by Daisy Styles
‘Hello, I’m Bella Wells.’ She winked as she caught Ruby’s amused expression. ‘I’ve brought my ration book,’ she added politely.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Ava, taking it. ‘Thanks for dropping this off ‒ the more the merrier!’
Bella turned curiously towards the scrubbed wooden kitchen table where Maudie was pounding dough.
‘Hello, again,’ she said with an easy smile. ‘What’re you making?’
Maudie wiped a speck of flour off her nose and replied, ‘Rye bread.’
Bella smiled. ‘It smells good.’ She sniffed appreciatively. ‘Where did you learn to bake rye bread?’
‘In my parents’ bakery in the East End of London,’ Maudie replied, with undisguised pride.
‘S’cuse me, miss,’ said Ruby, as she hurried by with a heavy tray.
Bella quickly corrected her. ‘It’s Bella, Ruby. Please forget the “Miss” bit.’ She held out her hands. ‘Here, let me take that, you’ve got more than enough to do.’
Ruby didn’t argue. ‘Ta, Bella,’ she chuckled.
Bella also chuckled as she carried the tray upstairs. If only her mother could see her now!
Over tea, which was noisy with the chatter and laughter of twenty-five women, Bella introduced herself as a late-comer local girl. She made a point of asking her companions about their families and their lives prior to arriving at Walsingham Hall. She’d learnt from experience that people liked to talk about themselves, which suited her, as she definitely didn’t want to talk about herself or her family!
Throughout tea, Bella was aware of Ruby, Maudie and Ava coming and going, carrying huge teapots and urns of hot water.
‘Poor things, they’ve got a lot on their plates,’ she thought sympathetically.
The girls below stairs worked far longer hours than the code girls above stairs. Their day could be anything from fifteen to eighteen hours long. Maudie even set an alarm clock to wake her up in the middle of the night to put a batch of risen bread into the oven so it was cooked and ready for breakfast.
On top of the cooking, serving and clearing away, the three girls slavishly worked their way through the set menus, which, out of boredom, they had started to vary.
‘I’ll go mad if I have to look at another bloody Lord Woolton pie,’ Ava joked.
They really appreciated Peter’s daily offerings, which greatly enhanced their larder, especially when he turned up with the odd treat of seasonal game: hare, rabbit, pigeon, sometimes pheasant. Although Ava and Maudie were squeamish about the plucking and skinning ‒ they left it to Ruby and Peter ‒ they were clever and inventive with the meat, making tasty stews thickened with root vegetables and Oxo, or casseroles with herb dumplings, and the game stock made a rich broth.
Ava’s big grocery order was delivered every week: tins of corned beef, Spam, beans and peas; bags of flour, sugar, salt and dried pulses. Everything had to be unpacked and stored away in the warren of cupboards and pantries below stairs. One morning, as Ava headed to one of store rooms, she tripped over a mountain of laundry that had been carelessly dumped outside the laundry room, which housed washing dollies, washboards, tin baths, wooden tubs, wringers and a boiler that only Ruby could coax into life.
‘Who’s put this lot here?’ Ava exclaimed.
‘Me,’ Timms replied, as she dropped another dirty load. ‘The woman who’s been doing the washing has been taken into hospital.’
‘But …’ Ava retorted, flabbergasted. ‘I’m a cook not a washerwoman!’
‘Cleaning goes on below stairs, your domain!’ said Timms, with an ill-disguised smile.
Ava didn’t waste her breath on peevish Timms. Instead, she went straight away to see the ‘Brig’, as everybody below stairs now called the brigadier.
‘Sorry to bother you, sir, but Timms has decided the below-stairs staff are responsible for the laundry as well as everything else. We really haven’t got the time to wash and iron and cook.’
‘I never expected you to do the laundry, Ava!’ the Brig exclaimed in astonishment.
Ava sighed with relief. She really was beginning to like this man, who, above all things, was fair. Thinking of her fury when she first met him, Ava smiled to herself; how wrong first impressions can be.
‘Ignore Timms,’ the Brig answered brusquely. ‘I’ll deal with her.’
‘With pleasure, but what about the laundry?’ Ava laughingly replied.
‘I’ll get some of the local estate women to do it,’ he replied. ‘I’m told there’s plenty of them eager to make a few extra bob or two.’
Ava returned to the kitchen wearing a triumphant smile. ‘The laundry’s being sent out,’ she announced.
‘Where’s that?’ Ruby asked naïvely.
‘Anywhere but here!’ laughed Maudie.
‘Thank God!’ cried Ruby.
Leaving Maudie in the kitchen making a gigantic apple strudel, Ava and Ruby cleared away the remains of lunch to the strains of ‘Workers’ Playtime’ blasting out on the Bakelite radio. Ruby stopped wiping down the tables when she saw through an open window an RAF jeep bouncing up the drive.
‘Looks like an officer’s heading into the west wing,’ she remarked.
Ava peered out of the window, too.
‘There must be so many men at Holkham airfield,’ she said wistfully. ‘You’d think they’d organize a dance night every so often.’
‘I’ve never heard of anything like that going on up there,’ Ruby replied as she resumed wiping the table-tops. ‘Anyway, RAF officers aren’t likely to fancy lowly scullery maids.’
Ava held her right hand up in the air. ‘Stop right there, Ruby Marsden!’ she declared. ‘I might be a cook below stairs but I’m a woman with a brain and a mind of my own, and I don’t like being done down by my own sex. If this rotten war’s taught us anything, it’s that women can and have stepped into men’s shoes to do jobs nobody five years ago would have thought possible. As Maudie would say, “We’re all equal!” ’
Ruby giggled as she replied, ‘Sorry, Ava, I’m just learning how to be – thanks to you two.’
Ava threw a dishcloth at Ruby, as she said, ‘You’re beautiful enough for any RAF officer, Ruby. Never forget that.’
Ruby blushed, but she looked pleased by Ava’s compliment.
Less than half an hour later, a shy young man came hesitantly into the kitchen.
‘’Scuse me, please,’ he mumbled self-consciously. ‘I am Polish driver from airfield. My officer in bed here sent me for food.’
Maudie and Ava smiled, not unkindly, at his grammatical mistakes, which Ruby seemed oblivious of. Gazing raptly at the tall, pale-haired young man with shy blue eyes, she asked, ‘Did they send you down for sandwiches?’
The young man’s smooth brow crinkled in concentration as he laboriously translated what she’d said.
‘Sandvitches … yes! They ask for these things.’
He smiled nervously at Ruby, who pointed to a chair beside the big wooden table.
‘You sit, and I make sandvitches.’
Hearing Ruby speaking pidgin English to the Polish driver sent Ava and Maudie rushing into the pantry, where, covering their mouths, they rocked with laughter.
‘Did she really say “sandvitches”?’ Maudie tittered.
‘Let’s stay out of the way,’ Maudie whispered. ‘If we start giggling, we’ll only embarrass the poor boy.’
Chatting in pidgin English to the young man who was called Rafal, Ruby made a pile of sandwiches, which she handed over to him.
‘Come back here, to me,’ she said, pointing to herself. ‘I make sandvitches for you to eat!’
Rafal looked blank but nodded politely, then, with a grateful smile, he made his way upstairs. Ruby waited ten minutes and, when he didn’t return, she hurried to the front door, from where she saw Rafal climbing into the jeep.
‘No!’ she yelled, and ran out on to the drive, where she flagged down the jeep.
Rafal turned off the ignition and got out. Takin
g him firmly by the hand, Ruby led him back to the kitchen, where she put a plate of sandwiches and a pot of coffee before him.
‘Enjoy!’ Ruby said kindly.
‘For me, driver?’ he asked incredulously.
‘Yes, for you!’ she giggled.
Rafal grinned, then enthusiastically started on the sandwiches.
‘Good, very good,’ he said, as he admired her small, shapely figure and the swing of her long, bobbed hair. ‘Thank you.’
Ruby gazed into his wide, innocent eyes. ‘You’re more than welcome,’ she replied with a warm smile.
8. Call the Vet
Though she was rushed off her feet, Ava really missed Shamrock and the rides they’d had over the Lancashire moors. It wasn’t as if she had any free time at Walsingham Hall or, even more to the point, a horse to ride ‒ she simply missed the exercise and the unforgettable smell of the stables: saddle soap, hay, leather, grooming brushes and oats! It was exactly that combination of smells that attracted Ava to the Walsingham stables shortly after she arrived at the hall; the aroma of straw and horse muck drew her like a magnet!
When she entered the airy stables, still wearing her cook’s uniform, she was greeted by a tubby little Shetland pony and a handsome chestnut, both of whom popped their heads over their stable doors and neighed softly.
