Poor Little Rich Girl (20 page)

‘You never know,’ Joey said. ‘You’re a grand lad, Dick, a feller any gal would be proud to walk out with. Governesses is only human, after all.’

‘It’s a bit more complicated than that,’ Dick said, rather guardedly. He glanced around at the men crowding the deck, then took Joey’s arm and propelled him to the stern rail, where the two men stood looking over the side at the choppy grey waters of the Mersey. ‘She’s all alone in the world, d’you see? So far as I can make out she’s got no relatives living and the old woman she works for has made it plain she thinks us Baileys is low. She doesn’t want her niece – or her governess for that matter – associating with the likes of us. I had hoped we might manage to see her again, but no luck so far and it’s been months since we last met.’

Joey looked at him thoughtfully. ‘I’ve knowed you for eight years and in all that time you’ve never been really interested in a gal,’ he remarked. ‘Oh, I know you’ve took girls dancing and to the cinema, or for picnics on trips up the river, but you was never really interested, if you know what I mean. So why this gal, eh?’

Dick whistled tunelessly between his teeth for a moment, still gazing down at the water, then he lifted his eyes to Joey’s face. ‘I don’t know, and that’s
God’s truth,’ he said simply. ‘Hester isn’t just pretty, though, she’s really beautiful. And it isn’t just her looks, neither. There’s a deal of sweetness in her. My mam says she’s got a generous spirit … well, she’s ever so good and patient with that young Lonnie Hetherington-Smith and she’s not an easy child, nor a nice one, truth to tell. Yet I reckon that after living with Hester for a few more months Lonnie’ll lose a whole lot of her superior ways and probably end up a decent little girl like our Phyllis.’

‘Tell you what,’ Joey said presently, having thought the matter over, ‘the old lady don’t know me from Adam, do she – any more than the servants do? What say I go there, pretend I’m a small shopkeeper – I always fancy I look like a shopkeeper – and say the young lady left a glove or some such thing in me shop afore Christmas. I could go Boxing Day. Then I could have a private word, like, wi’ your Miss Hester Elliott, arrange a meeting betwixt the pair of you, and you could take it from there.’

Dick would have been the first to say that he was not a quick thinker, that he needed time before taking the lightest decision. He was cautious, considering all aspects of every question before giving his own reply. Accordingly, he regarded Joey’s generous offer from every angle, though he found himself replying before he had anywhere near thought it through. ‘Would you, Joey?’ he said in a low voice. ‘It were what I hoped young Ben would do when he telled me he’d met up wi’ the pair of ’em. The trouble is, there’s things you can tell a young lad who ain’t yet eleven and there’s things you can’t. A couple o’ times I began to suggest that he might arrange a meeting with Hester and Lonnie if they came into the shop when he were working there. But somehow
I couldn’t bring meself to say it.’ He looked earnestly down at Joey’s rubicund face. ‘I’m not saying as Ben would have laughed at me – he ain’t that sort of feller – but I felt it gave away me feelings for Hester when I wasn’t even sure meself how I felt. And then, there’s Hester herself. She can’t possibly know how I feel, far less feel the same. She’s very young and she’s still a stranger in this country … mebbe I’m being unfair to her. Mebbe it wouldn’t be right to even try to gerrin touch.’

Joey looked at him, his small eyes widening. He tipped his bowler to the back of his head and whistled soundlessly. ‘Well, I never did know such a feller!’ he gasped. ‘In the space of half a minute you’ve talked yourself right round from one point of view to another. Tell me straight, young Dick, do you want me to go to this here gal’s house or don’t you? This is last chance time, ’cos I ain’t going to offer again.’

Dick saw that there was amusement in his friend’s twinkling blue eyes, but that there was understanding, too. He took a deep breath, intending to prevaricate, to say that he would let Joey know later in the day, and heard his voice saying quickly: ‘Yes, yes please, Joey. I’d be right grateful if you’d arrange a meeting for Hester and me. Tell her I’ll be outside … let me see … St Augustine’s church at two o’clock on Boxing Day. If she can’t make it then, tell her any time, any day, when I’m not working.’

‘That’ll be grand,’ Joey said approvingly, beaming at his friend. ‘You leave it to me, our Dick. If she can’t manage two o’clock on Boxing Day – come to think of it, hadn’t you better make it three, in case they have a late dinner and she’s held up – then I’ll arrange for some other time,
’cos I know when we’re not working – none better!’

