by Rose Meddon
Still trying to picture how such an arrangement might be made to work, Kate let out a long sigh. There could be no denying that having some help would be a godsend – but precisely what sort of help did she need the most?
‘Help in the kitchen,’ she said. ‘Although, someone to take care of cleaning would be handy, too.’
‘Well, look,’ Naomi said, reaching to touch her arm. ‘There’s no need to decide tonight. I’ve no wish to make matters worse – too many cooks and all that!’
Unable to help it, Kate grinned. ‘No, and while I’ve no wish to end up like Edith, I do understand why she fears that folk supposedly trying to help will do little more than get under her feet.’
‘Yes. Unlike Clarence Square – or Woodicombe – this is not a house well-suited to many staff, is it?’
She shook her head. It was true. ‘No.’
‘Well, you look exhausted. And I know I am. So, I think I shall bid you goodnight. In the morning, you can let me know what you think.’
‘I will. And thank you, Naomi.’
‘No, thank you, Kate.’
Upstairs in her room shortly afterwards, almost too weary to even undress, Kate knew that falling asleep was going to be beyond her; there were just too many thoughts in her head, each and every one of them clamouring for attention – among them the mortification she still felt for having jumped to the wrong conclusion. But there in almost equal measure were relief and elation, both brought on by the realization that she had been wrong.
Taking off her petticoat and folding it over her arm, her eyes fell upon her most recent letter from Luke. It had arrived a couple of weeks ago and she had long since written back to him. But, perhaps, if she sat down now and penned him another note, it would help to bring some order to her thoughts. If, when she read it back in the morning, it turned out that she had written a lot of nonsense – or, through sheer fatigue had expressed herself poorly – then she needn’t send it. She could screw it up and start again on a day when she felt less muddle-headed. Given how her head was buzzing with thoughts, it had to be worth a try.
Naomi told me tonight me that Mr Russell has offered to pay for some domestic help, she wrote on the uppermost sheet of her pad. She would not, she had decided, bother him with the matter of their falling out, nor with what she had subsequently gone on to assume: he would consider it a trifling business of no consequence. “Women always patch up their differences,” he had once said to her. “And men?” she recalled asking him. “Men don’t fall out so much in the first place,” had been his reply. No, she would stick to the point.
She is leaving it to me to decide what sort of help she should hire, she went on to write. But here is the thing; I don’t know what to tell her. I suppose I could have a cook, but you will no doubt recall how the kitchen here is small, and anyway, it is hard to imagine any cook worth her salt wanting such a job – especially when they see Nurse Hammond’s devilish requirements for Ned! I shouldn’t mind a parlour maid – someone to clean the lav and the floors and the windows and so on. The coal smuts here, winter and summer alike, are far worse than anything from the fireplaces at Woodicombe.
When she broke off from writing and looked up, it was to find that the room had grown quite dark. Not wanting to bother with the gas light, she struck a match and lit her candle. Woodicombe. Yes, what she really needed was staff like Edith and Mabel – Edith to take care of all of the cooking, especially since she liked to stick to a tried and tested recipe and would, therefore, relish following Nurse Hammond’s instructions to the letter – and Mabel to take charge of a day girl and keep things ship-shape generally. But she doubted such people existed in London. Even Aunt Diana had said that these days, it was as much the prospective employee who interviewed and scrutinized the employer than the other way around. “It seems one must be grateful for whomever one can get,” Aunt Diana had recently remarked, bemoaning the trials of having to fill a vacancy on her own staff. “And then simply trust that it will work out all right.” And if Aunt Diana struggled to find staff for her opulent home – to quote Naomi’s description of it – then what hope was there for the needs of the rather more modest number twelve, Hartland Street?
Mabel and Edith: her grandmother and her mother; her other family. Yes, she really should write to them, too. It must be so dreary and soulless, rattling around in that big empty house, Mr Russell seeming to have no immediate plans for it. Poor Woodicombe – what a waste of it. But wait: Woodicombe. Perhaps they should all decamp there! They could do a lot worse.
