Alice's Long Road Home

by Rosie James

  ‘Well, why not get in touch and see if he still needs you?’ Sam said. ‘Because until our babies decide to start arriving, now is about the only time you’re going to be available! Make sure he knows that!’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Two weeks later, Betty was at last ready to leave Clifton. And on the appointed day, Alice went through the kitchen and into the cook’s apartment to see if she needed any help with last-minute packing.

  ‘I’m sure your cousin is looking forward to having you stay with her again, Betty,’ Alice said, sitting down on the edge of the bed for a moment. ‘You told me that she said how much she’d missed you after you’d come back home when the war ended.’

  Betty zipped up the last of her cases and stood back. ‘Yes, well – it was nice for us to be together all that time,’ she said. ‘She was glad of the company, and I was glad of a safe place to stay away from the bombing.’

  ‘The war might be a thing of the past,’ Alice said, ‘but it’s the present that counts now, and we all want you to stay and have a really good rest…a complete change. So you’re not coming home until you feel yourself again…and not having any more of those funny turns,’ she added.

  Betty looked at Alice quizzically. ‘It’s very kind of everyone to be so concerned about me,’ she said, ‘but don’t you go thinking that I shall be away long… I don’t want to go at all, really,’ she added, ‘ but I have to respect what Sam and the professor think, don’t I? And you as well, of course, Alice. So I’ve packed enough for about a month. ’ She paused. ‘I am rather worried that you haven’t found anyone to take over – temporarily,’ she went on, ‘to cover for me while I’m gone.’ She shrugged. ‘So it’s all going to be up to you now, isn’t it?’

  ‘Don’t you worry about a thing, nor about me, Betty,’ Alice said. ‘I’ll make sure that my husband and the professor don’t go hungry.’

  Betty frowned briefly as she thought of something. ‘But…what if Sam has to go away somewhere…to London…or some other part of the country? You’ll go too, of course – so who will be here to keep everything ticking over?’

  Alice stood up. ‘There’s no problem there, Betty,’ she said, ‘ because we heard yesterday that Sam has been asked to stay at the Infirmary for another year – so we’re not going anywhere until then. After that he’ll be fully qualified and can stay, or go, wherever he likes. Wherever his skills are most needed…or wherever he feels they are most needed,’ she added.

  Betty took one last look at herself in the mirror, then turned to Alice. ‘He has done so well, hasn’t he, Alice?’ she said. ‘All that training, all that work, all those exams…it’s all paid off, hasn’t it?’ She paused. ‘The professor must be so proud of him – and so must you, Alice. And…and of course dear Madam, dear Helena…what would she be thinking if she were still here?’

  ‘Of course I am proud of him, Betty,’ Alice said, ‘and I know that his mother is, too.’ She picked up both of Betty’s quite heavy suitcases and went towards the door. ‘The car will be outside now, Betty,’ she said, ‘and – promise you’ll write and let me know how you are…how you are feeling? What you are doing? Of course you can ring here at any time, but you know how I love having letters. And I promise to reply straightaway – to set your mind at rest that somehow we are managing to cope without you! Just for now!’

  After Betty had left, Alice went back into her apartment and looked around briefly. Everything was spick and span – naturally – and a quick glance in the drawers and the wardrobe showed that most of Betty’s belongings had gone with her. But it didn’t matter anyway, because if Betty’s replacement needed accommodation for the short time she’d be here, she could use Margaret’s room. Margaret seldom came home any more. Betty’s home would still be here for her when she returned.

  On the kitchen table there was a note, and Alice sat down to read it. It was in Betty’s handwriting.

  Lunch today could be: Ham. Boiled new potatoes, lettuce/spring onions/radishes from the garden. (See Henry). Pudding: Egg custards (in fridge)

  Dinner this evening: Pork chops, with sage & onion stuffing (prepared). Veg in box. Pudding: Ginger sponge (will have to be made but all ingredients in pantry) Bird’s custard to accompany.

  All groceries were delivered this morning, should be sufficient for ten days depending on how many eating.

  Good luck Alice. I wish it was me doing everything. But I shan’t be away long. Love Betty.

  Alice folded the note carefully. She was going to keep that…another one for her wallet. Then she got up and glanced around her, humming a tune under her breath…feeling pleased…optimistic. For the time being, this was her kitchen. She was the one in charge – and she was going to enjoy doing everything. She had helped in this kitchen many times before in her life, preparing vegetables, rubbing up pastry… Had often sat with the cook drinking cocoa at the end of busy days upstairs with the children. This was no strange situation for Alice – this was going to be normal, busy happiness.

  And Alice Watts – Alice Carmichael – was happy. Ever since she and Sam had been so honest with each other, she seemed to have been walking on air. She had made up her mind ever since that dream she’d had of her mother and father three nights ago. They had both been there, smiling at her…encouraging her. Keep on an even keel. Don’t give up…

  So…she was going to make this another phase of her life, like turning a new page – she might – just might – write to Mr. Pennington and test the ground…sort of show some interest in the company…or she might even write a few more pages of that elusive novel! But everything else was to be kept firmly in the background. She frowned briefly, remembering something. What was it that she had heard Helena say to Ada, once? That accepting something which couldn’t be changed, brought relief…and a certain kind of happiness?

  Alice was thoughtful for a moment. Helena Carmichael had appeared to have had everything in the world that could bring her happiness – she’d been beautiful, she’d been loved, she’d had a large family who she’d adored and who’d adored her, and she’d always known prosperity. And yet…the simple words she had spoken suggested that even she would have changed something in her life, if it had been possible.

  Accept what cannot be changed, and find a certain kind of happiness…

  There were going to be the three of them for dinner this evening – perhaps four if Sam or the professor invited a guest. And they were going to have the stuffed pork – as suggested in Betty’s note.

  Alice went into the pantry and glanced up at the shelves, laden with foodstuffs. Everywhere was neat, orderly, nothing forgotten. Betty Evans was one in a million. And for the next few weeks, Alice Watts would make sure that those high standards were strictly adhered to…

  ‘Do come in, Miss Harris.’

  Alice stood back to allow the young woman who had just rung the bell to enter, then went before her into the morning room.

  It was a beautiful, early September day, the sun shining in through the long windows shafting bright beams across the ceiling and walls, and Alice felt her heart lift as she smiled across at the latest applicant for Betty’s role.

  Miss Saraya Harris was certainly different from anyone Alice had interviewed so far. Her thick hair, pinned neatly on top, was jet black and shining with obvious good health, the dress she had on was in a highly coloured print of reds and yellows and flashes of orange, and on her feet were a pair of flat, brown, thonged sandals. Her hands were small, the nails short and well-kept. Her only jewellery was a pair of gold stud earrings. She was carrying a large, white handbag.

  Alice instantly found this young woman beautiful. The dark olive skin of her bare neck and arms was soft and as smooth as velvet, her brightly coloured lips seeming ready to break into an amused smile. But the most arresting feature of Miss Harris’s appearance was her eyes. They were dark – almost black, and set in pools of pure white, eyes now searchingly alive with interest as she glanced at her surroundings.

&nb
sp; And when Alice ushered her to sit down beside her on the sofa, Soraya Harris smiled a generous smile, her teeth dazzling white against her red lipstick.

  Realizing that she must have been unashamedly staring at this applicant for several moments, Alice quickly looked away and began to unfold the pages of application she had received from Miss Harris. Then – politely –

  ‘You found us all right?’ Alice began, and was interrupted by the quick response.

  ‘Oh yes, Madam…I found my way easily. Thank you.’ The voice, like the rest of this woman was silky smooth…not cultured, exactly, but careful. Considered. Only modestly accented with the speech rhythms of her race.

  Alice glanced at the papers in her hands. ‘I was very impressed with your application, Miss Harris,’ she said. Then – ‘Just tell me again about yourself…how long you have been in this country.’

  Miss Harris put her bag down on the floor, and with her hands clasped loosely in her lap, she looked at Alice with an unaffected gaze.