‘Thanks, Joey, you’re a real pal,’ Dick said gratefully. ‘Just thinking about seeing Hester again has made me Christmas, honest to God it has. So what time will you go round there, Boxing Day? If you go early enough, we can meet for a pint at the Vaults and you can tell me what happened.’

The Crescent Vaults was a favourite pub with most of the men who lived in the warren of tiny streets off Everton Brow. Dick knew Joey regarded it as his local and was to be found there a couple of nights a week, nursing a pint of Guinness, his favourite bevvy. He was not surprised, therefore, when Joey fell in with this suggestion at once. ‘I’ll go round to the girl’s place at eleven,’ he said. ‘No, better make it half-past ten in case they’s going out. That’ll mean I’ll be in the Vaults by eleven o’clock. Does that suit you?’

‘I’ll be there from half ten onwards,’ Dick said fervently.

Christmas Day dawned bright but extremely cold. Hester and Lonnie were grateful for the bright fire burning in the school grate, for Mollie, as a Christmas treat she had said, had come sneaking up the attic stairs whilst the house was dark and still, and had lit their fire for them.

‘It don’t do the old lady no harm if I lights your fire in my own time,’ she had told Hester on a previous occasion when she had done the same thing. ‘If you asks me, Miss Hester, Miss Lonnie’s father would be mad as anything if he knew the way that old woman treats the pair of you. Still an’ all, me, Maud, Edith and old Fletcher does our best
to make you a bit more comfortable. Why, even old Hutch snitched a few chocolate biscuits out of Miss Hetherington-Smith’s supply and smuggled ’em up to Miss Lonnie. She daren’t do much, poor old dear, but she does what she can.’

Lonnie, fully dressed and with her hair braided into a long plait, was hopping up and down with excitement and eyeing the parcels piled on the schoolroom table. ‘May we open just one or two, Hester?’ she pleaded. ‘I know my aunt said they were to be carried downstairs and put under the tree until after Christmas luncheon, but surely we might undo one of Daddy’s presents. Or two?’

Hester, however, did not think this wise. She had noticed Miss Hetherington-Smith making a note of parcels received – and sent – and knew it would not be sensible to antagonise the older woman. ‘I don’t think we’d better open your father’s presents,’ she said. ‘But you may open my present if you wish.’

Lonnie gave a squeak of delight and hurled herself at the pile of packages. She ripped off the brown wrapping paper to reveal a white angora wool hat and matching mittens and of course immediately put them on and stared with admiration at her reflection in the small looking glass. ‘Thank you ever so much, Hester,’ she said earnestly. ‘Do you remember seeing that little girl in Bold Street …?’

‘Yes, of course I do,’ Hester said, smiling. ‘Why did you think I bought them, you little goose? I wished I could ask the little girl’s mother where she had got them but I didn’t want you to guess what I was buying so I simply had to search the shops until I found the right things. They do look well on you. And now I think we ought to go down
for breakfast, since your aunt has insisted that we join them for all meals today.’

‘Well, it isn’t because she loves us,’ Lonnie mumbled, as they set off down the first flight of stairs. ‘It’s because everyone will be at eleven o’clock service and after that we’ve been invited round to the Russells’ for pre-luncheon drinks. I expect they’ll have champagne and whisky and things and you and I will get lemonade,’ she added gloomily. ‘Oh well, at least there’s roast turkey with all the trimmings and delicious plum pudding, as well as nuts and fruit and mince pies to look forward to.’

‘And after luncheon, there’s the present opening,’ Hester reminded her. ‘And Mollie says that Christmas breakfast is pretty good as well. There’s bacon and egg, and mushrooms, and those specially fine sausages which Eli Alper makes …’

‘Ooh, lovely,’ Lonnie said rapturously. ‘Do you know, Hester, I was never really hungry in India. I don’t know whether it was the heat, but I used to push my food round and round my plate and long for the end of the meal to come. I never wondered what was for dinner or asked for a second helping, but now I really enjoy my food and look forward to meal times.’

‘It’s the cold, I think,’ Hester said. ‘When it’s cold you are much more active because you’re trying to keep warm, and when you’re active it gives you an appetite. I’m the same; yet despite eating much more than usual, I don’t think I’ve put on any weight, which means I’m using up the food in energy.’

‘Yes, I know what you mean. Scrubbing floors, dusting picture rails and brushing carpets does use
up a lot …’ Lonnie was beginning, when the drawing room door opened to reveal Miss Hetherington-Smith and Miss Hutchinson, both smiling benignly.

