by Dilly Court
'I am the new housekeeper. Mr Hubble hired me this morning.'
'Housekeeper! That's a laugh. If you're the housekeeper, then I'm Queen Victoria.' She moved away and the door would have swung shut in Eloise's face if she had not shoved her suitcase over the doorsill with her foot. She dragged the valise over the step and edged into the hall, with Beth held firmly in one arm and Joss clinging to her hand. 'Wait a minute,' Eloise called after the fast disappearing woman. 'You will have to show me my room, and I need some help with my cases.'
The woman stopped and glanced over her shoulder, scowling. 'I don't have to do nothing, missis.'
'My name is Mrs Cribb, and I would be obliged if you would show me to my room, Miss – er – Mrs . . .'
'It's Agnes Smith. Miss Smith to you.' Agnes hobbled off down the passageway. 'Follow me then, unless you want to sleep on the doormat.' She led them down the hallway to a room at the back of the house. Thrusting the door open she stood aside to let Eloise pass. 'There you are. Make yourself comfortable, if you can.'
'But I thought this was Mrs Hubble's room,' Eloise said, hesitating. 'Mr Hubble said . . .'
Agnes threw back her head and laughed. 'He says lots of things. Like poor Mrs Hubble is sick. Well, I tells you, lady, she is more than sick. She's been dead this past four months. Dead and buried in St James's churchyard.'
A feeling of nausea swept over Eloise and for a moment she felt quite faint. 'And this was her room?'
Obviously enjoying herself, Agnes grinned. 'She died in that very bed, but it weren't nothing catching, she pegged out peaceful enough. Although there's some what might say a large dose of laudanum helped her on her way, but that's just gossip.'
'There must be some mistake,' Eloise murmured, peering nervously into the depths of the darkened room. 'Mr Hubble said . . .'
'Lord save us, missis. You don't want to pay no attention to what he says. He'd swear that day was night if it got him what he wanted.'
'But he said I was to help care for his sick wife?'
'He would say that. I'd put it out of me mind if I was you. Take a look inside. It ain't so bad, well it might need a bit of dusting, seeing as how it's been shut up since the old lady breathed her last. Don't stand there gawking, girl. She ain't still in there.'
Joss ran into the room but Eloise still hesitated. 'Why did Mr Hubble say his wife was still alive? Why did he tell an out and out lie to the vicar?'
Agnes pulled a poke of paper from her pocket and took a pinch of snuff. 'He's a crafty old sod, that's what he is. Folks round here know all about old man Hubble and his liking for pretty young women, except that he can't get them so easily nowadays, what with his gout and his lameness.'
The truth was slowly dawning on Eloise as she realised that the Reverend Martin Collins had been tricked into thinking Ephraim needed a house servant, when it appeared that the old man had other things on his mind. She was tempted to walk out of the house there and then, but it was late afternoon and her children were tired and hungry. She was exhausted after the emotionally draining events of the day, and the only other alternative would be to spend some of her fast dwindling money on a night's board in another lodging house or an inn. She stepped into the musty-smelling room and a shiver ran down her spine. The curtains were closed, and when Eloise drew them back she half expected to discover the corpse of Mrs Hubble laid out on the bed. A shaft of sunlight filled with dancing dust motes filtered in through grimy windowpanes, but a quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that the bed was empty. Strangely enough, the room was not as awful as she had first thought. The single bedstead was covered by a white counterpane, which appeared to be reasonably clean. There was a washstand with a jug and basin decorated with violets and primroses, a rocking chair with a faded chintz cushion on its seat, an empty bookcase and a tallboy in one corner. A thick layer of dust covered everything like a sprinkling of sugar on sour fruit, but that could easily be remedied with the use of a duster. If she cleaned the ashes out of the grate and lit a fire, it would soon take the chill off the room and the simple act of opening the window would clear the air. Eloise set Beth down on a rug and went to fling up the sash. A gusty breeze laden with the smell of hops and yeast from the nearby brewery ruffled her hair and made the curtains billow out like ragged sails.
'You're well suited then?' Agnes demanded from the doorway. 'You ain't going to skitter off like a scared cat as the last one did?'
