Mistress of Greyladies

by Anna Jacobs

  He came to the door, not wearing a shirt, pulling his braces up over his vest as if he’d been getting dressed. He studied Phoebe. ‘I was just having a lie-down. Trouble?’

  ‘Yes. I need help. Would you mind?’

  ‘I’ll finish getting dressed and take you for a cup of tea at the corner cafe. Keep an eye on things here, Flo.’

  ‘Is this the new girl?’

  ‘No. She’s a relative of mine.’

  ‘Pity. She’s quite pretty.’

  The predatory look in the woman’s eyes made Phoebe shiver.

  He gripped Flo’s shoulder so tightly she winced. ‘Remember: this one’s a relative of mine. Not to be touched.’

  ‘Yes, Frank. Frank, don’t! You’re hurting me.’

  ‘Remember.’ He shoved her away so hard she nearly fell, then said to Phoebe, ‘Wait for me outside. I don’t want you in here.’

  She wondered why he was undressed so late in the day and why he didn’t want her here. What was this place?

  As they set off down the street, she told him what had happened.

  ‘You’re all right, though?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Lost your things, have you?’

  ‘No. Mrs Harby next door helped me get the smaller things out and she’s looking after them for me till I can find some lodgings.’

  Another of those stares, then, ‘Better go out to stay with my mother.’

  ‘Yes. That’s what I thought. For the time being, anyway. But I’ve got quite a bit of furniture still in the house and I don’t want to lose it. Do you know anyone with a cart?’

  ‘Might do. We’ll see what you’ve got, but first we’ll have something to eat and drink.’

  She didn’t feel hungry, but forced some food down. She had to keep her energy up. Frank didn’t talk much, but he ate a lot and finished off what she’d left on her plate as well.

  ‘You don’t eat much, Phoebe. No wonder you’re so slender. It suits you, though.’

  She didn’t want him talking about her appearance. He looked fatter and puffy. ‘I’m not hungry today. Too upset.’

  ‘About them Germans?’

  ‘They’re not Germans.’

  ‘Whatever they are, they’re foreigners and I bet the police will lock ’em away till the war’s over.’

  ‘Where will they send them? Will I be able to visit them?’

  ‘How should I know where they’ll be going? Don’t you go near them. You’ve got to start looking after your own interests.’

  ‘They’ve been kind to me.’

  ‘You’re too soft for your own good, you are. People take advantage.’

  She’d rather be soft than hard like him, but she didn’t say so. She was watching what she said today.

  She would not, she decided, tell any of them about the money. Especially Frank. She had to find some way of hiding it. On her person would be best. She’d need to make some sort of money belt.

  She’d sew one tonight after everyone else had gone to bed.

  When they got to the shop, the policeman called out, ‘There she is! Hoy, miss! Come here.’

  Another policeman standing there, called, ‘Are you sure she’s the one?’

  ‘Yes. It’s definitely her.’

  Frank took hold of her arm and edged her forward. ‘No use running away,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Smile at them.’

  But Phoebe couldn’t summon up a smile, just couldn’t.

  ‘You’re Miss Phoebe Sinclair?’ the policeman asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I have this letter for you. It’s been opened to check it’s got nothing dangerous in. It’s from your former employers.’

  ‘Are they all right?’

  ‘Mr Stein isn’t well, but he dictated this letter to his wife, and since it’s to your benefit, and you’re British, the inspector decided to pass it on to you.’

  She opened the letter, gasping as she read it.

  To whom this may concern

  Everything in the shop is to go to our former employee, Phoebe Sinclair, all stock and equipment. She’s English through and through. She’s been a hard worker and better she has it than the looters.

  Hubert Stein

  Trudi Stein

  She read it again, amazed and touched that in all their troubles, they’d thought of her.

  Frank twitched the letter out of her hand and read it, letting out a low whistle. ‘You fell lucky there.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Aren’t they coming back? Or selling the business?’

  The policeman gave her a condescending smile. ‘They’ll be kept in custody for the duration of the war, together with other enemy aliens. And who’d pay good money to take over a ruined shop, especially if they had to give the money to foreigners?’

