Above the Bright Blue Sky

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘Liver and onions, Miss Thomson. I’ve gorrit braising in th’ oven already, an’ I’ll mash some spuds to go with it.’ So that was what she could smell, thought Audrey.

  ‘Potatoes, please, Daisy,’ said Miss Thomson reprovingly. ‘And – I-have-got-it-braising-in-the-oven,’ she added precisely. ‘How many times do you need telling? Try to speak correctly, girl.’

  ‘Oh aye; I keep forgetting. Sorry, Miss Thomson.’ Daisy grinned. ‘And rhubarb crumble for afters.’

  Miss Thomson sniffed again, but this time it seemed to be a sniff of satisfaction. ‘That sounds very good. And just for today, while we have a visitor, you may eat in the dining room with me, Daisy. Just this once, mind; after that…we will have to see. Off you go now, both of you. Make sure Audrey washes her hands and face, although I don’t think she will need reminding. She seems a very clean and tidy little girl, not like some of them that were there. That’s why I chose her, because I thought she might fit in here with me.’

  ‘OK then, Audrey luv. Give us yer bag and I’ll show you what’s what. Just foller me.’ Daisy led the way up the stairs to the first floor landing.

  There were several doors opening off it and Audrey paused, thinking that one of these rooms would be her bedroom. Through a partly open door she could see a double bed covered with a green satin eiderdown and a massive wardrobe with a carving of curlicued leaves on the front.

  ‘That’s ’er Ladyship’s bedroom,’ said Daisy. ‘And this ’ere is the bathroom.’ She pushed open a door to reveal a bath cased in mahogany and a large wash basin. ‘An’ a separate lav next door. Do yer want to go, luv?’ She opened the next door.

  ‘Perhaps I will in a minute,’ said Audrey, feeling a bit shy. ‘Which is my room then?’

  ‘Oh, it’s not down here,’ said Daisy, although there were three more doors not opened. ‘You and me, we’re up in the Gods. Come on; up the wooden hill we go.’

  She led the way up a narrower staircase carpeted, not with the rich red carpet of the lower floors and landing, but with a coarse brown matting. ‘Here we are, up in the attic. That one’s mine and this is yours. It ain’t so bad, though. We’ve gorra great view from up here, all over t’ place.’

  Daisy pushed open the door and they entered a small room with a sloping ceiling and a little window that poked out of the roof. Audrey put her shoulder bag and gas mask case on to the bed, on top of the white woven counterpane, and went over to the window. As Daisy had said, it was a great view overlooking the front garden and the green, and beyond to a range of hills; and across the green was the rectory where Maisie had gone to live.

  ‘That’s where my friend, Maisie, has gone,’ she said pointing. ‘Over there.’

  ‘What, in the rectory?’ said Daisy. ‘Oh, she’ll be OK with the Rev and Mrs Fairchild; they’re real nice. Lucky thing, eh? You’ll be all right though, an’ all. I’ll look after you, Audrey. Now, tek off yer coat and let’s get all yer stuff into t’ wardrobe. And there’s a little chest of drawers, so you’ll have plenty of room. And, like I said, the bathroom’s on the floor below, and the lav. But there’s a potty under yer bed in case you want to go in the night. Them stairs is a bit dangerous, like, in the dark.’ She lifted the white counterpane to show a chamber pot with a design of pink flowers.

  ‘Oh…I don’t usually…’ said Audrey, feeling embarrassed.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, luv,’ said Daisy cheerfully. ‘I’ll empty it in t’ morning. I use one an’ all when I have to.’

  ‘I think I’ll go now, to the proper toilet, I mean,’ said Audrey.

  ‘OK; off you pop then. I’ll be putting this stuff away…’

  Audrey had got over her tears now. She still felt bewildered, though, and she knew if she started to think about her mother and father back in Armley she would start to cry again, so she tried to concentrate on what was happening in this new place; she could not yet think of it as her home. She knew she was lucky to be staying in such a nice big house. She still wasn’t sure about Miss Thomson, but Daisy, the maid, was nice and friendly. She thought she might have had a bigger bedroom, though; perhaps one of those on the first landing. She had a nice big bedroom at home, all to herself, with much posher furniture and carpets than in the small bedroom here. Audrey was used to her creature comforts, unlike Maisie, her new friend. She had not known much about Maisie until today, but Audrey guessed that she had had to share a bedroom with her little brother and sister and, also, that their lav would be in a shed at the bottom of the garden.

  ‘Righty-ho then,’ said Daisy when Audrey returned to the bedroom. ‘Let’s get back downstairs.’

  They went into a large kitchen at the back of the house. Miss Thomson was nowhere to be seen. ‘I’ve already peeled the spuds – sorry, I mean potatoes,’ laughed Daisy, ‘so I’ll just put ’em on to boil. She’s always trying to get me to talk proper is her Ladyship, but I don’t allus remember. It’s hard work anyroad, trying to talk posh.’

  ‘She’s not really a Lady, is she?’ asked Audrey. ‘You know – like Lords and Ladies?’

  ‘No, of course she isn’t, but she’d like to be. She’s not so bad though, old Amelia, when you get to know her. I give as good as I get, y’see, so she’s ’ad to get used to me. I know how far I can go with her though; so far and no further. I’ve been with her for ten years, ever since I left school. I’ve lived in for the last couple o’ years.’

  ‘Are you the only maid?’ Audrey went on to ask. ‘My friend, Maisie, she said she bet Miss Thomson had loads of servants.’

  Daisy laughed. ