Up, Back, and Away

by K. Velk

  Miles had gotten used to the ritual and, after he had learned all the prayers and responses, he found he liked going to Chapel, or at least didn’t mind it. The village organist was a talented musician and she played at every service. He liked all kinds of music, including, he now found, church music. And as there was nothing required of him except that he follow along and keep reasonably still, he was grateful for the quiet forty five minutes rest before his work began.

  He wasn’t, however, keen on sermons and homilies. As soon as the Rev. Evans headed for the pulpit, Miles’ attention would begin to drift. He studied the pictures in the stained glass windows, admired the ingenious hammer-beam ceiling, or silently read the names of the war dead on the memorial tablets that appeared in three places in the Chapel. This little bit of seated tourism fired his imagination and got him through the dull stretches. In fact, the only real unpleasantness about Chapel was the presence of Mrs. Grimwald.

  Miles had learned during his third-grade unit on the Pilgrims that there was a man called “the Knocker” who was assigned to sit at the back of Puritan churches. The Knocker held a long pole with a knob on the end and he used it to hit the heads of men and boys who drifted off to sleep during the services. (The other end of the pole was fitted with a raccoon tail to brush the faces of women and girls who committed the same offense). Mrs. Grimwald, he thought, would have made a champion Knocker. Every day, she sat in the back row on the women’s side of the aisle where she could keep an eye on everyone.

  This division of the sexes was one of the strange rules at Sessions Chapel. Women sat on the left and men to the right. On this particular Monday, following the night of “Let It Be,” the routine of Chapel started as usual, but as the little congregation shuffled in, Miles saw there was something completely new in the old Chapel. Rather, someone new.

  A fresh face appeared on the left side of the aisle just after Miles had taken his seat in his accustomed pew. It belonged to a girl. She was about eighteen or nineteen years old, he judged, and dressed in a maid’s uniform. Her red-brown hair was pulled into an untidy bun.

  It was her!

  The fact struck him like forked lightning. He nearly reeled. It was her, he felt sure, but why? She was an ordinary enough looking sort of girl; plumper than Violet and a bit taller than her, though not so tall as Rhonda. Still, there was something in the expression on her face, and the way that she moved – she plumped down and skidded into the junior maids’ pew in a way that was just different from other 1928 girls. The maid’s uniform looked silly on her, like a costume. She stood out like a bad actress in a play in which she resented having to appear.

  Miles’ heart thudded in a way that actually felt dangerous, as though it might explode. He dropped his hymnal and Mrs. Grimwald immediately (and futilely) shushed the noise it made. Who was she? And where had they been hiding her?

  Rhonda and Violet obviously knew the mystery girl. The trio exchanged whispers as they took their places. The new girl said something and rolled her eyes and Rhonda giggled, which brought another immediate “Shhh!” from Mrs. Grimwald in the back.

  Why hadn’t he seen her, or at least heard about her? It was a big house, true, but not so big that a new servant wouldn’t have immediately registered on all its occupants. Was this her first day? That didn’t seem likely. Could it be that he was just so insignificant that no one bothered to tell him there was another servant on staff? Probably that was it. What could it matter to him? Miles stole glances at her throughout the service. She didn’t seem to notice him at all, however. She wore an unhappy, bored expression throughout. He noticed that while she had all the responses down for the prayers and the creed, that she did not sing a word of any of the hymns.

  The rule was that the servants’ work started immediately after Chapel. Miss Everett was going back to London that day and Miles had been assigned to deal with all her baggage. Once Miss Everett was off, he was to help Nell clean the kitchen. With all his work he would have no chance to talk to the new girl, or even to Rhonda or Violet, until tea time at least and maybe not then! The prospect was painful.

  Mrs. Grimwald caught his shoulder as he passed her pew on the way out of fateful service, derailing his barreling train of thought.

  “We come to Chapel to worship God, Miles – not to ogle young women.” She was very close to him and he was struck again by the sense that he had known her before. Her disapproving look was one that he had seen in his other life. He said nothing, though. He might not know much, but he had learned that it never paid to engage with Mrs. Grimwald.

