A Corner of My Heart

by Mark Seaman

  “Nothing, honest. Like I said yesterday he just wanted to talk about what happens when the new baby arrives and to know if I was still getting on alright with Elizabeth and Mrs Taylor, which I am.” I looked at Nelly and could see she was about to ask another question. “I’m sure he did the same with you when you’d first been here for a while,” I said, jumping in and hoping to deflect her thoughts from pressing me further. Nelly smiled as she set her glass of water on the table.

  “Like I told you on the day you arrived, Mr T hasn’t really said two words to me apart from do this or do that since I’ve been here. He’s a bit of a cold fish Mrs D says, same as her old man I reckon. They both think they’re something special, although I’d never say that to Mrs D ’cause she’s smashing she is, deserves better than him. I mean I’m sorry his business failed and all that, but he should think himself lucky that he got taken on here and that he’s still working. And he should be thanking Mrs D for putting his name forward when she did instead of moaning at her sometimes that he deserves better. We all deserve better, but you still need to say thank you for what you got, ‘cause there’s plenty outside who’d bite our hands off for these jobs and to work with people as lovely as Mrs D and Mrs T.”

  I sat listening in astonishment at Nelly’s outburst. I’d never heard her speak out in that way before and told her as much, laughing as I did so. I was also grateful that the conversation appeared to have moved away from my own dilemma.

  “Flippin’ heck, Nelly, I’ve never heard you say so much in one go before. “ We smiled at each other both recognising the bond of friendship that was growing between us. Here was another person I knew I could trust and who would sympathise with me if I dared speak out about my conversation with Mr Taylor. But I also knew she would feel bound to say something on my behalf if I did as a way of fighting my corner, and that was something I simply could not risk happening for so many reasons, certainly for now.

  “I’ve got plenty to say when the mood takes me,” Nelly continued. “Its just that it don’t take me that often, and like I say I’m happier to count my blessings and see the good in people rather than tell them what I really think, well at least to their face anyway.”

  She squeezed my arm and smiled. “I’m glad you’re here, Ruth, it’s like I’ve got a real friend now, and I haven’t had one of them for a while, not a real friend anyway, if you know what I mean?”

  I smiled back at her although struggling at the same time to agree with her statement about seeing the good in others, especially our employer. Indeed, at that moment I found it almost impossible to find any good in him at all, let alone seek to bless him.

  I really liked Nelly and, as with Mrs Taylor, felt saddened that I couldn’t share my secret with her, but I also didn’t want her worrying about something that, for now at least, didn’t physically concern her. I also didn’t want to give myself, or Nelly, the added complication that if I did say something and she then spoke out on my behalf it would cause even greater consternation for all concerned, perhaps even placing her own future and employment under threat as well as my own. I knew I couldn’t risk that for either of us. Much as I was desperate to share my story with someone, I decided, for now at least, it had to remain my secret. Who knows, if I did perhaps allow myself a generous thought towards Mr Taylor then just maybe he might also reconsider his own position and in so doing not only regret what he had said to me yesterday and apologise, but also agree never to bring up that hateful conversation between us again. Somehow, much as I prayed that one or both of these outcomes might be realised, I couldn’t escape the feeling deep inside that the eventual conclusion to our next meeting would be very different and far less agreeable.

  Mr Taylor arrived home just as his wife was about to leave for her afternoon appointment with her friends. “Have a nice time dear.” I smiled at him politely and handed Mrs Taylor her umbrella as she made her way towards the front door. He kissed her lightly on the cheek, allowing his hand to run down the full length of her back as she walked away. She turned, offering him a look of love and familiarity that I recognised immediately for what it was, a shared moment of marital intimacy. I had witnessed similar acts of devotion between my own parents, growing up in a home where open displays of affection were common place. However, on this occasion it was being extended as an act of absolute yet unwarranted faith towards a man who was intending to break that bond of trust completely by committing the ultimate betrayal, adultery. She clearly adored him. If only she knew.

  He appeared so calm and caring I could hardly believe this was the same man who had spoken to me in such a demeaning and unforgiving way only twenty four hours before. As the front door closed he turned and looked straight at me, his expression changing to one of steely determination and authority.

  “I think we can dispense with the pot of tea today, Ruth. Follow me into my study, please.” I felt my body shudder, partly from fear but also from my growing resolve to stand up for myself and for what I knew to be right.

  He entered the room before me. “Close the door behind you.” He moved to his desk and opening the lid of a silver cigarette box picked one up and rolled it between his fingers before raising it to his lips and lighting it. He took a deep draw and then turning his head to one side exhaled a large cloud of smoke.

  “I trust you have thought long and hard about my proposal, Ruth?”

  I stood rooted to the spot, attempting to exude an air of confidence I knew didn’t exist as I felt my legs shaking almost uncontrollably beneath my skirt. I coughed lightly to clear my throat and took a deep breath. “I have thought of little else. I have also decided not to speak to Mrs Taylor about our conversation.”

  He took another draw on his cigarette and smiled, wrongly assuming the fight had gone from within me and that he had won the first round in our battle of wills.