‘Good morning, Leonora, good morning, Miss Elliott,’ Emmeline greeted them. ‘I expect you’re eager for your breakfast. And then you must wrap up warmly, because though I’m sure the dear vicar does his best, the church is bound to be chilly on such a frosty day.’

She led the small procession into the breakfast parlour where they took their places round the table in the window embrasure whilst Mollie and Maud brought the tureens over from the sideboard. ‘Isn’t it nice to see the sun shining?’ Miss Hutchinson said presently, when they were all served. ‘I’m sure this is going to be a wonderful Christmas for all of us!’

Christmas Day had been as enjoyable as Miss Hutchinson had predicted, Hester thought as she tidied round the schoolroom and served the porridge she had made earlier, in two round, blue porringers. Mr Hetherington-Smith’s gifts had been delightful and generous. Hester had received a length of rose-coloured silk, so beautiful that she was sure she would never dare cut into it to make the dress for which it was intended. Lonnie had received dress lengths in kingfisher blue silk and warm scarlet wool as well as a game called Monopoly which had greatly intrigued her and made her long, she told Hester, for a quiet afternoon so that the two of them might learn its intricacies.

There had been other gifts, of course. Boxes of chocolates, gaily coloured hair ribbons, soaps and talcum powder and, from Miss Hetherington-Smith, a leather-bound bible and matching prayer book. Lonnie, Hester knew, had been hard pressed not to giggle when she had unwrapped her aunt’s gift, but Hester thought she had behaved impeccably. Lonnie had admired the rather prosaic black and white illustrations in the bible and had said it would be nice to have her own prayer book so that she might learn by heart all her favourite passages. Miss Hutchinson had shot her a suspicious glance – her own gift to Lonnie had been a copy of
The Wind in the Willows
by Kenneth Grahame, beautifully illustrated by Ernest Shepard –
but Miss Hetherington-Smith merely seemed gratified by Lonnie’s words and thanked the child, with apparent sincerity, for the beautifully embroidered handkerchiefs.

Later in the afternoon, the guests had arrived for tea and to Lonnie’s joy the party had included two children of about her own age, a boy and a girl, called Peter and Eunice. They were staying in Shaw Street with relatives and immediately tea was over – it was various exciting sandwiches, little cakes and biscuits and of course a towering, white-frosted Christmas cake – Lonnie carried them off to the schoolroom, begging Hester to accompany them so that they might meet Kitty and have four people to play Monopoly.

Kitty, stuffed with Christmas treats, for Hester had smuggled up a supply of the roast bird, was much admired, and, fortunately perhaps, Peter and Eunice knew the game of Monopoly well. They seemed to enjoy instructing Hester and Lonnie and by the time their mother decided to take them home they were all on excellent terms. Lonnie extended an invitation to her new friends to come to the park with herself and her governess next day. ‘It’ll be much more fun with the three of us – and Hester – to play Hide and Seek and Catch and so on,’ she exclaimed. ‘And then there are the swings and boats on the lake … If only it might snow again. Then we could make a slide!’

Unfortunately, Mrs Hopwood had already made arrangements to spend Boxing Day visiting her sister in Southport. They would set out early in their motor and probably not return until after dinner, she told Lonnie apologetically, but there was no reason to cancel the trip to the park since Peter and Eunice would
be quite free to accompany her on the following day, the twenty-seventh.

Lonnie, with a number of other games beside Monopoly to play, not to mention a brand new skipping rope and a pair of roller skates, had been happy enough to accept the change in her plans gracefully and had gone to sleep that night clutching the roller skates to her bosom, as though they had been soft as swansdown. Hester, afraid she might roll on them and do herself an injury, had gently removed them before seeking her own bed, replacing them with the angora hat and mittens. She had put the roller skates down on the bedside table and by morning Lonnie seemed to have forgotten her unusual sleeping companions. She jumped out of bed full of plans for their day and then took so long to get dressed that when Hester called through to tell her breakfast was ready, she entered the schoolroom in her underwear, with her dressing gown slung hastily around her shoulders. ‘I’ll dress in a minute, honestly I will, Hester,’ she promised. ‘But I do hate cold porridge and I don’t want to waste your lovely food. Besides, there are only the two of us and you don’t mind if I eat my breakfast in my dressing gown, do you?’

‘No, I don’t mind. And there are sausages afterwards,’ Hester told the child. ‘You can thank Mrs Ainsworth for that. She smuggled a parcel of sausages to Mollie, who brought them up last night, after you’d gone to sleep. Cook said we might as well have ’em as they’d go to waste otherwise. She’s nice, Mrs Ainsworth. She told me the other day that though Miss Hetherington-Smith is a difficult woman to work for, at least she insists that only the best ingredients are bought and never grumbles over
household expenses provided she can see what she’s paying for.’