‘Hello, lasses,’ a delighted Ava said gently, as she reached into her pinafore pocket for the apples she’d brought along with her. ‘Who are you, greedy guts?’ she went on, as the Shetland bit into the apple cradled in her palm. ‘Sorry, I can see you’re not a lass.’ Ava chuckled as she peered over the stable door and saw that the handsome chestnut was indeed a gelding.
Later, she discovered from Ruby that the Shetland was called Tara and the gelding Lucas. Ruby also told her that all the Walsingham children had been taught to ride on Tara.
‘Lady Annabelle and Lord Edward lost interest when they got into their teens, but Lady Diana enjoyed hunting ‒ well, she enjoyed meeting the lords and ladies of the county in the saddle,’ Ruby added with a cheeky wink. ‘So his lordship bought Lucas for her, but she hasn’t ridden him for years. Shame, he’s a fine hunter. He’s wasted these days, with nobody to exercise him.’
‘I’d willingly exercise him in my spare time,’ Ava immediately responded.
‘What spare time?’ mocked Maudie.
‘I’m sure I could snatch a few hours a week to ride – if I was allowed to.’ Ava’s face fell, and she shook her head. ‘Forget it, I can’t see Lady Diana doing me any favours, though I feel sorry for that fine chestnut of hers.’
Nevertheless, Ava was a frequent visitor to the stables, and the paddock, too, where the horses were turned out every morning in the summertime. One afternoon, after clearing lunch and leaving Ruby and Maudie preparing tea, Ava dashed across to the yard to give the horses their daily treat. They’d only to see her approaching and they’d toss their heads and neigh excitedly. Greedy Tara thrust her muzzle in Ava’s pinafore pocket, while well-mannered Lucas stayed back until Ava held out his apple on the palm of her hand for him to bite into. One day, seeing Lucas’s mane knotted and tangled, Ava collected a dandy brush and a currie comb from the stable, then spent half an hour brushing and combing his golden mane until it glowed.
‘Aren’t you the handsome boy?’ she whispered.
As she swept the dandy brush in wide, even strokes across Lucas’s flanks, the horse snickered softly.
‘Oh, this is nice,’ Ava sighed, laying her head against his warm chest and inhaling the sweet smell of his body.
Lucas bent to gently blow into her dark hair, which billowed out as she resumed grooming him. Drawing the dandy brush back and forth across Lucas’s withers, Ava got so into the rhythm of the process she hardly heard the sound of a car drawing up. Lucas did, though, and his sharp neigh quickly brought Ava to her senses. She looked up as a Land Rover came bouncing down the track leading to the paddock, then stopped by the five-bar gate. When a tall young man got out, the horses tossed their heads in excitement.
‘Hello, there!’ he called to them.
Ava felt silly wearing her servant’s pinafore, and with her dark hair falling untidily around her shoulders, her first reaction was to run, but the tall, good-looking stranger blocked her path by standing close to the fence in order to pat the necks of the eager horses.
‘All right, all right,’ he said softly, and reached into the top pocket of his open-necked shirt and drew out some mints. ‘One each and no more,’ he said with a smile.
Ava couldn’t help smiling, too; she was almost as taken as the horses by the handsome man with a mop of thick, tawny hair and warm, hazel eyes.
‘They never believe a word I say,’ he said, as he indulgently fed all the mints to the horses. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, turning to Ava with a wide, relaxed smile. ‘I haven’t introduced myself.’ He held out his hand to her. ‘I’m Tom Benson, the local vet. Pleased to meet you.’
Ava took his warm, tanned hand in hers. ‘Ava Downham,’ she replied, then, in order to explain the servant’s uniform, she added with a shrug, ‘Cook at the hall.’
Tom’s eyes widened in surprise, ‘What happened to Timms?’
‘She’s still there – unfortunately!’
‘So how long have you been at the hall?’
‘I can’t recall exactly; it feels like for ever.’ Ava laughed.
Tara and Lucas, cross that they were being ignored by their visitors, started to stamp their feet and whinny impatiently.
‘OK, OK,’ said Tom.
As he unhooked the gate and walked into the paddock, Ava noticed he walked with a distinct limp. ‘I’ve got to check Tara’s feet and give her an injection,’ Tom said. ‘Would you mind holding her for me?’