  “Good girl, I knew you’d see sense.”

  I felt my back stiffen and shudder as I continued, clenching my fists so hard I could feel the nails pushing into my skin.

  “I will also not be party to the proposal you made yesterday under any circumstances. Nor will I amend my duties to include anything other than those already stated in my contract and previously agreed between Mrs Taylor and myself.”

  I kept my eyes fixed on him in the vain hope he might detect some form of resolute determination and associated authority in my shaky demeanour.

  “What you are asking me to do is both unreasonable and illegal.” I could feel my stomach churning as I took another deep breath. “As nothing has actually happened yet between us and for the sake of Elizabeth and Mrs Taylor I think it best if we both agree to forget our earlier conversation. I also suggest that apart from those occasions when we are physically required to be in each others company we should avoid all other forms of contact between us.” I could hardly believe I had been able to say all that I had intended so clearly and concisely feeling as nervous as I did and with my whole body now beginning to quake. I felt a bead of sweat breakout on my forehead as I waited for his reply. He stood quite still and took two or three deliberate draws on his cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray. He slowly raised his head and looked at me, his face showing no sign of emotion.

  “That was quite a speech, Ruth, and though I applaud its succinct delivery I am sorry you’ve come to that decision. I was rather hoping you might see things differently.” He paused and took a step towards me.

  “Perhaps I should remind you once again of the alternative scenario I spelt out to you so clearly at our last meeting should you continue to reject my proposal.”

  I stood in front of him unwavering in my determination not to buckle as I waited for whatever it was he would say next. Part of me wanted to turn around and leave the room there and then having said what I had wanted, secure in the knowledge that anything he was about to add in reply was extremely unlikely to improve the situation between us or heal our relationshi
p. I knew that morally I had every right to walk away but the fact still remained that Mr Taylor was my employer and as such I was required to demonstrate a degree of respect towards him as head of the house, something I was finding it increasingly hard to do. My mind struggled to make sense of this apparent piece of perverse logic, with my having no real idea as to why I should trust and obey these feelings of obdurate loyalty to a man who had proven himself to be both shameful and dishonourable in his attitude towards me. Taking another step towards me and glancing at his watch he continued.

  “To be honest with you, Ruth, I had half anticipated your reply and continued protestations to my suggestion. So, with that in mind allow me to add some additional detail to the outline of the alternative proposal we discussed yesterday. Can I further suggest you consider what I am about to say very seriously before making your final, and potentially very costly decision?” He stood quite still about three paces in front of me. I could feel the sweat of fear and anger running down my back as I struggled to decide whether to listen to what he was about to say or just slap him across the face and walk away. I hastily chose the former, reasoning just as quickly that whilst the alternative would satisfy my inner rage momentarily, the hurt inflicted on myself and others would, in the longer term, be far greater than the fleeting sting of pain in my hand caused by the slap to his face.

  There was a brief yet deafening silence between us as we both stood our ground, each staring hard at the other. It felt as if we were two gladiators awaiting the next move of our opponent and deciding how best to respond and strike back at their foe. In truth I felt nothing like a gladiator, more like the innocent Christian standing before a lion poised to inflict the fatal blow. In an effort not to portray this inner fear I looked deep into his eyes refusing to alter my gaze. I told myself whatever he was about to say could never be as bad as what I, and so many others, had endured under the fanatical rule of the guards in the death camp at Birkenau. Even with this thought rooted firmly in the forefront of my mind I still felt a rising sense of fear move within me as I prepared myself for whatever it was he was about to say. I couldn’t believe that less than twenty-four hours earlier I had considered myself to be one of the luckiest young women alive, holding down a job that I loved and working for a family I was becoming more and more drawn towards in my affections. I had even allowed myself the luxury of thinking they might feel the same way about me. And yet, here I was less than a day later not only being verbally abused by one of the very people I had come to care for, and more importantly trust, but now facing the very real threat of him seeking to carry out acts of both physical and sexual violence against me.

  Mr Taylor took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as if considering his next response. I sensed a small degree of nervousness in his bearing and body language. Had I scared him off, or was he about to suggest something so awful that the prospect of it becoming a reality was proving a little unnerving even to him?

  “As we discussed yesterday, and as you are fully aware, my wife has an attractive and, also rather expensive collection of jewellery. She has told me that on occasion she has allowed you to try on one or two of the pieces for yourself when you have been helping her to dress for a particular event or function that we were to attend, isn’t that so?”

  After a short silence and with my mind racing to make sense of the point he was making I replied nervously. “Yes that’s true. Your wife is a very beautiful lady and fortunate to have so many lovely things.” There was another awkward pause. I bit hard into my lip determined not to speak again until I was sure as to where this conversation was headed, but already fearing the worst.

  “Do you have any jewellery yourself, Ruth?”

  “No sir. Sadly, any that our family had was removed from our belongings on our arrival in Birkenau along with my mother’s wedding ring which was taken at the same time.” The empathy and compassion he and Mrs Taylor had demonstrated towards me when I first recounted my story about life in Birkenau shortly after my arrival in their home was now missing entirely from both his tone and demeanour as he continued.

