Poor Little Rich Girl (23 page)

‘Yes, that sounds fine,’ Dick said. ‘If you can’t make it, would you be able to nip into Madison’s and leave a message with Ben? He’s there most days in the school holidays.’

This was agreed, and far too soon for Dick the tram began to slow down as it approached the stop while below the conductor bellowed: ‘Everton Brow!’ at the top of his not inconsiderable voice.

‘Oh, oh, we’re almost there. I’ll go first so’s you’ll have something soft to fall on if you trip on the stairs,’
Lonnie said cheerfully. ‘Goodbye, Dick – and thank you again. I wish it were Boxing Day a hundred times a year!’

Dick stood up and took Hester’s hands in his and even as she began to thank him for the treat, he interrupted her. ‘It’s me who has to thank you for your company,’ he said softly. ‘It’s been a real pleasure, honest it has. I dunno how I’ll wait till Thursday but I guess I won’t think of much else till then.’ And before he allowed himself to wonder whether he dared or dared not, he had bent and kissed her cheek.

Hester walked home on air. She liked Dick better than any other young man she had yet met and the thought that he obviously liked her too was heady stuff for a girl who was not yet nineteen to take on board. What was more, she thought that Dick would not try to hurry her or persuade her to do anything she disliked or felt was wrong. He had talked a little about his work at Cammell Laird’s and she had got the impression of a sober and industrious young man, liked by his workmates and respected by other craftsmen – in other words, she told herself, the sort of person her father would have thought a – a suitable friend for his daughter.

The thought made her blush. How embarrassing it was, but how true, that a woman’s mind went from meeting a man to marriage in one leap. How equally true, she suspected, that a man’s mind made no such leap – or, if it leapt at all, leapt in a far less moral direction.

But that was just what Dick’s mind had not done, she was sure. He liked her, wanted to get to know her better, but had no intention of trying to persuade
her into a deeper, more serious relationship before she was ready for it.

And then there was his sense of humour. Hurrying towards home, with Lonnie’s small hand firmly clasped in her own, she thought of his smiling, teasing face, the way his eyes lit up, the strength of his jaw, the cleft chin, and the long laughter line which sprang up by his mouth whenever something really tickled him. Thinking of it, she gave a small gurgle of amusement and immediately Lonnie said, as though Hester been voicing her thoughts aloud: ‘He really is nice, isn’t he, Hester? Dick, I mean. I thought he was awfully good-looking the first time we saw him, but now I just like him best of everyone I know, except for my daddy, of course. Oh, and you, dear Hester!’

‘Yes, he is nice. But we mustn’t talk about him any more, because we’re getting far too close to the house, and you know we agreed that your aunt would not be at all pleased if she discovered that we were meeting a young man,’ Hester reminded her charge. ‘I wonder, are all elderly English ladies like your aunt? Do you suppose none of them approve of a member of their household seeing someone of the opposite sex?’

Lonnie chuckled. ‘If that was true no one would work for my aunt for very long,’ she pointed out. ‘Mollie has a young man – he’s the butcher’s assistant from Davies’s shop, on Hibbert Street – and Maud has a young man as well, though hers lives in Formby, so she doesn’t see him all that often. No, I think it’s probably that they don’t much like their nannies or their governesses having gentlemen friends.’

‘I don’t see why that should be,’ Hester said, genuinely puzzled. ‘What’s the difference between one employee and another?’

‘Oh, a nanny or a governess might corrupt the mind of a child in her charge,’ Lonnie said, giggling. ‘I heard one of the nannies in the park saying that, only she was joking, I think. So are we going to meet Dick again? Next time he might bring Ben, then we could …’

But they had reached the house and Hester gave Lonnie’s fingers a warning squeeze before saying loudly: ‘Ring the bell, my dear. Wasn’t the carol service lovely? But the hall was rather chilly so I shan’t be sorry to get back to our nice warm schoolroom.’

The door opened and Fletcher, tall, stooped, grey-haired and kindly, stood smiling down at them. ‘Did you have a good time, young ladies?’ he asked in his slow, creaking voice. ‘I’ve heard the Boxing Day carol service is always very well attended and generally greatly enjoyed.’

‘Oh, thank you, Fletcher!’ Hester said, smiling up at him. ‘Yes, the carol service was very enjoyable but the hall was rather chilly, so we shall hurry upstairs and get the fire lit, then we can make ourselves a snack and a nice hot cup of tea.’

Fletcher ushered the two girls inside and then said in a lowered voice: ‘Miss Hetherington-Smith and Miss Hutchinson have only just got back themselves, miss. They’re in the drawing room and have ordered sherry before dinner, because Miss Hetherington-Smith was complaining that it was far from warm in the motor, despite the fur rugs. But, miss, as it’s Boxing Day, was you not to dine downstairs? Only there’s a boiled fowl in white sauce, far too much for the two ladies, and you don’t want to go spoiling your appetites with nursery tea if you’re to dine on boiled fowl later.’

