Dream a Little Dream

by Joan Jonker

  Edwina stood by the window for a while, her head heavy with dark thoughts. Rubbing a hand across her forehead, she blamed her husband for her sleepless night. Life in the house would be perfect but for him; he was the blot on her landscape. He didn’t even care what people thought of them, or whether the whole road knew they no longer shared the same bed. This showed that while his bank balance had moved on, his mind had stayed in the gutter.

  A movement at the gate had Edwina pulling the net curtain back. It was Abbie, swinging the briefcase Robert had bought her for her birthday. That was another black mark against her husband. Her youngest daughter would soon be made to toe the line if he wasn’t here. The very idea of one of the Dennison girls going out to work was unthinkable. How could she expect to catch a rich husband when she was a working girl? She should have been made to go to finishing school for a year, then seek a man who would make her a suitable husband, as her sister had. Victoria was practically engaged to Charles Chisholm, the most eligible bachelor in the city. He was a marvellous catch, and when it was known he was getting engaged to Victoria Dennison, there would be a lot of disappointed mothers.

  Edwina turned from the window, rubbing her temples. She needed something to dispel the headache, otherwise it would linger all day. Intending to pull the heavy cord which would summon Agnes, she was halfway across the room when she changed her mind. It would pay her to be extra nice to the housekeeper, to worm her way into her good books. And a few words dropped as to why her husband was sleeping in the dressing-room might put an end to any gossip already in circulation. So slipping on a dressing gown, she made her way down the stairs to the kitchen.

  Kitty and Jessie were sitting at the table with Agnes, having their morning cuppa, when the kitchen door opened and Edwina entered. The two cleaners became rigid; both were terrified of the woman who could reduce them to tears with her sarcastic and cruel tongue. And they wouldn’t dare answer back for fear of losing their job.

  ‘Is this what you get paid for?’ Edwina was looking for someone to vent her anger on and these two useless excuses for human beings were ideal. ‘I’ll thank you to get out of my sight before I send you packing.’

  Chairs were being pushed back when Agnes lifted her hand. ‘Stay where you are.’ She pointed to the clock on the wall. ‘They aren’t supposed to start until eight o’clock, Miss Edwina, and as yer can see, there’s another six minutes to go.’

  Taken aback, Edwina floundered. ‘I have a splitting headache and am in no mood to argue. But make sure they are off those chairs and hard at work in five minutes. Now, Agnes, I would like you to mix a headache powder and bring it to my room.’

  ‘Right away, Miss Edwina. And if I were you I’d lie down with the curtains closed for an hour, until ye’re feeling better.’

  With a curt nod, Edwina stalked out of the room. She left behind her a lot of ill-feeling. ‘Did yer ever know anyone like her?’ The housekeeper was blazing. ‘The bloody airs and graces she puts on, anyone would think she was royalty.’

  ‘She’s a stuck-up cow, that’s what she is,’ Kitty said shakily. ‘But she’s the one with the bleedin’ money and we’re the poor sods who have to take anything she wants to throw at us. Nobody ever said life was fair, queen, ’cos it ruddy well ain’t.’ Sighing, she got to her feet. ‘Come on, girl, let’s get cracking in case the queer one decides to keep an eye on us. It’s a pity it’s only a headache she’s got and not an upset tummy what keeps her running to the lavvy all day.’

  Jessie’s head was nodding fast in agreement. ‘If I was ever given three wishes, I know what the first one would be. I’d change places with her for a day and see how she likes being treated the way she treats us. I wouldn’t half put her through it. I’d make her work until the sweat was pouring off her.’

  Agnes chuckled. ‘Posh people don’t sweat, sunshine, they perspire. Anyway, I’d better get the drink up to her otherwise it’ll give her something else to moan about. Long bloody string of misery, that’s what she is.’ As she mixed the headache powder in a glass of warm water, the housekeeper muttered, ‘I wonder if she took lessons in being miserable? If she did, her teacher deserves a medal for doing such a good job. I’ve never in me life known anyone as bad-tempered or as bloomin’ cantankerous as her.’

  It was as she was climbing the stairs that Agnes began to acquire a temper of her own. She was the one who was supposed to supervise the staff, to tell them what to do and make sure they did it properly. Miss Edwina was undermining her position by sticking her nose in where it wasn’t wanted.