  ‘I left Jamaica in 1948, Madam,’ she said calmly. ‘I came over with many others on the Empire Windrush, and we docked at Tilbury.’ She smiled at Alice disarmingly. ‘We were warned that we were never going to enjoy weather like we have at home, but fortunately, it was quite warm when we arrived.’

  ‘What made you decide to come to England?’ Alice asked curiously, and Saraya answered at once.

  ‘I have always wanted to see England,’ she replied. ‘I have heard so much about your country – and of course, as you know, Madam – since the British Nationality Act, all of us in the Commonwealth countries are British citizens. We are British now! And we are so proud of it!’ She paused. ‘I knew I would have to come one day… I received a good education in Jamaica, so I knew I would be able to support myself when I arrived here,’ she added.

  Well, Alice thought, you can certainly express yourself very well in what, after all, is a foreign language. She cleared her throat and glanced down at the pages again.

  ‘From the glowing references here, I see that you have worked in two good hotels in London,’ she said, ‘as assistant chef. And at a private school in Surrey as their catering manager.’ She paused. ‘Where did you learn those skills?’

  ‘I learned to cook at a very early age, Madam,’ Saraya replied. ‘My mother taught me most of what I know, and I found work in restaurants at home. But when I came to England I was able to enrol at a night school where I learned about English cuisine.’

  Alice nodded. ‘Yes – I have your certificates here.’

  There was a moment’s silence, then – ‘My mother always impressed on me that I must have qualifications to support myself financially,’ Saraya said, and Alice thought – that is exactly what Helena Carmichael had once advised her, Alice. That everyone needs money, and that they should educate themselves to earn it.

  ‘But…why have you chosen to come to Bristol?’ Alice enquired, frowning briefly, and Miss Harris smiled.

  ‘I wanted to get away from London – and that part of the country,’ she said. ‘I have visited many places…Salisbury, Cardiff, Oxford…exploring, finding things out. One day I hope to visit Scotland – and perhaps Northern Ireland! But…I wanted to see Bristol for myself. I have read a lot about it,’ she added.

  Alice shot her a glance. Was the girl referring to the despicable slave trade which had furnished much of the city’s prosperity?

  After a moment – ‘Do you have family…at home?’ Alice said, and Saraya nodded.

  ‘Yes – my parents and two brothers,’ she said. ‘My mother works in a shop, and my father and brothers are employed at the banana plantation.’ She shrugged. ‘They do not share my wish to come to England, but I may be able to persuade them one day!’

  ‘So…have you accommodation here at the moment?’ Alice asked, and Saraya smiled another of her bewitching smiles, her dark eyes twinkling.

  ‘I am staying at the YWCA – the Young Women’s Christian Association hostel in the town,’ she said. ‘It is very comfortable.’

  Alice made an immediate decision, because suddenly she felt that it was the right one. She just felt it in her bones.

  ‘Then – I would like to offer you this…temporary…position, Miss Harris,’ she said. ‘The lady who has been cook here for many years is having a short break, so if you are agreeable, I would like to engage you, say, until the New Year? You will normally be catering for three or four of us – though sometimes there are more – but I can always help you.’ She smiled. ‘You will have your own accommodation upstairs, which I will show you in a moment, and of course you would like to see the kitchen wouldn’t you? Your hours, and the pay we are offering were mentioned in the advertisement – is all that acceptable to you?’

  Miss Harris was obviously delighted. ‘Oh yes, Madam…perfectly acceptable,’ she said breathlessly.

  Alice stood up. ‘Then – today is Wednesday – so would you like to start on Saturday?’

  After Miss Harris had departed, Alice felt a curious wave of pure pleasure sweep through her. Of all the women she had interviewed, this one had felt absolutely right…absolutely perfect for them, for the Carmichaels. It had been a gut instinct as soon as Alice had seen Saraya, whose patent good humour was immediately obvious. And her education and experience seemed more than adequate.

  Alice smiled a little satisfied smile to herself as she went into the kitchen. She was an employer, now, not an employee! And she knew, she just knew, that she’d got it right.