Hester paused at the foot of the stairs. ‘Nothing was
said about dining downstairs, Fletcher,’ she assured him. ‘I expect that the remains of the fowl will be eaten cold tomorrow night. But it was kind of you to think of it. Has all gone well in our absence? Mollie took Kitty down to the kitchen, so perhaps we should go straight down there and collect the cat.’

‘Yes, that might be a good idea, miss,’ Fletcher said, looking rather relieved. ‘Mollie’s a good girl but when she gets to playing with the kitten, and Mrs Ainsworth with a dinner to cook … well,’ he chuckled. ‘You might say the fur flies, miss.’

Lonnie giggled. ‘I want to fetch Kitty up to the nursery anyway,’ she observed. ‘I’ve not seen her for ages – it seems like ages, anyway.’

‘I’m sure it does, Miss Leonora,’ Fletcher agreed. ‘And did you enjoy the carol service? I’m told it is usually first-class.’

Lonnie began to speak, then remembered and nodded enthusiastically. ‘It was one of the nicest things I’ve ever been to,’ she said, casting a glance so full of mischief at Hester that the governess had hard work not to smile herself. ‘Come on, Hester. I’d better take Kitty into the garden for a few minutes, in case … you know.’

The two of them hurried down the stairs and into the large basement kitchen to rescue Kitty, who had been penned in with a couple of old fireguards whilst Mrs Ainsworth made chicken liver pâté for a savoury course. Kitty, it seemed, was far too fond of chicken liver to remain meekly on the floor whilst Mrs Ainsworth chopped and mashed, and had persistently leapt on to the kitchen table, causing much hilarity from everyone but the beleaguered cook.

‘She’s kept us all amused, miss, but I don’t deny that the kitchen’s no place for her when it comes
to cookin’ a meal,’ Mrs Ainsworth commented as Lonnie swooped on her pet with loving cries. ‘I’ve put up a plate of scraps, though, so you can take them up wi’ you when you go back to the nursery.’

‘It ain’t the nursery no more, Mrs A,’ Mollie said with a giggle. ‘It’s the schoolroom, ain’t it, Miss Lo … Leonora, I mean.’

Lonnie, carrying her pet out through the back door, agreed that this was so and Hester left her to deal with the kitten whilst she herself took the proffered plate of scraps and began to climb the three flights of stairs which would lead, at last, to the nursery – or schoolroom, she reminded herself drily as she climbed.

In her old domain once more, she decided that as they had eaten so recently she would just prepare a snack for Lonnie and herself. She put the plate of scraps down on the floor for Kitty when she returned, made up the fire, which she had banked up with ash before leaving earlier in the day, and began to cut bread and butter it. There was strawberry jam, a whole jar, and half a jar of apricot, and there was a sizeable piece of Christmas cake which Mrs Ainsworth had sent up the previous day. She checked in the small cupboard where the milk was kept and saw that there was still plenty, both for their tea now and for a hot drink later. Satisfied on that score, she soon had the food prepared and when Lonnie and the kitten returned they sat down to a simple meal.

‘Have a wash and then go straight to bed, Lonnie,’ Hester said as soon as the bread and butter and the cake were no more than a memory. ‘When I think of the tea you ate at that dining room it’s a wonder to me that you could manage another morsel. However, the cold makes one hungrier than usual, I suppose.’

‘You ate all your ham tea when we were with Dick, and now you’ve had three pieces of bread and butter and apricot preserve as well as quite a large slice of cake,’ Lonnie said cheerfully, slipping off her chair. ‘Actually I’m very tired; I don’t mind going to bed early at all.’

As soon as Lonnie was safely tucked up in bed, teeth cleaned, hands and face washed and hair plaited into a long braid, Hester got out the ironing board, set it up before the fire and began on the pile of clothing in the wicker linen basket by her side. She selected a pillowcase with a lace trimming and began to smooth it flat, thinking back with real pleasure over the day that had passed. From the moment that Mr Frost had appeared on their doorstep, the day had begun to glow in Hester’s mind, and she knew that it had been the happiest day she had enjoyed in England so far. Dick, she decided, was a very special person. He seemed the sort of young man who was at ease in any company. Mr Frost seemed a pretty rough diamond but he must be truly fond of Dick to have come seeking her out in her employer’s house. Lonnie thought Dick the nicest of all the Baileys, though she had taken to the whole family, even accepting that Ben was not as black as she had previously painted him.