Fighting to keep her eyes open, she laid her pen on her blotter, screwed the cap back on her bottle of ink and stared down at her letter. She would finish it tomorrow. And, while at this precise moment she was no clearer about the sort of help she was going to ask Naomi to employ, perhaps the answer would come to her in her sleep. Stranger things had happened.
* * *
Poached eggs? Goodness, there was a welcome surprise.
Despite it being “porridge day”, word had arrived in the kitchen that Ned had voiced a craving for poached eggs on toast, which could only mean, Kate reflected as she filled a pan with water, that he was regaining his appetite. She did hope so because, later that morning, he was due to be examined by a doctor from Queen Alexandra’s, and they were all keeping their fingers crossed for a good prognosis.
It wasn’t until almost eleven o’clock, though, when Naomi came down to the kitchen, Esme in tow, when she had the chance to find out how he had fared.
‘Well, how did it go?’ she asked, reaching for the kettle in the expectation that Naomi had come down for a belated morning coffee.
‘Very well.’
Lighting the gas on the range, Kate nodded. ‘The doctor was pleased?’
‘Better than that – tomorrow, he is coming back to remove Ned from traction.’
The gas lit under the kettle, she spun about. ‘Really? He’ll be able to get up?’
‘Not able to get up just yet, no. The idea in the first instance seems to be to remove the traction rods but leave the splints. Then, after a further couple of days, Nurse Hammond will remove the splints as well and commence a regime of gentle exercises to start to re-build his muscles. Apparently, they will have wasted away through lack of use.’
While a pleasing thing to hear, it seemed clear that Ned still had a long way to go. Nevertheless, she found herself smiling warmly. ‘He must be over the moon.’
‘You should have seen his face! You know, I do believe he had started to think the day would never come. The doctor warned him not to expect a miracle. Apparently, progress will be slow and frustrating, and a great deal of regular exercising will be needed before he will even countenance letting Ned try to actually walk. He also took great pains to stress that these things must not be rushed – not that Nurse Hammond would permit that anyway.’
‘So, Nurse Hammond will stay on, then?’ she said. ‘She can do these exercises with him?’
‘Apparently, yes. The doctor seemed impressed by her knowledge of bones and joints and recuperative therapies, as he called them.’
‘That’s all good then,’ she said, her delight genuine.
‘Not only that but, before he left, I asked the doctor to look at Esme’s hand.’
At the mention of Esme, Kate stiffened. Hearing the kettle start to whistle, she reached to lift it from the ring. ‘And…?’
‘And he said that there are no broken bones – no long-term damage done as far as he could tell. He bandaged her fingers again – largely to prevent her from accidentally knocking them and doing further harm – and said that Nurse Hammond should look at them again in four or five days, by which time all should be well. Perhaps still a little bruised and tender, but otherwise fine.’
Unwittingly, Kate let out a sigh of relief. In a way, that was better than the news about Ned. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘Then let me make you your coffee.’
‘Thank you. And I’ll pour Esme some milk. Then, if you can spare a moment to sit
down, perhaps you can tell me your thoughts about the extra help.’
Despite not having had time to give it any further thought this morning, Kate knew what she wanted. If, shortly now, Ned was no longer going to be confined to his bed, then what she had first thought to be the answer no longer seemed appropriate. Instead, coming together in her mind was another idea. The trick, though, would be to convince Naomi that not only could her plan be made to work, but that it would be to the benefit of all of them.
* * *
‘So, let me see whether I understand the pair of you.’
It was after luncheon that same day and, having discussed with Naomi her idea to help the next few months pass more smoothly, Kate had accompanied her up to Ned’s bedside, where they were both now trying to convince him of the same thing. To put it plainly, he looked bemused.
‘Go on.’
‘You would pack up here,’ he said, looking between their faces, ‘and take everything we need – this bed, for instance, and all of Nurse Hammond’s equipment – down to Woodicombe because you think… well, no, I’m not entirely sure what it is you do think. I’m afraid you will have to spell it out.’
