of the shop, and he and Mr Madison went about their own business. Ben had gone straight home, picked up his supplies of kindling and set out for a part of the city he had not yet covered. He had done pretty well, he considered now, waiting for someone to answer the front door. He had started out with twenty bundles of kindling and now had only six left, which meant – he struggled with mental multiplication for a moment – that he was the richer by sevenpence to add to his hoard.

‘Yes? What d’you want?’ A small, pert-faced girl in a long draggly apron, a cap perched on her greasy hair, looked at him enquiringly. ‘If you’re sellin’ something …’

‘It’s kindling, only a ha’penny a bundle,’ Ben said
quickly, diving into the canvas bag and producing one. “They’re ever so cheap, miss, only a ha’penny.’

‘We don’t want none,’ the girl said quickly. She tried to swing the heavy door shut but Ben pretended to drop the kindling, which was not hard because of his numb fingers, and shot out a boot, successfully preventing the door from closing.

‘You could ask in the kitchen,’ he said persuasively as he straightened up. ‘A ha’penny ain’t much and it’s good kindling. I chopped it meself out of orange boxes and it’s dry as dry, so when you put a match to it it’ll go up like a rocket.’

The girl gave him a long, calculating look, then turned away, not attempting to shut the door again. ‘I’ll nip an’ ask Mr Sedgewick, though since I’m the one that has to light the fires I’d be pleased enough to use dry kindling; the stuff what comes in from the woodshed is always damp,’ she remarked over her shoulder. ‘But people in big houses always seems careful wi’ their splosh,’ she added, in a lowered tone. ‘It ain’t as if they’d even notice partin’ wi’ a copper or two either. So I’ll have a go for you.’

Ben, who had not thought her a particularly pleasant girl, was delighted when she came back with tuppence, informing him grandly that Mr Sedgewick himself had parted with the money and she would take four bundles, if he pleased. ‘Thanks ever so much, miss,’ Ben said earnestly, grinning from ear to ear. ‘I were that cold I were on the point of giving up and now I’ve only got two more bundles to sell, then I can go home. Thanks again!’

The girl grinned at him, an elfin grin which lit up her small, narrow face, and made her look almost pretty. ‘That’s all right, chuck,’ she said, preparing
to close the door behind him. ‘Good luck wi’ your last two bundles!’

Ben glanced up at the next house and was about to ascend the steps when someone caught hold of his arm. He looked down and saw a small girl, warmly dressed in a navy-blue serge coat with a fur collar and a scarlet, fur-fringed hat. It was Lonnie. She had a long scarlet and white scarf wrapped around her neck and the woolly glove on his sleeve was scarlet too. She was beaming up at him, her face rosy with the cold and her eyes bright, clearly delighted to see him again. Standing nearby, also smiling broadly, was the governess.

‘Ben!’ Lonnie squeaked. ‘Oh, how maddening that I didn’t realise it was you earlier! It would have been much more fun to get your attention by throwing a snowball at you, but I threw the last one at the gas lamp on the corner. It seems ages since we saw you! How are Mr and Mrs Bailey? Oh, I do miss them, but I expect they told you how horrid Aunt Emmeline had been and how we dare not go round to Elmore Street just yet.’

‘Yes, Dick did tell us your aunt didn’t approve of us,’ Ben said grudgingly, after a moment. ‘But he telled us you were goin’ to call round at the shop when I were there working, and you never did. I’ve allus looked out for you, too,’ he ended virtuously.

The governess stepped forward, smiling. ‘We have been to the pet shop at least half a dozen times since then, but the trouble is, with the shorter afternoons, we don’t have much spare time which coincides with yours,’ she said apologetically. ‘Miss Hetherington-Smith now insists that we return to the house before dusk begins to fall. Nursery tea has to be served at four o’clock and we aren’t allowed to leave
the house after teatime, and on Sundays it’s even worse. We attend morning service at St Augustine’s church, then we have our midday meal with Miss Hetherington-Smith and her companion, and during the afternoon Lonnie has to read to her and tell her what stage her studies have reached. After that, we go to evening service, which gives us very little time to ourselves.’

‘It isn’t as though she listens to what I’ve been doing, either,’ Lonnie put in resentfully. ‘She usually falls asleep, doesn’t she, Hester? And quite often she snores so loud, I can’t hear myself speak. Once, I laughed, and she woke up and told Hester I was a rude, impertinent brat, and needed a good whipping.’

Ben looked at the small girl doubtfully. Was she simply making excuses for not visiting the shop? Probably. ‘But it’s past four now. If you aren’t allowed out after four …’

‘We aren’t,’ Lonnie said, giggling. ‘But Aunt Emmeline wanted some letters taking to the post. My father wrote a week ago to say he had married again and I suppose she wanted to congratulate him – at any rate, one of the letters was addressed to Delhi. She wanted some knitting wool as well, from Wendy’s on Heyworth Street. She didn’t tell us to get it, mind, she told old rabbit-Hutch, but
she’s
got a shocking cold in the head, so when Hester offered to go in her place, she jumped at it.’

Ben raised his eyebrows. Old rabbit-Hutch? Had the snow turned the girl’s brain? He glanced interrogatively across at Hester, who was smiling and nodding. ‘Poor Ben, he must think we’ve run mad,’ she said cheerfully. ‘The fact is, Lonnie’s aunt has a companion by the name of Miss Hutchinson, but I’m
afraid we’ve taken to calling her Hutch, because it’s shorter. I rather like her, but Lonnie does not and since she thinks Hutch looks like a rabbit …’

‘I get it,’ Ben said quickly. ‘But if you’ve been snowballing lampposts, young Lonnie, you must have been out for longer than an hour! What’ll happen when you get home again, eh?’

‘Nothing much,’ Lonnie said cheerfully. ‘We’ve got awfully cunning, haven’t we, Hester? You see, my aunt’s a creature of habit, who does everything by the clock. At six, she goes to her room to change for dinner and whilst she’s there she usually sends for a glass of madeira. We reckon she’ll be safely tucked away in her room between six and six thirty, so if we
do
manage to escape, we always return to the house around that time. We go in the back gate because Mr Mimms had a key cut for us and though the servants must know we’re breaking the rules they never tell on us. They don’t like my aunt any more than I do,’ she ended triumphantly.

Ben nodded. Dick had said gloomily, after Hester’s last visit, that he doubted whether they would ever see the two young ladies again but he had told Ben to keep his eyes peeled for a sight of them. ‘They’ll be round to Mr Madison’s so any gossip that’s going, any change in their circumstances, they’ll tell you,’ he informed his young brother. ‘And you can pass it on to the rest of us, our Ben. That way, we won’t lose touch entirely and things is bound to get better as young Lonnie gets older.’

Ben hoped that this would be so, but when he talked to Ted, his brother was a trifle doubtful. ‘They live in a posh house, in a smart part of the city. They may ha’ been glad to visit us when they were strangers and didn’t know many other people,’
he had said. ‘But that’ll all change when the gal goes to school or that aunt of hers begins to introduce her to her own friends and relatives. Still an’ all, they’s only a couple of gals.’

A touch on his arm brought Ben’s attention back to the present. ‘Ben? You do believe me, don’t you?’ Lonnie asked anxiously. ‘It’s been horrid, not being able to come and go as we like. We didn’t mention it, but Aunt Emmeline actually set the servants to spy on us, only we knew we were being followed, so we were very careful.’