by Rose Meddon
Nurse Hammond, though, sounded calm. ‘She’s young. Her bones are still forming. There’s really no reason to think that, even should they prove to be fractured, they won’t heal just fine. If I believe the situation warrants it, we’ll take her to a hospital and get them set properly by a doctor so as to reduce the chance of them ending up crooked.’
‘Crooked?’ Flushing even hotter, she reached to the draining board. Naomi wouldn’t just be cross, she would never forgive her. Feeling completely helpless, she turned back. ‘What can I do? Should I go and hail a cab? Should we go to the hospital anyway? St. Mary’s is close by…’
Although Esme was still howling, Nurse Hammond shook her head. ‘No, not yet. There might be no need—’
But then, without warning, Esme fell silent, her head flopping backwards and her arms falling limply by her sides.
‘Wh–What’s happened?’ Kate stammered, staring down at the little girl’s lifeless form. ‘She… she… she looks like she’s…’
‘It’s all right,’ Nurse Hammond reassured her, moving to support Esme’s neck. ‘She’s simply cried herself into a faint. It happens more often than you might think, such prolonged sobbing more than capable of interrupting the breathing of a small child. Prolonged temper tantrums can give rise to the same thing.’
With that, Esme opened her eyes and, unblinking, stared ahead. Then she started to whimper, seemingly unaware that anything had happened.
‘Oh, thank God!’
‘She’ll be all right now,’ Nurse Hammond said, moving to lift Esme from the floor. ‘Making this a good time for us to get her up to the drawing room. Once there, I’ll give her something to make her sleep – something very mild. Then, as soon as she comes over drowsy, I shall examine her fingers and decide what needs to be done.’
‘Can you manage her on your own?’ Kate asked as Nurse Hammond started to carry Esme through the kitchen and towards the stairs.
‘Just fine, dear. After Lieutenant Russell, she’s as light as a feather.’
‘Praise be to God you were here,’ Kate mumbled, feeling light-headed from the surging of relief. ‘Lord only knows how I should have managed had I been on my own.’
And heaven only knew what Naomi was going to say when she got home, either. But, for the moment, she wouldn’t think about that. For now, she would only consider Esme – and how best to help Nurse Hammond ensure that she was all right.
* * *
‘You let her do what?’
When Naomi returned from her trip to the jeweller’s – her parcel wrapped and tied with satin ribbon – Esme was asleep on the sofa, the fingers of her left hand bound together, her eyelids swollen, her pale face blotched with pink.
Despite the myriad possible explanations that had been running through her head for the last couple of hours, Kate knew that she had to be honest.
‘I was letting her help me with the laundry.’
‘You let her play with the mangle?’
‘No, of course I didn’t!’ she hissed angrily, her voice lowered so as not to disturb the sleeping child. When she reached to take Naomi’s arm, though, intending that they continue their conversation out in the hallway, Naomi shrank away from her.
‘Then what, pray tell me, were you letting her do?’
‘I…’ Oh, dear Lord, this was even worse than she had feared. ‘I was holding her hand on the winder and we were turning it round. She was watching the water coming out and laughing at it. Then Nurse Hammond called to me about something. Next thing I know, Esme was screaming. Somehow, she’d got her fingers trapped between the rollers. I think she must have—’
‘You think? You’re telling me that you couldn’t even see her – that you hadn’t even kept your eye on her? For heaven’s sake, Kate, she’s a child. What did you think was going to happen – that she would just stand there like a statue and not move?’
‘I didn’t—’
‘You didn’t think! No, that much is plain. And now she’s hurt. Scarred, possibly for the rest of her life.’
This time it was Kate’s turn to shrink back. Scarred for the rest of her life? What on earth had put that idea into Naomi’s head? ‘Nurse Hammond said it’s likely just bruising—’
‘But it might not be. The bones in her fingers might be broken – her tiny little bones! And that’s before contemplating the agony… the pain… the distress she must have felt. Good God, Kate, what were you thinking? It was utterly irresponsible of you – not only to leave her alone with a mangle – but to allow her into the scullery in the first place!’