‘We think,’ Kate began, suddenly seeing her idea as she realized he might be doing – in other words, as mazed – ‘that once you start to get up and about again, you’re going to find this place real cramped.’
‘There’s the stairs, for a start,’ Naomi chipped in.
‘Unless memory deceives,’ Ned responded, ‘Woodicombe also has stairs.’
‘Yes,’ Naomi continued. ‘It does. But, as Kate reminded me, it also has several rooms on the ground floor that could, with only minimal effort, be set up for your use – Uncle Sidney’s study, for a start. You wouldn’t believe how much space there is in there now that all of his books and that enormous desk are gone. And just across the hallway is the lavatory.’
‘And, on nice days, you would be able to sit outside,’ Kate hurried on to say, ‘which you can hardly do here since from either of the doors you would have to negotiate a flight of steps.’
‘Hm.’
Although he appeared to be considering the idea, she could tell that he was far from convinced. ‘Better still,’ she said, eager that he should see the whole picture, ‘your father wouldn’t need to pay for more staff – as he’s proposing to do here – because we would have Mabel and Edith. I know that Edith, for one, would be thrilled to have reason to cook again, and for certain Mabel would be willing to keep on top of everything else. At worst, we might need a girl from the village to do a couple of hours of cleaning each morning. But that would cost Mr Russell a good deal less than having to find someone through an agency here.’
When she was forced to pause for breath, Naomi picked up.
‘In addition to which, it would be a good reason to open up the house – make use of it through the summer, rather than let it sit there mouldering away.’
‘And there would be the fresh air,’ Kate added. ‘Everyone feels better for some fresh air.’
‘And this place?’ Ned wanted to know, gesturing about the room.
‘Oh, we’d just throw dust sheets over everything,’ Naomi replied, waving her hand dismissively, ‘and ask Mamma to send someone from Clarence Square once a week to give it the quick once over – as Kate would say. We’ve done it before.’
‘Hm.’ Still Ned seemed unconvinced.
‘Truly,’ Naomi continued, ‘this place is the least of our concerns.’
With that, Kate saw him frown.
‘All right, forgetting about this place, what about you, Min? Am I to believe that you could put up with being in Devon? Only, you know how desperately quiet it is there.’
‘I won’t deny that it’s quiet,’ Naomi admitted. ‘But, to be honest, it’s not terribly lively here at the moment either – not sans spouse, it isn’t.’
Still, Ned hesitated. ‘I do see why you think it a good idea. But we could only undertake it with the blessing of the doctor and the agreement of Nurse Hammond.’
‘’Course.’
‘Absolutely,’ Naomi agreed. ‘We would discuss it with Doctor Ramsey. And, assuming he raised no objections, we would ask Nurse Hammond whether she wished to join us – because, if she didn’t, we would have to make certain that we could replace her.’
‘And we really ought to ask Father,’ Ned pointed out. ‘Not just assume that he will go along with the idea. It’s only good manners.’
‘Don’t worry about Papa. You can leave him to me.’
Flicking her eyes back and forth between the two of them as she followed their exchange, Kate felt encouraged.
‘And you’re sure you’re all right with these arrangements?’ Ned turned to her to ask.
Looking back at him, she nodded. ‘I think it will be easier all round.’
After a further moment’s reflection, he too nodded. ‘Very well then. Let us see whether we can bring it about. Although, I do have a favour to ask.’
Beside her, Naomi shook her head, a gesture Kate read as being one of mock dismay.
‘Go on then. What are you after?’
‘See if you can get hold of my chap Rowley, would you? A while back, Mamma brought me a letter he’d sent care of Clarence Square and so, now, I do at least know where he is.’
‘Tell him where you’re going to be?’ Naomi asked. ‘Is that what you mean?’
‘Actually, no,’ he said, starting to grin. ‘I rather meant you to get hold of him and see whether he would like to come with us – so that we might do our convalescing together…’
When Naomi shook her head, on her lips was a smile. ‘What do you say, Kate?’