  The poor Steins. What had they done to deserve this?

  ‘I should clear the contents of the shop quickly, if I was you,’ the policeman said. ‘The mobs will get in and loot it if you don’t. We’re only keeping a man on duty here till the end of the day.’

  ‘I’ll see to that for my fiancée, Officer,’ Frank said. ‘Thank you very much for helping us. I’ll buy you a drink one day … when times are easier.’

  Phoebe was puzzled by the nods they gave one another, then it suddenly sank in what Frank had called her. ‘I’m not your fiancée!’ she whispered.

  ‘Shh. It’ll make things easier for me to help you. And you could be, if you wanted.’

  ‘No, thank you. I don’t want to get married, not to anyone.’

  He laughed. ‘We’ll talk about that another time. You go inside now and start sorting out the shop stuff that isn’t damaged. I’ll fetch some fellows and a couple of carts.’

  She didn’t like the idea of pretending to be engaged to a man like him. Something inside her shrank from the mere thought of it. But she did as he told her, consoling herself with the thought that she’d give everything back to the Steins once all this stupidity was sorted out. She didn’t want to benefit from their troubles.

  Even if there was a war, everyone was saying it wouldn’t last long. She didn’t know if they were right. What did she know about wars? She felt very ignorant of everything after her years in a small village, focusing on caring for her mother, then her years in this shop.

  She should have read more newspapers to keep up with what was going on, instead of novels from the library, but she’d felt so tired after her mother died, so very weary. She’d needed time to recover.

  And now … well, she didn’t know what she felt. Or what she’d do to earn her living.

  When the two carts laden with furniture and goods got to the farm, Frank explained to his parents what had happened, then took charge.

  ‘We’ll put the things from the shop into my boss’s barn. They’ll be safer there because it has a good strong door and proper locks.’ He saw Phoebe’s puzzled look. ‘He’s paying my parents to store some things for him.’

  ‘Oh.’ It was the first time she’d heard about him having a boss to answer to. She was beginning to feel very suspicious about how he earned a living.

  ‘There’s another shed where we can put your furniture and household stuff,’ Cousin Horace told Phoebe. ‘It’s a bit ramshackle, but it’s waterproof and I’ll put some rat poison and mousetraps down.’

  She could only say, ‘Thank you.’ She was so tired now that everything was starting to feel unreal.

  ‘You come inside and leave the men to put things away,’ Cousin Janet said. ‘You’re white with exhaustion, you poor thing. Must have been a terrible day for you.’

  Her son overheard and grinned. ‘It was a very good day for her. She got given the stock of the shop. Nice lot of money that’ll bring in after the war. Do you know how to make curtains, Phoebe?’

  ‘Straightforward ones, not the fancy sort. Mrs Stein and Edith did those.’

  ‘Bring in good money, does it, a curtain shop?’

  ‘Not bad. Enough for the Steins to buy their own house with a few ye
ars’ profits.’

  He nodded slowly, looking at her thoughtfully.

  He’d better not start calling her his fiancée again. The mere thought of being kissed and mauled about by him made her shudder.

  She sat in front of the kitchen fire, her eyes closed, feeling relaxed after a nice cup of cocoa and a currant bun. Frank came in and stopped in the doorway. ‘Got a minute, Mum?’

  Cousin Janet went out into the hall.

  Phoebe could hear them talking, even though they kept their voices low, because Cousin Horace had gone to bed and the house was quiet. They thought she was asleep and she didn’t bother to tell them she was only resting her eyes.

  ‘Phoebe’s got a lot of stuff, hasn’t she?’ Cousin Janet said. ‘Worth a nice bit of money, that is. And she’s a good-looking girl. You could do worse than marry her, Frank, love.’

  ‘I was thinking that myself today. She’s very ladylike, too. I wonder where she gets that from?’

  ‘Takes after her mother, Horace says. Not that she had money or anything but she was a Latimer.’

  ‘That name doesn’t mean anything to me.’

  ‘It didn’t mean anything to me till I married Horace. The Latimers have land in Wiltshire somewhere. I don’t know where exactly, but that’s probably where Phoebe gets that refined air she has. She carries herself like a duchess, Horace always says, just as her mother did before she got ill. Why she fell in love with a rough miner like Rick was a mystery.’

  There was silence, then he said slowly, ‘I think you could be right, Mum. I pretended we were engaged to make it easier for me to get the stuff from the shop. But Phoebe’s a good girl, if you know what I mean. Hasn’t been with any other fellows.’

  ‘How can you tell that?’

  ‘Shh. Keep your voice down. It was the way she blushed when I said something. Pink as a peony, she went. I’m beginning to think I’d better get married before this war gets much older. It stands to reason they’ll be taking the single fellows first.’

  ‘You come over on Sunday and have dinner with us. You can start courting her then. Talk to her nicely, mind. No bullying. Women don’t go for bullies and you do push your way around.’

  ‘It’s them as push who get the money, I’ve found. And I intend to make a lot of money out of this war.’

  ‘Profiteering? Frank, is that wise? People won’t like it.’

  ‘People can lump it. But I will come over on Sunday and spend some time with her. Let’s hope it’ll be fine so I can take her for a walk and kiss her a bit.’

  ‘Tell her she’s pretty, too. Women like compliments. And it’s true enough.’

  ‘All right. Words don’t cost anything. Hey, look at the time! I’d better get going now. My friends with the carts are waiting for me at the village pub.’

  He called a goodbye to Phoebe and Horace. His stepfather replied from upstairs, but Phoebe didn’t say a word. She was too indignant. Marry her for her possessions and to stay out of the army, would he? Well, he’d get a slap if he tried to force a kiss on her. She couldn’t stand him and nothing he did would ever change that.

  She wished she’d not gone to him for help with the furniture and stuff from the shop. She should have tried to find someone else to help her.

  When he realised she wasn’t going to let him court her, he’d probably not give her the curtains and other stuff back. Might was right, as far as he was concerned. Better lose them than give herself into his power, though.

  At least he didn’t know about the money the Steins had given her. She had to make a hiding place for that.

  When Cousin Janet came in, Phoebe pretended to wake up. ‘Oh, sorry. I must have fallen asleep. I’ll go straight up to bed, if that’s all right.’ She kept yawning and muttering about being tired as she climbed the steep, narrow stairs. She didn’t want Cousin Janet to suspect that she’d overheard them talking about her.

  Frank hadn’t made the slightest pretence that he was fond of her, or cared whether she was fond of him. All he wanted was a presentable wife and the money Phoebe would bring him.

  Lying in bed, with the curtains of the cramped little room open to show the clear, starry sky, she gradually grew less angry and her thoughts turned to the Steins. Where were her poor employers sleeping tonight? Were they being treated decently? She was particularly worried about Mr Stein, who had looked so ill and afraid as he was marched away.

  Once she was sure Horace and Janet were asleep, she lit her bedroom candle and sewed a money belt out of a tea towel. It was rough, and her stitches were more like tacking, but the belt would hold the banknotes safe under her clothes.

  As the next two days passed, she could only wonder how the war was going. Things were so cut off here at the farm. Horace and Janet didn’t even go into the village unless they had to, and would have stared if she’d said she felt like a walk. They had plenty of jobs for her to do, kept her busy from dawn till dusk.

  They didn’t even take a daily newspaper. Janet said there was only bad news these days and Horace didn’t seem to read anything, just sat gazing into the fire after he’d had his tea, then went to bed early.

  Phoebe would have to get hold of a newspaper and see if there were any jobs on offer as soon as she left here.

  Only how was she going to get away?

  On the Friday, Cousin Janet said, ‘Frank said he would be coming to dinner on Sunday. You know, I think he’s sweet on you, dear.’

  Phoebe didn’t like to say anything rude about Frank to his mother. ‘I may not be here on Sunday,’ she said. ‘I have to find myself a job.’

  ‘Oh, there’s no hurry for that. We like having you, don’t we, Horace?’