More important even than the day that had passed, though, were the days ahead. Hester was looking forward eagerly to her next meeting with Dick and even as she thought of it she realised that it was not simply the prospect of a visit to the cinema which was making her heart dance, it was the fact that, for the first time since arriving in England, she had something to look forward to. With Dick a part of her life, if only as a friend, she would be eager for each new day. It was not that she was unhappy with
Lonnie and her work, it was simply that she had no life of her own. When she took Lonnie to the park or the shops she met other young women but since they were mostly nannies or nursemaids they had held back from her, content with the company of their peers, assuming that she, as a governess, would consider them inferior companions. This was not so, but Hester had never bothered to break down the barrier of reserve the other girls had erected, partly because Miss Hetherington-Smith saw to it that she was too busy for social intercourse.

Now, however, things would be different. Hester did not intend to ask Miss Hetherington-Smith for time off at first She meant to arrange for Molly to come up to the schoolroom next Thursday with a pile of ironing which she could do whilst keeping a weather eye on young Lonnie. If she and Dick enjoyed their outing – and she had little doubt that they would do so – then she thought that she might suggest another evening entertainment or two before taking the plunge of telling her employer that she meant to take Miss Leonora out somewhere on a Sunday afternoon. Thinking it over, as she worked her way through the sheets and pillowcases, she decided that Miss Hetherington-Smith would probably quite enjoy a respite from her niece’s company on a Sunday afternoon, for though Leonora was always careful not to try her aunt’s patience too far, she found it amusing to skate around the thin ice of her aunt’s displeasure, pretending to mis-hear questions, answering in an ambiguous manner, and generally behaving in such a way that Hester herself – and probably Lonnie’s aunt – were secretly relieved when such sessions were over.

And when I’ve got her used to the idea that Lonnie
and I need a little time to ourselves on a Sunday, then I shall explain that I have discovered everyone else of my acquaintance has at least a half day and a couple of evenings off each week, Hester planned busily, skilfully edging the iron around the buttons of Lonnie’s frilly white blouse. I shall tell her I now have friends in my profession – she smiled at the choice of word – and need to see them socially sometimes in order to keep up with current trends. Hester laid the little blouse over the back of a chair and picked up the next garment. Suddenly she was full of optimism. Surely Miss Hetherington-Smith would realise that everyone, from the highest to the lowest, should have a little time to themselves? It was not as if whichever maid who sat upstairs in the nursery would be idling their time away for, as Miss Hetherington-Smith had pointed out, silver cutlery could be cleaned, brass ornaments polished and table linen patched and mended while one was sitting by the fire in the evening. It was true that Hester herself performed a good number of these tasks but she knew that neither Mollie, Maud or Edith would object to doing them in her place while seated cosily by the schoolroom fire with the kettle hopping on the hob and a tin of fancy biscuits to hand. For her part, Hester was happy to spend some of her salary on tea and biscuits for the other maids if it meant that she might have a couple of evenings off each week.

The pile of ironed linen had grown considerably and Hester’s shoulders were beginning to ache, reminding her that the day had been a long one and it was high time she took herself off to her own bed. She ironed the last garment, a petticoat of her own, unplugged the iron and stood it on the side of the fender to cool, and went through to check on Lonnie.
The child was fast asleep with her thumb in her mouth and her old rag doll, Jenny, clasped in her arm. Kitty, as usual, had abandoned her basket as soon as Hester had left the room and was curled up against the curve of Lonnie’s tummy. Hester leaned over the bed, careful not to disturb the kitten, and gently removed Lonnie’s thumb, scarlet from sucking. It remained on the pillow for perhaps ten seconds before Lonnie popped it back into her mouth once more and Hester, smiling and shaking her head, went off to her own room. She was well aware that if Miss Hetherington-Smith knew her niece sucked her thumb there would be trouble, but since her employer had never yet mounted the stairs to the nursery floor there seemed little fear of discovery. Children, Hester concluded as she undressed, sometimes needed the comfort of thumb-sucking whilst they accustomed themselves to a new situation. In time, her charge would stop sucking her thumb naturally. Hester stood in front of her small mirror and unpinned her hair from the bun which she wore during the day. She brushed the long rippling length of it, enjoying the feel as it swirled well below elbow length. Her father had never approved of short hair for women and Hester was glad that fashion seemed to be turning away from bobs and shingles to a softer, more feminine look. When the brush had performed the necessary one hundred strokes, she plaited her hair into its bedtime braid and climbed between the sheets. What a lovely day it had been, she mused. And there would be lovely days to come. Even if she and Dick were only to be friends, her life was bound to become more interesting as a result. But she acknowledged now that the little leap her heart gave whenever she thought of him augured well for their
future relationship. She lay for a little while reliving her day once again until sleep overcame her.