  37. Who’s That Girl?

  After Miss Everett was finally packed off, Miles chanced to meet Rhonda and Violet on the back stairs. The girls were on their way up to clean the room that their former headmistress had just vacated.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that there was another one of you here?” He demanded.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Violet asked, affronted by his tone.

  “Oh, I know,” Rhonda said, as though a light bulb had blinked on over her head. “Meddy was back in Chapel today - must be for the first time since Miles got here.”

  “Oh, right…” Violet winked at him suggestively. “Now that you mention it, that’s right. Meddy wouldn’t have been any place where you would have seen her these last weeks. She’s been in disgrace.”

  “As usual,” Rhonda added. “Mrs. Grimwald sent her to clean the cellars, and the attics, and every odd corner of the place as hasn’t seen a broom or a brush since before the war.”

  “And she’s ‘ad to take her meals alone in her room and learn Bible verses,” Violet said. “She ‘asn’t been mixin’ with the other staff since that Chapel incident.”

  “What incident?” Miles asked. “And what’s her name? Are you saying ‘Mary’?”

  Violet was obviously enjoying his distress. “And why do you care so much about our Meddy, young Master McTavish? Did you like what you saw? Too bad, as she’ll have nothin’ to do with the likes of you.” A look passed between the two girls, along with more smiles at his expense.

  “It’s not what you think, believe me,” he stammered. “I just can’t believe that I have been working in the house for almost a month and there’s someone who’s been living here that I haven’t even seen til today. Did she come from St. Hild’s too?”

  “All three of us came over together,” said Rhonda. “Difference is that Violet and I wanted to come and Meddy was brought along more or less kickin’ and screamin’.”

  “It was for her own good,” Vi said. “But things’ve gone badly for her, as anyone might’ve expected.”

  “What do you mean? What’s Mary’s problem?” Miles was trying to speak quietly. These back stairs conversations were severely disapproved by Mr. Scott as well as Mrs. Grimwald.

  “Not ‘Mary,’” Violet said. “Meddy, that’s M-E-D-D-Y. That was her nickname at school. Her Christian name’s Ada, but for the last eleven years we’ve all of us been hearing every day, ‘Ada, I despair of you.’” She mimicked Miss Everett’s upper-class accent perfectly. “Didn’t take long for us shorten “Miss Everett’s Despair” to ‘M.E.D.’ or ‘Meddy.’”

  “Well, what’s her problem?” Miles asked again, his eyes darting from face to face.

  Violet laughed. “Oh, where to begin…”

  “Actually,” Rhonda said thoughtfully, “she got through the first two weeks or so right enough, didn’t she? She got into that big trouble, must’ve been, what? Just about the day Miles started in the ‘ouse I reckon.”

  Violet nodded. “That’s right. But you know, you have to give Med a bit of credit. She really tried to toe the line, at least those first weeks… You could see she were makin’ the effort.”

  “She just doesn’t ‘ave it in her, does she?” Rhonda asked her friend.

  “No. I don’t think she does. A leopard can’t change its spots.”

  “What!? What!?” Miles said, louder than he had intended. “You’ve got to help me Rhonda!” His o
dd plea, and odder vehemence, earned him a cross-eyed look, but Rhonda began,

  “Well, the first sign of trouble were her sleepin’ in. Med just could not seem to get out of bed in the morning. You can imagine how that went over.”

  “The problems with her uniform started right away too…” Violet added. “And then that day in Chapel…”

  “I thought sure they would send her packing after that, and don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” Rhonda brayed.

  “Apparently Miss Everett and Lady Fisher still ain’t quite ready to give her up. Course, if Mrs. Grimwald had her way, Meddy would be long gone by now, even if that meant a fate worse than death.”

  Having been sent down this interesting line of inquiry, the girls were talking to one another and ignoring him completely.

  “What did she do that was so bad?”

  “Well,” Violet said, winding up in the way of a person who has a good story to tell, then her features froze. “Well… Rhon, we ought to get up to the Italian Room. Oughtn’t we?”