Eloise turned to face her. 'There have been others?'
'Half a dozen at least. They never lasted more than a week. I give you twenty-four hours at the most. Just you wait until he puts his hand up your skirt; you won't look so confident then, lady.'
'I shan't put myself in that position,' Eloise said firmly. 'Thank you for warning me, Miss Smith. I'll be on my guard.'
'Best lock your door tonight then, or you might get a nasty surprise.' Agnes turned to leave but Eloise called her back.
'Miss Smith, what time is supper? And could I have some warm milk and bread and butter for the children?'
Agnes curled her lip. 'I only cook for him upstairs. You'll have to find your own food.'
'Oh!' Taken aback, Eloise stared at her in surprise. 'Well, all right. I have not come prepared, but if you'll tell me where the kitchen is . . .'
'My kitchen is in the basement, but I don't like people interfering with my things. I'll tell you that for nothing.' Agnes stomped off muttering beneath her breath.
Eloise would have followed her, but out of the corner of her eye she saw that Joss was playing with something small and furry. She hurried over to him and bit back a cry of disgust as she saw that his new toy was a dead mouse. She picked it up by the tail and hurled it out of the window. Joss began to cry and she went down on her knees to cuddle him. 'It's all right, sweetheart. Mama will make everything come right for you and Beth.' Eloise held her arm out to Beth who was crawling over to her with a trusting smile on her small face. Eloise hugged them both to her breast. They had all been through so much in such a short space of time; surely things could not get much worse?
'Hungry, Mama,' Joss said, pulling away from her and rubbing his tummy. 'Want a drink.'
Eloise dashed a tear from her eyes and she rose to her feet, lifting Beth in her arms. 'Of course, you must be very hungry and thirsty. Come along, Joss, let's go down to the kitchen and see what we can find to eat.' She took him by the hand and went to look for the back stairs which led down to the basement kitchen. Just let that woman get in my way, Eloise thought with a militant twitch of her shoulders, if she dares say one more word out of place I will show her that I didn't live in Myrtle Street for three years without learning how to stand up for myself. How far away that life seemed now. Eloise made her way down the narrow staircase to the basement. How it would grieve Ronnie if he could see to what depths she had fallen. But sadly, Ronnie was gone forever, and there was no use dwelling on what she had lost.
She entered the kitchen ready to do battle, and found Agnes seated by the range with her feet up on the brass rail, holding a stone bottle to her lips. Judging by the satisfied smile on her face and a certain amount of sighing and lipsmacking, Eloise could only assume that Agnes was drinking something stronger than lemonade. Ignoring her, she set Beth down on the flagstones, which were covered with white sand; or at least it must have once been white but was now mixed with the carapaces of dead cockroaches, half-eaten crusts of bread and scattered vegetable peelings. Joss squatted down and began to trace patterns in it with the tips of his chubby fingers, and Eloise had to snatch a dry crust from Beth's hand as she tried to put it in her mouth.
Whatever it was that Agnes did in this house, cleaning was certainly not her priority. The large, deal table was littered with dirty crockery, a heel of cheese and a loaf of bread that was sprouting a coat of blue mould. A piece of meat was barely recognisable beneath a shifting mass of bluebottles, and an earthenware jug was filled with milk that had curdled and formed a sour smelling cheese which would not turn out no ma
tter how hard Eloise shook it over the stone sink. The larder was even more of a nightmare, and a large black rat scuttled out as Eloise opened the door. It streaked across the kitchen and disappeared through a hole in the wall that was large enough for a cat to slither through. Eloise felt sick, but she stifled a cry of dismay and continued her search for something edible. The shelves were thick with dust and cobwebs hung from the ceiling of the larder. There was a bag of flour but the resident rodents had gnawed a hole in it, and what they had not managed to consume was spread all over the floor where ants were busy carting away crumbs of bread and swarming over an open jam pot.
'You won't find nothing to eat in there,' Agnes called out in a slurred voice. 'Him above stairs ain't allowed nothing but boiled fish and cabbage – doctor's orders on account of his gout. You'll have to go to the pie shop on the corner if you want food.'