  This was the thought in the housekeeper’s head as she knocked on the bedroom door before entering. ‘Yer drink, Miss Edwina, and I’d suggest yer get it down yer while it’s still warm ’cos it’s more effective then.’ She stood in front of the woman waiting for her to drink the sedative before airing her complaint. Best if everyone knew the rules so there was no misunderstanding. The kitchen was her domain and she did not welcome interference. But to her surprise, Edwina made no attempt to put the glass to her lips.

  ‘I was in the wrong downstairs, Agnes, and I can only apologise. I’ve been plagued with dreadful headaches for weeks now and I’m not getting a decent night’s sleep, which is making me bad-tempered.’ The lies had been well rehearsed. ‘I’m so restless at night, Robert has taken to sleeping in the dressing-room. But then you know that, as you make up his bed each day. I’m so glad it was decided that you should take care of our bedroom, and not the cleaners. I would hate them to misconstrue the situation and spread false rumours.’

  The expression on Agnes’s face didn’t change, but in her head she was coming up with all sorts of names that would apply to the woman facing her. Liar came top of the list, followed by bad-minded, crafty, and polished. She must think I was born yesterday, if she expects me to believe that little gem of a lie, she thought. Well, two can play at that game. ‘I thought it must be something like that, Miss Edwina, ’cos Mr Robert isn’t daft enough to sleep on that small bed unless he’s got a good reason.’

  Edwina’s eyes narrowed. Did she detect a note of sarcasm? No, the housekeeper’s face was that of an innocent baby. ‘I keep reminding him that he needs his sleep, and I’ve tried every way I know to get him back into the big bed. But to no avail. He gets very irritated with my tossing and turning.’

  ‘I can sympathise with that; there’s nothing worse than someone twitching when ye’re trying to sleep.’ This came from a woman who had never slept in the same bed as another person since she was a very small girl, when her mother used to let her into the big bed for a cuddle when her father had left for work. ‘Let’s hope yer headaches come to an end pretty soon, eh?’

  ‘I’m sure they will, Agnes, and I thank you for being so understanding.’

  ‘I’ll leave yer to your drink now and hope it does the trick.’ Agnes made to move away, paused, then stepped back. ‘Miss Edwina, I do keep an eye on the cleaners, yer know. I was under the impression that was part of my job. And I thought yer were satisfied with my work. But when yer complain, as yer did before, it’s really me ye’re ticking off and I find it unfair and very hurtful. The running of the house is my responsibility and when yer have a complaint I would ask that yer come to me with it, not Kitty or Jessie. If they have two people telling them what to do it will be very confusing for them and their work will suffer.’

  ‘I understand, Agnes, and I have said I was in the wrong. It’s these confounded headaches that are causing me to be short-tempered.’

  ‘All the more reason to hope they come to an end pretty soon, then.’ The housekeeper would like to have said she must have had the headaches continuously for ten years because she had never been anything else but miserable and short-tempered. But the woman wasn’t worth wasting any more of her breath on. ‘I’ll see to breakfast for you and Miss Victoria now, I can hear her moving about.’ When she got to the door she couldn’t resist asking, ‘Will you be wanting a full breakfast? I mean, I was wondering whether yer’d have any
appetite with having such a bad headache?’

  ‘I want a full breakfast served, Agnes. Never let it be said I allowed standards to slip because of a headache.’

  The housekeeper closed the bedroom door behind her and putting a finger inside her white mobcap, she scratched her head. The woman was completely mad. No getting away from it, she was tuppence short of a shilling. There’d only be two people for breakfast in that ruddy big dining room, but she had to go through the whole rigmarole of silver serving dishes and enough food to feed a big family. A waste of good ingredients, just so a woman who lived in a different world to everyone else, could keep up the standards. Well, if that’s what she wanted, that’s what she’d get. But the food that was over wasn’t going to go in the midden, that was a dead cert.

  Looking around for a sign of the cleaner, Agnes grinned when she caught sight of Kitty’s feet and bottom sticking out of Miss Abbie’s room and moving in and out as she brushed the carpet with a small stiff brush. Mr Robert had bought them one of the new-fangled vacuum cleaners, but the little woman was terrified of it. She said when she switched it on it ran away with her. So she and Jessie switched rooms every day so that each room got vacuumed every other day. The young girl loved the machine, she was like a child with a new toy.