  “Yes,” came the steely voice of Mrs. Grimwald from the landing below them. “Yes, you should get up the to Italian Room directly girls. Miles, Nell is waiting for you, has been waiting for you, in the kitchen.”

  Sometimes being a serving boy was just more than Miles could bear.

  38. Can We Talk?

  Miles didn’t dare ask Nell where Ada had been assigned to work that day. All conversation with Nell had to be shouted and showing an interest would invite unwelcome speculation. He was sure that Mrs. Grimwald would hear about it, and that would not help. He needed to keep things on the down low, but that was easier said than done. He was burning to talk to Ada and he realized with mounting despair that doing so would not be easy.

  He couldn’t possibly go into the maids’ quarters. To be caught even on the stairs to their rooms was to risk instant dismissal. Meals were also a problem. Every dinner conversation was presided over by Mr. Scott and Mrs. Grimwald. Stolen moments were the best he could hope for and, as Miles had learned, Mrs. Grimwald was omnipresent. Worse yet, Ada was already in big trouble and being watched like a parolee.

  Miles felt almost more desperate than he had before he had seen her. This, at last, was “The Girl” that he had been sent across so much space and time to find, and he couldn’t get near her. Making matters even worse, it was obvious that she had no clue that there was anything special about Miles, and he, as yet, had no idea why she was the one. He just had to talk with her – and not with Rhon and Vi standing by making jokes at a cigarette break. And then, oh God, what would he say? He could just hear himself:

  “Hello Ada. My name is Miles. You don’t know me, but I am from the future. I have come back in time on an old bicycle to remove you from your world and take you back with me to mine, which is not only in the future but also in America. Actually, I am not sure if we will be able to get back at all, as it appears that the time portal that brought me here is at least half ruined, but we might as well give it a try. Maybe you can sit on the handlebars of my magic time traveling bicycle. Oh, and be sure to duck as we go past that oak tree.”

  It was all so ridiculous and awkward he couldn’t do anything but laugh. It was either that or cry and he wasn’t about to cry.

  The kitchen cleaning took the whole middle part of that long day and was a mercy in its way. Scrubbing walls and shifting furniture gave him an outlet for his nervous energy. Old Nell pulled down every pot hanging from every hook and every seldom-used platter or dish came off its shelf and went into the deep sinks. Miles scrubbed and lifted and kneeled and stretched, they even washed the ceiling. It was exhausting work.

  Eubank whimpered the whole while behind the door to Nell’s room, which was just off the kitchen. Hard of hearing as she was, Nell didn’t notice, but it pained Miles. Finally, after the floor had dried, Miles asked Nell if Eubank could be released. She shook her head sadly.

  “No. No. He’s in disgrace wi’ Mrs. Grimwald and if she sees ‘im loose again in the kitchen I’m afraid of what she might do.”

  Miles’ last kitchen cleaning job was to replace the enormous butcher’s block at the end of a long table. A gardener’s boy had been available to help move it in the morning but now Miles was on his own.

  “Mind you don’t try to slide it back into place, you’ll break the feet off sure!” Nell commanded, keeping a watchful eye. Miles had to hug the enormous, awkward block to his chest and hoist it by main force. He was amazed to find that he was able to do it, although it was lucky that he didn’t have far to carry it.

  Nell, however, was gratifyingly impressed. “Strong as a mine pony, aren’t ye? Oh, but look, you’ve burst the buttons on your vest.”

  Two of the “F” emblazoned gold buttons were indeed on the floor. Miles doubted they had burst off, more likely he had scraped them off on the edge of the block, but he liked the idea of having split them off. “Run now and get another and I’ll mend that ‘un,” Nell said.

  Miles was not supposed to be in his room during working hours, but he was required to keep his uniform in good order, so he did as she said. The last flight of stairs to his room was twisting and narrow and as he came bounding around the last turn, he came upon Ada, wielding a broom and a dustpan.