Eloise bit back an angry retort. Why hadn't the wretched woman told her this in the first place? She snatched up Beth who was attempting to gnaw on a chop bone, and she howled miserably when Eloise took it from her. 'Come along, Joss. Mama will take you out for supper.'
'You'll have to go out the back way,' Agnes said, taking another hefty swig from the bottle. 'There's only one key to the front door and he keeps it in his pocket, just like the jailer he always was. Be thankful he don't keep leg irons or manacles in the attic' She let out a roar of laughter and lay back in the chair, rocking it and closing her eyes. 'Don't disturb me when you come back. I need me sleep.'
Eloise said nothing as she led Joss out through the small scullery which was just as untidy as the kitchen and filled with all manner of rubbish from broken teapots to buckets with missing handles, piles of rotting vegetables and old shoes. The wooden steps leading up from the area were rotted in places and there were gaps where a couple of treads had broken off completely. It was a hazardous ascent and led to a back yard which housed the pump with a stone trough covered in green slime, and a privy which, judging by the noxious smell and the cloud of blowflies buzzing around the door, was in an even more parlous state than the house. Eloise hurried past it and out into the service lane at the back of the terrace.
They ate their supper in the pie shop and on their way home Eloise purchased a china jug from a stall holder, and she stopped off at the dairy to buy a pint of milk. There was a bakery next door and she decided to get up early in the morning to get some fresh rolls for their breakfast. It was patently obvious now that their food was not included in the forty pounds a year, and even if it had been, she would not have wanted to feed her children with anything that came from the kitchens in Ephraim Hubble's house.
It was a balmy night and the trees surrounding the green were bathed in a soft golden glow from the gaslights. The air smelt much fresher now that the warmth of daytime in early June had dissolved into a hazy, heliotrope dusk. Late shoppers moved in and out of the shadows and the pools of light made by the naphtha flares on the market stalls, which were just beginning to close down after a long day's trading. Out here on the green life seemed normal and the people were cheerful and friendly. Eloise did not want to return to the sombre prison-like house, but she had no choice. Beth was grubby but her cheeks were rosy as she slept against her mother's shoulder, and Joss was hanging on to her hand, stumbling along beside her like a small sleepwalker. She must get them washed and put to bed. There was no alternative but to go back to the room where Ephraim's wife had so recently passed away.
Eloise patted her pocket and felt the reassuring crackle of paper from the envelope containing Mama's letter. She had saved it up for last; a reassuring little slice of home to be savoured in private. She would read it by candlelight when the children were asleep.
Mindful of Agnes's warning, once they were safely inside Eloise locked her bedroom door, and to make doubly certain she wedged a chair beneath the doorknob. It had not been possible to wash the children properly, but she had cleaned them up as best as she could at the pump and they were now sound asleep, curled up in two of the drawers from the chest. A fire burned brightly in the grate, although the chimney obviously needed sweeping and occasional puffs of smoke belched into the room, but the flames threw out a comforting light and had taken the chill and smell of must from the air. Seated on the floor by the fire, Eloise read and reread her mother's letter. It was disappointingly short, but Mama assured her that they were all quite well, although Papa had gone down with a fever almost as soon as they landed in Mombasa, and she had been at his bedside night and day until the crisis had past. He was now on the mend and they were looking forward to travelling inland to the mission. Eloise was not certain that she entirely believed this, but Mama was loyal to the core and even had she hated the place wild horses would not have dragged such an admission from her. Instead, she devoted half a page to descriptions of Mombasa itself, of the mission there and the people who ran it, of the heat and the exotic fauna and flora, and the native population with their colourful dress and wonderful dark skins that varied from burnished bronze to deepest ebony. Mama it seemed had fallen in love with Africa itself, but that was no recompense for the pain of being parted from her daughter and grandchildren, and Eloise detected an understated longing for home as she read between the lines. She reread the last paragraph, with tears trickling down her cheeks.