‘Allow her in?’ Despite having resolved to be open with Naomi and shoulder the blame she was due, Kate could hold back no longer. ‘You were the one who went out and left me to look after her – knowing full well I was already up to my eyes with everything else.’ Freed now from having to anticipate how Naomi would respond, it felt to Kate as though something inside of her shot open, allowing all manner of pent up feelings to come rushing out. ‘Which one of us already has a day that’s full to bursting? I do. Which one of us takes care of all of the extra cooking needed for Ned’s meals? I do. Which one of us does all the extra cleaning up afterwards – and behind all of his visitors – without so much as a word of complaint? I do—’
‘For heaven’s sake, don’t try and change the subject,’ Naomi snapped. ‘This has nothing to do with Ned. This is about you not keeping an eye on Esme.’
‘I think you’ll find,’ Kate rounded on Naomi, ‘that the subject, as you call it, is one and the same. The extra work I don’t mind – not for Ned’s benefit, I don’t. But it doesn’t stop with Ned, does it? There’s Nurse Hammond – she needs feeding too. Then there’s Aunt Diana and Mrs Russell coming to visit – and other folk calling all willy-nilly. For Ned, though, I do it with nary a complaint. But, with all that extra work don’t come no more hours in the day, you know. No, I’m the one left with scarcely a chance to draw breath. I can’t go to St. Ursula’s. I can’t look after Esme – let alone do something nice like take her to the park and play with her. In fact, do you know, apart from going down the garden path to hang laundry from the clothes line, some days just lately I haven’t stepped outside of the house at all. I can’t remember the last time I walked out through the front door and down Hartland Street. So, yes, you asked me to look after Esme and she got hurt. You can’t know how sorry I am for her pain. But – and it grieves me to say this – I do think it was unreasonable of you to ask me to take care of her just so you could go to Garratt’s.’ Her feelings having poured out in a great torrent, Kate started to cry. But, despite her tears, she determined to make one final point. ‘I’d do anything for Ned – you know that. I’ve given up my room for him. I work all of God’s hours for him. But I can’t do everything Naomi… try as I might. Nor do I think it fair of you to expect it of me, either.’ With that, and feeling utterly drained, she spun away and rushed from the room.
Once out in the hallway, she ran down the stairs and bowled straight through the kitchen to the scullery, where she slammed her fists down onto the drainer and let out a growl of frustration. Catching sight of the pail of towels, she turned stiffly about. Wet or not, they would have to wait. She had more important things to see to – one of them being to prepare Ned’s luncheon and take it up to him before Nurse Hammond could grumble that she was late; tardiness, along with dirtiness, being the failing she tolerated the least.
As it happened, when Kate eventually made it upstairs with Ned’s tray, it was to find that Nurse Hammond had gone out to fetch something – a minor reprieve, at least.
Setting Ned’s tray on the trestle, she crossed to his bed and opened up the hinged flap that served as a makeshift table. ‘Is that all right?’ she enquired. Whatever happened, she mustn’t be short with him. None of this was his fault.
‘Just fine, thanks, Kate.’
Setting out his cutlery, she returned to the tray and, looking back over her shoulder, said, ‘It’s smoked haddock with mashed potato and gr
iddled asparagus. Would you like some mustard sauce with it? I’ve made it quite mild.’
‘Please.’
With no clue as to his preference in such matters, she again turned to ask, ‘Over the fish or on the side?’
‘On the side, please.’ Pouring a small amount of sauce from the jug, she watched it pool on the plate. ‘Smells good,’ he remarked. ‘I like smoked fish.’
‘Me too.’ Trying to relax her limbs, she returned the jug to her tray and then carried the plate across to him. Poor man: how on earth did he manage to eat from this awkward position? His shoulders might be raised by those pillows, but it still looked a nigh on impossible feat. ‘Would you like me to cut the fish into pieces for you?’ she asked.