  He staggered as though she had thrown a javelin at him instead of a mere startled look. For an instant she looked as panicked as he felt, but his backwards lurch and mad grab for the wall behind him must have been comic because, after the first terrified moment, she burst out laughing.

  “Are you all right?” she asked through a gale of laughter. “You looked just like Buster Keaton there for a tick.”

  “I’m fine. I think. I’m Miles.” His heart felt like it would beat out of his chest.

  “You aren’t meant to be up here now,” she said accusingly. “Grimmy told me you ‘ad a room on this floor but she said you wouldn’t be back up til tea time at least.”

  “I have to get my other vest. The buttons came off this one.”

  She looked him up and down. “So they ‘ave. Well, we better get a move on or we’ll catch it.” She tried to push around him. He caught her by the arm – harder than he meant to.

  “No, wait a minute, please. I saw you in Chapel this morning, you’re Ada, or Meddy.”

  She drew herself up and gave him outraged look. “Take your hand off me.”

  He did so immediately.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I just wanted to talk with you. I’m Miles. I’m a friend of Rhonda and Violet’s.”

  “I know who you are. I’m Ada Ardilaun, though I’m not sure it’s any of your business.”

  “So you don’t like ‘Meddy?’ I’ll call you Ada if that’s OK. I didn’t know you were here. I mean, working at Sessions. I wanted to talk to you. I, this will sound strange, but I think I was sent here to find you.”

  “Is Grimmy lookin’ for me again?” She looked panic-stricken.

  “No. Sorry. What I meant was, well, I wasn’t sent by anyone here to find you. I guess really I need a chance to talk to you about what I mean. Is there someplace we could meet and talk alone, privately, I mean?”

  She gave him a look that said clearer than words, “Oh, now I get it.”

  “How old are you?” is what she actually said.

  “Fifteen, but it’s not like what you’re thinking. I mean, it’s really complicated. It’s really, really complicated.”

  “The answer is ‘no,’ there’s no place for us to meet and talk. Also, just so you know, I’m not even going to be here in a week so don’t waste your breath trying to impress me. Now get out of my way before I get sent back to the cellars to brush spiders again.”

  She pushed passed him. Why wouldn’t she be there in a week? She couldn’t go! He panicked.

  “Where are you going?” He shouted at her back.

  “Home!” she yelled as she continued her descent.

  He had to think of something. “But isn’t this your home now? I thought you were
an orphan?”

  She stopped at the door and narrowed her eyes at him. “And now why would that be any of your business?”

  Disaster! He had screwed up this whole thing.

  “Just, I wondered what ‘home’ you were talking about?”

  “The one I am going to make for myself!” Ada shouted as she clambered with her broom and dustpan out of sight.

  39. Getting to Know All About You

  Ada appeared in the Servants’ Hall for dinner that night for the first time since Miles’ move to the indoor staff. She sat silently, looking up only occasionally, and always with an aggrieved expression. She was restless, shifting this way and that on her chair, moving her food around with her fork and eating little. Miles tried smiling in her direction. On the one occasion that their eyes met, she stuck her tongue out at him.

  Mrs. Grimwald was the only one at the table who spoke to her directly and that was as dessert was being passed. “Stop fidgeting, Ada. You look as though someone had put a conch shell under you.” Rhonda and Violet laughed. Ada asked to be excused and Mrs. Grimwald waved her away. “Leave the dessert.”

  Ada then pushed her chair under the table with a provoking force that rattled the dishes. All the rest of the diners braced for a storm – but Mrs. Grimwald gave no indication that she had noticed. She looked at the departing figure impassively and stirred some milk into her tea. The chair shove would be dealt with later, Miles felt sure.

  There was leisure time after dinner and Miles, Rhonda and Violet generally turned up in the sewing room, which served as a kind of servant’s sitting room, to listen to the wireless for an hour or so before bed. Miles inwardly pleaded for Ada to make an appearance, but she did not. After the radio was switched off, he asked Rhonda and Vi, in a way he hoped sounded casual, why Ada hadn’t come down.