I must finish now, my dearest daughter, or I will miss the post for England, which must go on the next mail ship out of Mombasa. I have not yet received a letter from you, but I hope to do so before we leave for the hinterland. I hope and pray that you and the children are settling down in Cribb's Hall and that Hilda and Harcourt are treating you as their own, dear daughter, as I know I would if circumstances were reversed. Do write to me soon, dearest, and tell me all about little Joss and Beth. It is so hard to be parted from you all and to know that I am missing all the precious milestones of their childhood. But my thoughts are always with you, Ellie my darling. I count the days until I see you and my dear grandchildren again. I kiss the paper so that you can embrace Joss and Beth and tell them it comes from their loving Grandmama.
Papa sends his love to you all, as I send mine.
Your ever-loving Mama.
PS Janet sends all her love too. Sadly she does not like the heat and I know that she pines for home, but she is too loyal to me to complain.
Eloise folded the letter and put it back carefully in the envelope. She tucked it safely away in her writing case, but she was too exhausted and emotionally drained to pen any words tonight. As she scrambled to her feet, she looked round the shabby room with a shudder. This was not how it was supposed to be. She could never have imagined that they would come to this, and yet it was better than being a virtual prisoner in Cribb's Hall with all that entailed. As she undressed by the fire, she thought of poor Ada who was now at peace, and of Meg, who might be her natural daughter, but would never know the truth of her parentage. She thought of dear, kind Reggie, and his proposal of marriage. If only she could have loved him just a little, but she could not go against her own heart, and she could not do him the disservice of marrying him for security alone. She sincerely hoped that he would rekindle his romance with Maud, and that they would have a long and happy life together. As she slipped her nightgown over her head, she thought longingly of her comfortable room in the farmhouse, of Gladys's motherly kindness and of Frank, who said little, but had been unfailingly kind and patient. As she climbed into bed, she tried not to think about poor Mrs Hubble. What a dreadful life that woman must have had with her husband. It did not bear thinking about, nor the way in which she had died. Eloise lay down convinced that she would not be able to sleep a wink.
She was awakened by the rattling of the doorknob, and she sat bolt upright drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them as she strained her ears to catch the slightest sound. The fire had died away to a few glowing embers and their feeble light sent monstrous shadows shifting and moving in the corners of the room. The events of yesterday came flooding back to her and Elois
e sat rigid and frozen with fear. Was it the ghost of the departed Mrs Hubble who had come back to haunt her? The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she shivered, but then she realised that the scraping and shuffling noises came from the other side of the locked door. It sounded as though someone was trying unsuccessfully to insert a key into the lock, and the key on her side of the door jiggled, but remained firm. The doorknob turned slowly, and Eloise held her breath. Her heart was hammering inside her ribcage and the blood was pounding in her ears. She had no doubt that it was Ephraim who was trying to get into the room, and she willed him to go away. The chair wedged beneath the handle shifted a little, but it held fast, and Eloise could have wept from sheer relief. She had not really believed Agnes, but now she was so glad that she had heeded her warning and had locked and barred the door. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end like those of a terrified animal, and she was sweating in spite of the chill of the night. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the rattling ceased and she heard shuffling footsteps and the tip-tapping of a cane on the bare floorboards as Ephraim went away. She collapsed back against the pillows, breathing heavily and trembling all over, but then anger overcame fear and she sat up again, clenching her fists. This could not be allowed to go on. If she was to stay here for any length of time, she would have to come to an understanding with Mr Ephraim Hubble.
Sleep evaded her for the rest of the night. How long she lay there, planning what she would say to her employer first thing in the morning, she did not know, but as the first streaks of a grey dawn split the night sky Eloise rose from her bed and dressed herself, fumbling with the laces on her stays. She was all fingers and thumbs this morning, but she was determined to take control of events before they spiralled out of hand. The children were still fast asleep and she took the opportunity to slip out of the room, locking the door behind her. She crept down the back stairs and out into the yard where she had to use the disgusting privy, and then washed as best she could at the pump. She held her head under the cold stream of water, regardless of the fact that it dampened her blouse. Feeling better, she shook the water from her long, dark hair and wrapped it in the scrap of towel she had found on the washstand in the bedroom. She went back to her room to check on Joss and Beth. Poor little things, she thought, as she looked lovingly down at their faces so innocent and vulnerable as they slept. What have I brought you to?