‘Please. And then I can usually manage from there.’
‘All right.’
Taking his knife and fork to the piece of fish, she could feel him watching her.
‘I heard what happened to Esme.’
Her shoulders sagged. Naomi, it had to be. No doubt she had come straight up here and laid it on thick, painted her black.
‘Oh?’
‘Min told me.’
Just as she’d thought. ‘Oh.’
When she laid down the cutlery, Ned wasted no time in picking up the fork, stabbing a piece of the fish and putting it in his mouth. ‘Tasty,’ he said, gesturing with the fork towards his plate.
‘Is she very cross with me?’
With difficulty – given his unnatural position – he tilted his head, a slight smile creeping across his mouth as he chewed and then swallowed his food. ‘Cross? You know Min. She’s livid. I tried to tell her she’s directing her anger at the wrong person but, well, she rather tore into me. At that precise moment, I would probably have been less afraid for my life had I been forced to bail out from a thousand feet above the sea. But then you would know as well as anyone how hard she is to reason with.’
Resignedly, Kate agreed. ‘Yes.’ She’d been hoping to learn that Naomi had calmed down – even just a little. It seemed now, though, that she had been hoping in vain.
‘Indeed, you know how all we Russells are,’ Ned went on. ‘Hot-headed, impulsive. Intemperate.’
Despite having never come across the word “intemperate” before, she had a good sense of what it meant: unrestrained; prone to outbursts. In other words, in the image of Pamela Russell.
Reflecting upon Ned’s observation, she smiled. ‘That’s true enough.’
‘I was about to say it’s a trait we inherited from Mamma—’ Her point precisely! ‘—but, actually, the old man is the same. That said, I’m sure Min will calm down. Eventually.’
‘Hm.’ But what was she going to be like in the meantime, Kate wondered?
‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘this afternoon, Father is coming to visit—’
‘Your father is coming this afternoon?’
—and there are some things I shall talk to him about – some changes that clearly need to be made. For instance—’
Astonished that no one should have thought to tell her that Hugh Russell was coming, the rest of what Ned went on to say missed her altogether. All she could think was that she most definitely did not want to bump into Hugh Russell.
‘There’s not much cake left,’ she said, concerned as to how she might knock something up with so little time. A Victoria sandwich would be quickest – providing she had sufficient eggs. Oh, why had no one thought to tell her? Mr Russell coming to call, of all people!
‘Fond of cake though he is,’ Ned said, setting his fork upon his plate. ‘I doubt he will stay long enough to partake. He’s probably only coming because someone – most likely Mamma or Aunt Diana – has pointed out to him that since I left hospital, he hasn’t been to see me.’
‘I’m sure that he’s meant to.’ The instant the words left her mouth, though, she wondered why she’d said them. What did she know of Hugh Russell and his intentions? She knew precious little about the man. She had certainly never come to think of him as her father, despite the fact he was. To her mind, Hugh Russell was best avoided – especially if, on this occasion, Naomi was going to tell him what she, Kate, had allowed to happen to his granddaughter. In fact, for the next few days, at least until it was plain that Esme was going to be all right, it was probably best that she keep her head down generally – pay thorough and proper attention to her work and stay out of everyone’s way. Eventually, Naomi would have to start speaking to her again, wouldn’t she? Surely even she couldn’t hold one mishap against her for ever. Could she…?
Chapter Five
Repercussions
In dismay, Kate shook her head. No matter how much scouring powder she used, nor how hard she scrubbed, the stain in the bottom of the washbasin still refused to budge. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d told Naomi that the blessed tap needed fixing – the constant drip-drip-drip of it almost certainly the cause of the ugly brown mark – but her appeal only ever fell on deaf ears. Well, the basin would have to do as it was. If Nurse Hammond thought it unhygienic, then perhaps she would like to have a go at Naomi. And good luck to her with that!
Dropping her scourer into her cleaning pail and spotting a smudge on the wall-mirror, she leant across the basin to wipe it away. Then, taking a final glance about, she let out a weary sigh. No time to tarry: a long list of chores still awaited.
It was the morning after Esme’s accident, a day that, to Kate’s mind, was going to stick in her memory as her worst ever. But then, she could be wrong; today was only a few hours old and, with the atmosphere this morning, could yet turn out to be even worse. For a start, Naomi was still avoiding her; she’d even set off somewhere just now, Esme in tow, without the slightest mention of where she was going or when she would be back. For all that she could be thoughtless at times, such behaviour just wasn’t like her.
Yesterday afternoon, deeply troubled by the way that Naomi was continuing to ignore her, she’d toyed with asking Ned to intervene. In the end, though, she hadn’t. It hadn’t seemed fair to expect him to take sides or, given his own problems, to expect him to act as some sort of peacemaker or referee in a matter that had nothing to do with him.
Exhaling a long sigh of resignation, she bent to pick up her pail of cleaning things and reached to open the door. From the other side of it came the sound of voices, one of them clearly Naomi’s, the other, one she didn’t recognize. Naomi was back then. But with whom? Keen to find out, she eased the door a little further and strained to hear.
‘So, Mrs Colborne, the position you propose will be a full-time one.’
‘That’s correct.’
Position? What position? Puzzled, Kate pulled the door wider still.
‘But not a live-in one?’
‘No,’ she heard Naomi reply. ‘There is a perfectly adequate room on the second floor but, as you have seen for yourself, this house isn’t overly large, and I’m not sure how my husband would feel about living in such close proximity to a stranger.’
‘Then I’ll make a note that you’re seeking a day girl.’
A day girl? Perfectly acceptable room on the second floor? Who was this woman? Unsettled, Kate backed away from the door. Her room on the second floor – was that the one Naomi was talking about? Since the only other room on that landing was a store room, it had to be.
Breathing more rapidly now, she hastened back to the door and peered through the crack. Bother – Naomi and the mystery woman were already part way down the stairs; she had missed seeing who it was. Disquiet mounting, she checked along the landing and then tiptoed across to peer over the balustrade. The stranger was wearing a navy-blue mackintosh and matching beret. From her shoulder hung a satchel-like bag, and in her hand was a leather-bound notebook. Who the devil was she? And what was Naomi up to?
Seeing the two women moving towards the drawing room, Kate crept down the first few stairs.
‘If I understand correctly,’ she heard Naomi say, ‘day girls have become difficult to find.’
> With a quick check back over her shoulder, Kate crouched behind the bannisters. It was wrong to eavesdrop – and Naomi would be appalled – but, had she not been ignoring her, had she told her what was going on, then there wouldn’t be this need for her to sneak about in the first place. Naomi might be stubborn, but rarely was she secretive – in fact, quite the opposite. Since the accident with Esme, though, she seemed to be going out of her way to avoid her. Up until now, she had assumed it was because she was still cross with her. Now, though, she wasn’t so sure – wasn’t so sure something else wasn’t afoot.
With the women moving further into the drawing room, and their conversation becoming harder to catch, she once again checked over her shoulder. Satisfied that she was still alone, she stole the rest of the way down the stairs, darted across the hallway and, edging as close to the door as she dared, pressed herself flat to the wall. Once there, she stood, breathing rapidly. How ridiculous to be sneaking about, eavesdropping on conversations. It was the sort of thing children did. Well, needs must. Besides, Naomi had only herself to blame.
‘Day positions are hard to fill, yes,’ the visitor was now saying. ‘For a young girl in London these days, there is simply so much choice. From Mr Selfridge’s stockroom, all the way down to a stall on a local market, hard-working young women are highly sought after – and trust me, they know it. That said, there is still a trickle of girls coming in from the countryside, trained in nothing but domestic work, and able to think no more imaginatively than to secure a position in service somewhere. Those same girls, though, also have need of a roof over their heads.’
‘Which is why you find live-in positions easier to fill. Mm, now I understand.’