‘My father pays,’ Lonnie said virtuously, tucking into her porridge. ‘If Aunt Emmeline had to pay out of her own purse it would be a different story. That I
do
know.’

‘True,’ Hester acknowledged. ‘If you’ve finished I’ll just nip through and fetch the dish of sausages.’

Although Miss Hetherington-Smith always made sure that there was plenty of good food available, she did not consider that a cooked breakfast was necessary for children or their governesses, so the sausages were a real treat and both Lonnie and Hester tucked in with a will. What was more, Kitty was given a piece, finely chopped, and Lonnie got a good deal of satisfaction from watching her pet, paws tucked in and tail curled round, enjoying the treat. After the sausage the cat had a saucer of milk, then Lonnie got out the ball of wool with a string attached that had been Miss Hutchinson’s present for the kitten. The two of them began an energetic game and Hester, with a sigh, reminded her charge that if they were to get some fresh air before luncheon she ought to think about getting dressed. Lonnie, tearing round the room just ahead of Kitty, replied indistinctly that she would get dressed presently, so Hester went into the attic kitchen and took the kettle off the gas ring, poured hot water into the basin, and began to wash up. Since she had no wish to get anyone into trouble she disposed of every sign of the sausages, then washed and dried all their breakfast things, including the frying pan. She was stacking everything tidily away in the old and battered cupboards which Fletcher and young Alf, the boot-boy, had rather reluctantly carried up
the attic stairs, when Mollie’s familiar bouncy step sounded on the flight. Hester went to the door and smiled an enquiry and Mollie, out of breath, stopped a dozen steps short of the landing.

‘Oh, miss, there’s a feller at the door for you,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I said as he could give the glove to me – though I didn’t think it looked like one o’ yourn, miss, nor Miss Lonnie’s either – but he said as how he’d not give it up to anyone but the young leddy as left it on his counter. So could you come?’

‘Glove? But I’ve not lost a glove, or I don’t think I have, at any rate,’ Hester said, puzzled. ‘I suppose Lonnie could have done so, though. Was it a woolly glove, Mollie?’

‘Yes … no … oh, I’m not sure, miss,’ Mollie said distractedly. She glanced nervously down the stairs behind her and Hester remembered that the staff had been told that they must no longer go up to the attics. ‘Shall I tell him to go away, then?’

‘No, no, I’ll come, of course. Tell him I’ll not be a moment,’ Hester said at once. It had suddenly occurred to her that it might be Ben – or even Dick – at the front door. Mollie, glad to have delivered her message without seeing Miss Hetherington-Smith, ran down the stairs and headed for the next flight, but paused a moment as Hester said in a conspiratorial whisper: ‘This man … is he young, Moll? Just a boy, I mean? Or … is he older?’

‘He’s ever so old, miss,’ Mollie hissed back. ‘He’s little and fat and … oh, mercy, there’s the breakfast room bell. I’d best hurry.’

Well, it’s neither Ben nor Dick, Hester told herself. She had meant to go back to the schoolroom and tell Lonnie of the visitor, but decided against it. The child and the kitten would be happy enough for a good
while yet, and she herself would not be two minutes at the door. What was more, she could fetch up an armful of logs whilst she was about it, which would save another trip downstairs to the woodshed later in the day.

Descending the last flight of stairs, a sharp wind reminded her that whilst the front door remained open it was cooling down the entire house, which would presently bring Miss Hetherington-Smith from the breakfast parlour to demand who was thoughtless enough to have left the door ajar. Not wanting trouble on a holiday, Hester almost ran down the hallway, went out into the chilly morning and pulled the door half closed behind her. This way she was less likely to be accused of freezing the entire household, though she, of course, would be an icicle if she stayed on the step for more than a moment or two.

The small, round man standing outside, hat in hand, grinned at her and replaced the bowler on his head, covering a thick mop of grey hair. ‘Morning, miss,’ he said. ‘I noticed you come into me shop afore Christmas, along o’ a little gal, and when you left I found this glove …’ he flourished a very plain, black woollen glove ’… a-lyin’ on the floor. We was mortal busy but I ran to the door to see if I could call you back, only you an’ the little gal had gawn. So I come along here this mornin’ …’

‘How did you know I lived here?’ Hester said. She could not remember the small man and thought him more memorable than otherwise. Was this some trick to take a look at the house of a well-to-do family? If so he had been foiled, since Mollie had clearly not thought to invite him to step inside to wait and she herself meant to do no such thing. ‘Surely my name and address are not inside the glove?’