‘He writes that any day now he should be ambulant again.’ Ned seemed to think it helpful to clarify. ‘Fortunate to smash just the one leg, he said. “A rather simple break”, is how he actually described it.’
Noticing Ned’s animation, Kate knew it would be mean to refuse him. Having company while they recovered would surely be of benefit to both men. Besides which, having more people at Woodicombe might go some way to bringing the place back to life – maybe even make it feel a little like the old days again. ‘Why not?’ she said with a shrug.
‘The more the merrier?’ Naomi turned to her to ask.
‘Something like that, yes.’
Chapter Six
Woodicombe
‘I do hope this hasn’t all been too much work for you, Mrs Bratton.’
‘Not at all, ma’am. To tell you the truth, we’ve rather enjoyed it.’
Watching Naomi talking to Mabel, Kate smiled. This was only her second day back in Woodicombe but, even accounting for the tiring railway journey down from London, made alone, and a full day yesterday spent getting things up together, she felt better than she had in a long time. And she suspected the same was true for Mabel and Edith. And now, even Naomi, who had just arrived with Esme, seemed brighter, too.
‘Well, I must say, Mrs Bratton, everywhere looks spick and span as always,’ Naomi picked up again, looking about and taking everything in. ‘And what lovely flowers. Did you do them yourself?’
‘I did, ma’am.’
From a couple of steps away, Kate watched Naomi inspect the crystal vase crammed with peonies, their shades of burgundy, soft pink and rich cream all set off by dazzling sprigs of yellow-lime spurge – chartreuse, as she’d once heard Naomi refer to the vibrant colour. In a way, she envied Mabel her eye; when it came to anything even remotely artistic, she herself was utterly hopeless.
With a relaxed smile, Naomi glanced at her wristwatch. ‘Well, I suppose we should get these few belongings unpacked before the delivery van arrives with everything else. Oh, and you say that for Nurse Hammond, you’ve readied a room downstairs?’
Relieved that, together, they’d got everything so organized, Kate nodded. ‘We’ve made up the old butler’s room – you remember, next to the housekeeper’s parlour. Should Ned ring for help during the night, Nurse Hammond will hear the bell. Come with
me and I’ll show you.’
‘I’m sure Nurse Hammond will have no complaints,’ Naomi remarked moments later, her inspection of the little room complete. ‘I’m sure she has put up with far more spartan conditions in her time.’ Lowering her voice, she then went on, ‘My greater concern is how Mabel and Edith will cope with us all descending like this – Edith especially. It’s years since they’ve had to look after more than the odd visitor and I worry that they will be overwhelmed. Are you still certain they will be able to manage?’
Pleased by Naomi’s concern for them, Kate nodded. ‘Edith won’t fret. Always seemed to me she preferred to work on her own anyway – you know, with no one to get under her feet or do something wrong and cause a confloption. For certain she’ll find it hard going these first few days, but I’ll wager she’d rather be worn out than bored. If nothing else, it will make a change from endless hours sat knitting.’
‘Knitting?’
Recalling the cardboard box labelled with the name of the local depot of the VAD, Kate grinned. ‘You should see the mountain of socks and scarves she’s got waiting to be sent off again.’
‘And what about Mabel, you mentioned that she’s brought in a girl?’
Kate nodded. ‘Winnie Dodd from up at Woodicombe Cross.’
‘And she’ll be reliable, this Winnie?’
‘Mabel wouldn’t have taken her on otherwise.’
‘Very well then.’
‘But I did make a point of saying – to both Mabel and Edith – that if they need help, they’re to ask you straightaway and not wait until they’re on their knees.’
‘Well done,’ Naomi said, looking along the empty corridor. ‘Now, I’m not expecting Ned and Nurse Hammond to be here until quite late this evening. And this fellow Rowley isn’t due until Friday, by which time I’m rather hoping the rest of us will have settled in.’