  Agnes kept her voice low because Miss Victoria’s room was next door. ‘Kitty!’

  The cleaner sat back on her heels. ‘Yes, queen?’

  ‘Don’t spend the day worrying about the menu for you and Alf’s dinner tonight, ’cos it’s all sorted. Ye’re having bacon, sausage, kidneys, mushrooms and tomatoes.’

  Kitty’s mouth gaped. ‘Go ’way, queen! Yer not having me on, I hope, ’cos me mouth is watering now at the thought.’

  ‘Scout’s honour, sunshine. All courtesy of Miss Edwina. Mind you, she doesn’t know it, but what the eye don’t see, the heart don’t grieve after.’

  ‘Ay, that’s the gear, that is, queen! I’ll work with a vengeance now and I won’t say one bad word against you-know-who. Not out loud anyhow. What goes on in me head is a different matter ’cos it’s got a mind of its own.’

  The housekeeper put a finger to her lips. ‘Silence is golden, sunshine.’

  ‘I get yer, queen, and yer can rely on me. After all, it’s me and my Alf what’s going to eat like toffs tonight.’

  ‘It’s like working for two different families in this house.’ It was the half-past ten tea break and Agnes was holding forth at the kitchen table. ‘Seven o’clock I’m serving breakfast to Mr Robert, Mr Nigel and Miss Abbie. They eat in here, insist on me having me breakfast with them, and we have a ruddy good laugh. Bacon, egg and toast, that’s all. No messing with fancy dishes or three knives and forks each, they eat with the kitchen crockery and cutlery. Just one big happy family, and I’m privileged to be treated like one of them.’ She put down her cup, knowing her temperature was going to rise and she didn’t want to risk any spillage. ‘Then, an hour after they leave, I’ve got to put me different hat on and wait on Tilly Mint and Tilly Flop. Nothing but the best for them. We mustn’t let the standard fall because there’s only two of them, so it’s silver service and the lot.’

  ‘I’ve often wondered,’ Pete said, stroking his chin thoughtfully, ‘whether the Missus is all there on top?’

  ‘Well, wonder no more, lad!’ Kitty grinned as she punched him playfully on his arm. ‘’Cos she’s as mad as a bleedin’ hatter.’

  Now the gardener had a very dry sense of humour; you could never tell by his face whether he was having you on. ‘Yer know, I could have sworn it was the March hare that was mad, not the hatter.’

  Kitty opened her mouth wide and rolled her eyes. ‘Does it make any bleedin’ difference who it was, as long as they were as mad as Tilly Mint?’

  Agnes loved to see the cleaner’s face when it became animated. The eyes flashed, the lips pursed then changed to a straight line, and the forehead rose and fell. ‘D’yer mean Tilly Mint, or Tilly Flop, sunshine?’

  ‘Don’t you bleedin’ well start, Aggie Weatherby, or I’ll clock yer one. Whether I mean Mint or Flop, they’re both crazy as coots.’

  ‘Right, seeing as we’ve got that settled to everyone’s satisfaction, let’s move on to a more pleasant subject. I asked if I could tell yer this, so don’t be thinking I’m telling tales out of school ’cos I’m not.’ Agnes picked up her cup and held it between her chubby hands. No chance of spilling any when she wasn’t likely to be waving her arms around in excitement. ‘Mr Nigel and Miss Abbie are going for dancing lessons. They’re having their first one tomorrow night. And Mr Nigel has promised he’ll waltz me around the kitchen as soon as he’s learned a few steps.’

  ‘Ay, there’s not half a lot of changes going on here, isn’t there?’ Kitty wriggled to the edge of the chair so her feet could touch the floor. ‘You see it all, queen, ’cos ye’re here all the time. We have to rely on you to tell us what’s happening, so come on, we haven’t got all day, spill the beans.’

  ‘There’s certainly changes in the two youngsters. In a matter of weeks, Mr Nigel has turned from a boy to a man. He’s more talkative and much more carefree. And he’s got a good sense of humour.’

  ‘Ye’re right, Aggie,’ Pete said. ‘The best thing that’s happened to him is starting work. He’s out all day, away from the two women who used to run his life for him.’