She spoke sarcastically and was rather surprised when the small man beamed at her. ‘No, Miss Elliott, nothin’ o’ that sort,’ he said in a lowered tone. ‘To tell the truth, a friend axed me to call, and this were the best excuse I could find. A friend by the name o’ Dick Bailey.’

‘Dick!’ Hester said, and at the small man’s alarmed expression clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘Dick Bailey did you say?’ she added in a much quieter tone. ‘Oh, Dick is very much our friend, but things have been so difficult … I was terrified that he might come to the house to wish us the compliments of the season … not that there would have been anything wrong in his so doing but my employer has some very odd ideas and we – Lonnie and me, that is – get so little time to ourselves … but what is the message? And who are you, if you don’t mind my asking?’

‘I’m Joey Frost, miss,’ the little man said hoarsely. ‘I’m foreman joiner at Laird’s and Dick’s one of me best mates as well as the best wood carver we’ve got.’

Hester’s hands flew to her throat. ‘Is – is anything wrong?’ she quavered. ‘I know Mr Bailey is a sick man … or has Dick been injured in some way?’

‘No, no, nothing of that sort,’ Mr Frost said reassuringly. ‘Dick wanted to come to the house himself, but we thought it would be safer if I come instead, using the glove as an excuse to get to see you. Dick’s rare keen for a meetin’ and suggested three o’clock today, outside St Augustine’s church, if that would suit? I’ll be seein’ him in about half an hour so I can tell him what we’ve arranged then.’

Hester smiled down at the small man. ‘It’s very good of you, Mr Frost, to do so much for Dick,
and you may tell him I shall certainly be outside the church at three o’clock this afternoon,’ she said, keeping her voice low. ‘I shall have to bring Lonnie of course, but I dare say Dick will understand.’ She was about to bid Mr Frost goodbye, when it occurred to her that she was not her own mistress. Miss Hetherington-Smith might easily tell her, when she went to the study to outline her plans for the day, that she wanted some tasks doing or messages run that afternoon. Unless she could think of a cast-iron excuse for leaving the house at around three o’clock, she might either be very late or have to miss the appointment altogether.

She said as much to Mr Frost, then took the glove in her hand and examined it closely, just in case her employer was already seated in the study, watching her from between the dark velvet curtains.

Mr Frost, however, seemed equal to the challenge. ‘Tell her ladyship there’s to be a children’s carol service in the Liverpool High School, further down Shaw Street, this afternoon,’ he said. ‘Say Lonnie’s very keen to go and you reckon it’ll be a grand afternoon, wi’ lemonade and mince pies throwed in for the kids and a nice cup o’ tea for grown-ups. It’s true, too,’ he added virtuously. ‘There’ll be a mort o’ kids there so even if she were walkin’ past at comin’ out time, likely she’d not see her niece amongst all the others. Come to that,’ he added, struck by a sudden idea, ‘why don’t you leave young Lonnie there whiles you and Dick have your chat? I’ll lay she’d have a grand time.’

‘Mr Frost, you’re a genius!’ Hester said admiringly. ‘I’ll ask Miss Hetherington-Smith if she would like to come with us, because if there’s one thing she hates, it’s kids. Besides, she and Miss Hutchinson
were talking the other day and I’m pretty sure she’s ordered Allsop, the chauffeur, to bring the motor round at two, so that she may go and visit friends who live out at Great Sutton.’

It was Mr Frost’s turn to look doubtful. ‘But suppose she asks you to go along,’ he said worriedly. ‘What excuse could you give? Would a kiddies’ carol service be a good enough reason for missing a trip in a motor car?’

Hester laughed. But she was beginning to shiver for she had not thought to drape a coat around herself before emerging from the front door. ‘She never invites either of us to go out with her,’ she explained. ‘So we’ll be quite safe on that score.’ She held out her hand, and after a second’s hesitation Mr Frost did the same and they shook. ‘No, Mr Frost, I’m afraid you’ve had a journey for nothing,’ Hester said, in her normal voice. ‘The glove belongs to neither myself nor Miss Leonora. However, it was exceedingly good of you to come all this way and I hope you have better luck with your next customer, though if I were you I should simply pin it up in your window and wait for the owner to come past and recognise it. Good day to you!’