Even though she knew she should be setting the tables in the dining room by now, Ava nevertheless clipped a lead rope to Tara’s halter and stroked the impatient mare as Tom bent to pick out her hooves.
‘She likes you,’ he said, without looking up.
Watching Tom kneeling on the warm grass just inches away from her, Ava had an irrepressible urge to run her fingertips through the shock of golden-auburn hair which fell over his eyes. She started self-consciously when Tom stood up and stretched his long, muscular back.
‘Do you ride?’ he asked.
‘I did when I lived at home, in Lancashire.’
‘I thought you didn’t sound like a local,’ he said, taking a syringe out of his bag. ‘Just got to give Tara a shot in her bottom. Hold still, old lady,’ he said, and patted Tara’s flank, then gently inserted the needle into her hefty rump. ‘All done.’
Ava handed him the halter rope. ‘I’d best get back to the kitchen,’ she said, feeling a blush rising from her neck upwards.
‘That’s a shame,’ said Tom, as he took the rope from her rather shaky hand. To Ava’s astonishment, he suddenly said, ‘Would you like to come for a ride on Holkham beach tomorrow?’
‘I’d love to, if only I had a horse,’ she replied with a smile.
‘There’s Lucas ‒ he’d love the exercise.’
Ava shook her head. ‘I can’t do that. He belongs to Lady Diana.’
‘Who’s asked me to exercise him,’ Tom replied. ‘You’d be doing both me and Lucas a favour.’
Wide-eyed, Ava looked from gorgeous Tom to gorgeous Lucas; this really was an offer she couldn’t refuse.
‘Well, if you put it like that.’
Tom grinned. ‘Good! Two o’clock, here, tomorrow?’
Ava panicked. Two o’clock was the time she was usually prepping supper.
‘Er, how about three?’
‘You’re on!’ laughed Tom.
Ava literally erupted into the kitchen, where, in front of her startled friends, she flung her arms in the air and shimmied around the kitchen.
‘Have you been on the bottle?’ Ruby teased.
‘I’ve just met the vet!’ Ava replied.
‘Tom Benson?’ Ruby asked.
A
va nodded. ‘He’s very nice, good-looking, too ‒ spoken for, no doubt.’
Ruby’s brow crinkled as she answered, ‘As I recall, I think he probably is.’
Ava’s heart sank. ‘Stupid me!’ she thought. There were hardly any young men around, they were all away fighting the war; of course a good-looking man like Tom Benson would have a girlfriend, if not a string of them.
‘Well, that’s awkward,’ she said with a shrug. ‘He’s just asked me to go horse riding with him tomorrow.’
‘Horse riding, by definition, must classify more as a date with the horse rather than the bloke. After all, it’s the horse you’re sitting on!’ Maudie joked.
Ava giggled as she replied. ‘I am definitely not giving up my date with Lucas; he’s my total dream boy!’
In between clearing tea and serving supper, Ava worried about leaving her friends in the lurch.
‘I’ll only go if I’ve finished all my work,’ she assured them.
‘You sound like Cinderella,’ teased Maudie. ‘You shall go to the ball, but only after you’ve made breakfast, lunch and supper – and swept the chimney!’
‘You must go to the ball,’ Ruby declared. ‘It’s about time we all started having a bit of fun!’
The next morning, Ava was first up and busy making pastry for the cheese-and-tomato flans.
‘Guess what day it is,’ she laughed, as her friends entered the kitchen.
Ruby and Maudie looked at the ingredients on the table-top.
‘If it’s cheese and tomato, it’s Thursday!’ Ruby laughed, too.
‘Lucky for me Maudie’s the apple-strudel maker today,’ Ava said, now lining metal tins with pastry, then cracking eggs into a bowl of milk. ‘Pass me the whisk, lovie,’ she said to Maudie, who was standing closest to the long row of hooks from which numerous kitchen utensils dangled. ‘I’ve already made the mock turkey salad for teatime. It’s on the cold slab in the pantry.’
‘You’re ahead of yourself,’ said Maudie.
‘I have to be,’ said Ava, as she busily whisked the egg-and-milk mixture. ‘I want to give Lucas a good grooming before Tom arrives.’
‘You might need grooming yourself if you carry on slopping stuff about,’ Maudie teased, as a blob of egg yolk splashed up into Ava’s face. ‘Here, let me,’ she said, relieving Ava of the whisk. ‘Grate the cheese, and mind your fingers!’