  The housekeeper nodded. ‘My sentiments entirely, Pete. They had him in their clutches all right, treated him like a lap-dog. But he’s broke away and they’ll never get him back. Him and Miss Abbie have taken up with their old school-friends again, and they don’t live in posh houses like this, they’re ordinary working-class folk. And that’s where the dancing lessons come in. Mr Nigel’s friend is called Bobby, and he likes to go jazzing every night. Same as Milly, who’s Miss Abbie’s friend. So, not to be outdone, our two are going for private lessons to surprise them.’

  Jessie, her pretty face alight, said, ‘My mam said I can go to a dance when I’m older. So if Mr Nigel teaches you, Aggie, you can teach me.’

  ‘I can teach yer, queen! Just watch this.’ Kitty jumped to her feet and made for the space in the kitchen where she could demonstrate. Lifting her skirts, she began to sing ‘I’m Only a Bird in a Gilded Cage, a Beautiful Sight to See.’ She swayed from side to side as she sang, her skirt held wide. Then she began to twirl to the tune, and much to the delight of everyone, she didn’t only have a sweet voice, she could dance as well. Her old scruffy clothes and worn out boots took nothing away from her performance. If she’d been dressed in a beautiful ballgown she couldn’t have delighted her audience more. And when she came to a stop, they gave her a well-deserved round of applause.

  Jessie clapped her hands before rushing to hug the woman who had surprised and delighted her. ‘That was lovely, Kitty! Oh, you are clever.’

  Pete nodded in agreement. ‘Turn-up for the book, that was. I would never have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with me own eyes. Yer’ve got the voice of an angel and the grace of one of those swans on the lake in Sefton Park.’

  ‘Ye’re a dark horse, sunshine,’ Agnes nodded. ‘I’ve known yer for five years and that’s the first time I’ve heard yer sing or seen yer dance. I think you could teach Mr Nigel, save him spending money out on private lessons.’

  Kitty was flushed with the praise. ‘Not much call for dancing or singing, is there, queen? The only place yer can even have a laugh is here, in the kitchen. The rest of the house is so quiet it’s like a bleedin’ cemetery. Most of the time the only sound I can hear is me own breathing, and even then I keep expecting a voice to come behind me telling me to stop making so much noise.’

  ‘I wish Mr Robert had been here to see yer,’ Agnes said. ‘He would really have enjoyed it. In fact, I wouldn’t have put it past him to ask yer if he could partner yer.’

  ‘Aye, and pigs might fly, queen. But I enjoy dancing, and me and my Alf often move the chairs back in the living room and have a twirl. He’s a good dancer, is my husband.’


  ‘Ah, well, we’ve had a few surprises today!’ The housekeeper glanced at the clock. ‘It’s nearly time to break it up. But another little bit of news before yer go. Mr Nigel is taking his friend Bobby out in the car tonight, and he’s going to teach him to drive. So what with dancing lessons, and driving lessons, we should have plenty to talk about. Things are definitely looking up in the Dennison residence and I’m delighted.’

  ‘I could probably give the lad driving lessons.’ There was mischief written on Kitty’s face. ‘My Alf is always saying I drive him up the wall.’

  ‘If yer don’t get back to work, the three of yer, I know someone who’ll be driving yer down the path, and telling yer not to bother to come back again. So scram!’

  ‘God, ye’re a bleedin’ slave-driver, Aggie Weatherby. I’ll not be entertaining yer again with me singing and dancing, if that’s all the thanks I get.’ The little woman got to her feet and jerked her head at Jessie. ‘Come on, queen, I know when I’m not wanted. Honest, there’s just no pleasing some people.’

  ‘I’ll sell tickets next time yer give a performance, sunshine! Tilly from next door would come, and the housekeeper from twenty-six. I might as well make a few coppers out of yer talents if I can.’

  ‘Cheeky bugger!’ Kitty pushed Jessie through the door, muttering, ‘She’s that bleedin’ tight she’d pinch the eye out of yer head and then come back for the socket.’

  Nigel was feeling very happy and contented as he stopped outside the Jamiesons’ house. He’d enjoyed his day at work, knowing he was making good progress and pleasing his father and Jeff. Now he was looking forward to giving his old friend a driving lesson. He knew Bobby would pretend to act daft, like he always did, but Nigel was determined to make a driver of him so he would stand a chance of getting himself a better job. And right now he’d be like a cat on hot bricks waiting for him.