  Still, come off your high horse, she told herself. There are still those vegetables to do for tonight’s dinner…

  That evening Alice gave them the news. Looking across at Sam and the professor, she said lightly –

  ‘This morning, I engaged a member of your…of our…staff. To stand in for Betty. She starts on Saturday.’

  Both men looked up. ‘Oh good,’ Edward said. ‘Who is she?’

  ‘She’s called Saraya Harris, she’s a Jamaican immigrant – came over on the Windrush in ’48 – nicely qualified, and with a pleasing manner. Well, I thought so. I took to her at once. And she seemed delighted to be coming to Clifton.’ Alice sipped from her glass of water. ‘She’s worked at hotels in London, and from her references I think she’s probably a very good cook.’

  Edward looked across at Alice quizzically. ‘She will have to be very good to prepare a meal like the one you’ve just served us, Alice,’ he said, ‘that ginger sponge was absolutely delicious.’

  ‘And so was the custard,’ Sam remarked, licking his spoon with unashamed, boyish pleasure.

  Alice gazed lovingly at him for a second. He was happy again, she knew he was. He, and the rest of the medical team who’d dealt with baby Thomas, had recovered themselves quickly. They’d just had to. Because there were always more tiny infants waiting for treatment, waiting for a miracle. And the surgeons must always be alert, always efficient, always prepared, always positive…

  And Alice was happy again, too. Really happy. She just knew she was.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Saturday afternoon a week later, Alice, Fay and Eve sat together once again in the tea room of the Royal Hotel – something which had been arranged by Eve a couple of days ago.

  ‘The thing is, we’re off to Spain next week,’ she’d reminded them on the phone, ‘and we think we’ve sold Newbridge and we’ve also put in an offer for that house on Lansdown, so our time is going to be short…we really must meet, as soon as possible.’

  Alice and Fay hadn’t needed any persuading…they’d promised each other that, whatever happened, they would always find time for regular get-togethers.

  They were already well into the meal, with Alice pouring their second cups of tea, when Fay looked across –

  ‘So – go on then, Evie…tell us the worst – or the best,’ she said. ‘When you told your parents, have they cut you off without a penny?’

  Eve helped herself to a custard slice. ‘No – as a matter of fact, the news didn’t seem to bo
ther them as much as I’d expected,’ she said happily. Eve had already mentioned to the others that she’d told her parents the real reason they were going to Spain. ‘Max and I tried to explain what rock and roll was, but I don’t think they got it… I mean, you need to hear it, don’t you? You need to experience it. And I’m absolutely certain that they will never want to do that!’ She smiled cheerfully. ‘But it doesn’t matter any more – now that I’ve told them, my conscience is clear – in all respects,’ she added.

  ‘My conscience has never bothered me at all,’ Fay declared breezily. ‘I do whatever I want to do – as long as it doesn’t hurt anybody else. I’m me, and if people don’t like it, or me, well, hard luck.’

  The others smiled. Who couldn’t like Fay Reynolds?

  ‘Anyway, you go off and have a smashing time, our Evie,’ Fay said, reaching across for the last sandwich, ‘but you’d better keep your eye on Maximus while you’re out there – those Spanish beauties are hot stuff so I believe…they might whisk him away from you.’

  Eve gave a smug little smile. ‘Oh, don’t you worry about me – or Max,’ she said. ‘Max would never, ever, let me down. I know that.’ She paused. ‘He is so lovely…life is so lovely…and I am so happy,’ she added quietly.

  Alice and Fay exchanged glances. What a turnaround it had been for Evie.

  Alice poured out some more tea, glancing at Fay. ‘And how, may we ask, is Mrs. Roger Foulkes these days?’ she said lightly. But she didn’t need to ask. Fay, too, seemed to be happier than she’d ever been. Well, she had told Alice as much. And although Fay was still the same cheerful, naughty, irreverent girl she’d always been, there was something different about her. She seemed much more relaxed within herself, Alice thought, as if she’d reached a point – a plateau – of letting go. Of letting go of some of the bitterness which she’d never bothered to hide. Perhaps the word for Fay was that she’d found contentment at last. Or –

  Accept what cannot be changed and find a certain kind of happiness?