  “My wife is very careful in looking after her jewellery as you know. Indeed, some of the more expensive pieces are held here in this room in a small safe I have, only being brought out for special occasions.” He paused for a moment, putting his hand into his jacket and taking out a cigarette case from the inside breast pocket.

  Carefully taking a cigarette from it with one hand he closed the case with the other and slid it back into his jacket pocket.

  “Helen mentioned to me that you had commented on how much you liked the particular pair of diamond earrings she had worn recently to the Lord Mayor’s Ball. We spoke about that yesterday, if you remember?” I still wasn’t sure as to the intended outcome of his story but did recall those particular earrings as they were similar in style to a pair my mother had owned when I was younger. They had been nowhere near as valuable of course with the stones in my mother’s earrings not being real diamonds as they were in Mrs Taylor’s.

  “Yes, they are very beautiful and looked lovely on her.” I remembered how my mother had let me try hers on once, but they had slipped from my ear when the clasp loosened and had fallen to the floor. She picked them up and placed them back in her jewellery box until my father was able to get them repaired. I told Mr Taylor I had mentioned this to his wife on the day she prepared to leave for the Ball and that she had been generous in allowing me to hold hers to my ear for a moment. He smiled and, lighting his cigarette, took another step towards me. He leant forward, his face now so close to my own I could smell the tobacco on his breath as he exhaled deliberately into my face which caused me to blink as the smoke stung my eyes. Making no apology for his action he stood up straight again and watched as I wiped an involuntary tear from my eye.

  “That’s right. Helen also mentioned that story to me on our way to the Ball.” He grinned, clearly relishing his part in our discussion. “She told me how she felt sorry for you and wished there was more we could do for you, such was her concern and liking for you.” He took another deliberate draw on his cigarette and continued. “The thing is, Ruth; my wife is very fond of those earrings. As I said earlier they hold special memories for both of us: I bought them for her on our second wedding anniversary.” He paused as if recalling the event. “Also, to celebrate my becoming manager of the first international trading branch of the bank here in London. It was quite a promotion as you can no doubt imagine.” He paused again as if allowing the full impact of what he had said and was about to propose to sink in.

  “As I intimated to you yesterday, should those earrings go missing both my wife and I would be devastated. And of course there is also the monetary value to be considered as well.” He took another draw on his cigarette. “Can you imagine how she, indeed we, would feel should we discover they had been stolen?” My heart sank as I dared to fear what he was about to say.

  “Who on earth would want steal them?” A sudden rush of anxiety gripped me as I began to comprehend the full potential of what he was alluding to.

  “Well that’s the thing, Ruth, you see it could only be someone who has access to both my wife’s room and to her personal belongings, because at all other times they would be locked here in the safe along with anything else of value. So clearly it would have to be someone we both trusted. How else would they know the earrings were in her room and not locked away here in the safe?” He walked to his desk and put out his cigarette in the ash tray. Then, turning back towards me and clearly relishing the moment, he continued.

  “Now if I were a policeman I would want to interview all the household staff, including poor Nelly of course. Sadly, she would now come under suspicion herself because she also has the same regular access to her employer’s dressing room as you do.”

  He stood for a moment as if to collect his thoughts, then continuing to play the role of would be detective he took a step towards me. “However, and as
we would have to point out to the investigating officer, Nelly has never been afforded any of the privileges that my wife has seen fit to bestow on you, especially with regards to allowing her the same direct access to her jewellery and other treasured possessions, and certainly not with the same freedom of access that you have enjoyed. And it’s difficult also to forget the added significance as far as you’re concerned when further considering your own mother’s earrings and how much they meant to you.”

  I moved to interrupt now fully cognisant as to where this conversation was headed.

  “Mr Taylor if you think for one minute I could…” He put his hand up to silence me.

  “We would of course speak up for you as best we could, Ruth. But, bearing in mind your past and the awful things you have experienced it wouldn’t be unreasonable to suppose that for a moment perhaps, no matter how brief, you had taken leave of your senses and…”

  It was my turn to interrupt. “If you honestly think for one minute I could, or would, ever take advantage of the warmth and affection Mrs Taylor has shown towards me then, with all due respect sir it must be you who has taken leave of their senses.” He stood motionless in front of me, as if stunned by the directness of my reply. Then, and quite deliberately he smiled at me again.

  “But what about the evidence, Ruth my dear? What about the evidence?”

  My mind was racing, trying to assimilate exactly what it was we were now discussing. What evidence was he alluding to? Come to that, what crime was he alluding to?

  Was I really to be accused of stealing Mrs Taylor’s earrings when we both knew those self same earrings were locked away in his safe?

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand when you ask about the evidence. What evidence are you talking about?” Before he could answer I spoke again. “Actually, Mr Taylor, I’m not even sure of the crime you are talking about? We both know that your wife’s earrings are securely locked away here in your study, you told me that just a few minutes ago?”