  ‘Mmm. Nice to have a pretty young face about the place.’

  ‘It’d make us very happy if you and Frank got together,’ Janet said when Horace had gone back outside to work.

  Phoebe forced a smile and decided not to protest about these hints. Instead she bent her mind to finding a way to escape before Sunday. They were a long way out of the village here, especially if you were carrying a heavy suitcase. And she suspected they’d try to stop her, maybe take her things away from her, to force her to wait till Frank arrived.

  She was determined to be away before then.

  Yet it was Cousin Janet herself who offered her visitor a possible way of getting back to Swindon.

  ‘You were saying you felt like going out for a stroll. Do you think you could fetch the milk money from the stone near the gate tomorrow morning, Phoebe, love? Bob always leaves the payments for us on Thursdays, but we never know quite what time he’ll arrive, later than usual, anyway. If you go, it’ll save Horace hanging about after he puts out the milk for collection.’

  ‘Yes, of course. What time should I get to the gate?’

  ‘You could ride down with Horace and walk back once you get the money. It’s going to be another sunny day, so you could take one of your books and sit reading. I never saw anyone who reads as much as you do. You’ll addle your brain with all them books. Still, you won’t have time for reading once you’re wed and the children start coming, so you might as well enjoy it now.’

  Phoebe breathed deeply and didn’t respond to this, waiting for the gentle flow of words to continue. She didn’t have to say much, just make the occasional noise or brief remark to show she was listening. Janet seemed starved of female companionship. Apart from her dislike of Frank, Phoebe didn’t want to live here in the middle of nowhere like Janet did.

  ‘I go into Swindon with Bob sometimes in the morning when I need to buy clothes and things you can’t find in the village. I get the bus back to the village afterwards and Horace picks me up when he takes the evening milk down to the gate. Bob’s a lovely fellow. Help anyone, he would. So … you’ll wait for the money tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m happy to help in any way I can. It’ll be good to stretch my legs a bit.’

  ‘My legs have been stretched too much,’ Janet joked, waggling one leg with its swollen an
kle at her. ‘At my age, I get tired out by the end of the day. If Frank doesn’t take over this farm, we’ll have to think of selling in a year or two. Me and Horace are getting a bit old for all the hard work.’

  She looked round and sighed. ‘I’d miss the place, though. I’ve lived in this house since we got married, though we had Horace’s father living with us at first. Perhaps when you marry Frank, you can persuade him to take over and let us live here. He could bring everything up to date and it’d pay better. It’s a lovely peaceful life and he’d be his own master. The lad’s had his fling, should be ready to settle down now, as I keep telling him.’

  She shot a quick glance at Phoebe, as if to assess her reaction.

  Frank wasn’t a lad in any sense that Phoebe knew. He was a bully and a lout, had been since he got his man’s growth. And he was lazy with it, never stirring himself unless he had to. ‘It’s early days for me to talk of marrying anyone, Janet. The country’s at war and I want to do my bit. I’m sure Frank does too.’

  ‘He doesn’t want to go into the army. He won’t put up with being ordered around, never has done, not even when he was a little boy. The times that schoolmaster gave him the cane! It upset me to see the weals. It never did any good, neither. Frank wouldn’t do as he was told if he set his mind against it, not if they killed him, he wouldn’t.’

  She shook her head, her eyes blind with memories, and continued to reminisce. ‘That last year he didn’t even go to school half the time. The rascal used to forge my signature on notes saying he’d been ill. Well, he was ill sometimes. No one complained to me, though, so I didn’t say anything. I think that schoolmaster was a bit afraid of him, he’d grown so big.’

  Phoebe could imagine that. She’d be afraid of Frank, too, if she was stupid enough to marry him. Which she wasn’t.

  She let Janet drone on till bedtime, then escaped to her room. As they had to go outside to the privy, no one would worry if they heard her go downstairs during the night.

  She packed her clothes as quickly as she could, thankful that it was a moonlit night, then lay down fully dressed till Cousin Horace began snoring and Janet stopped talking.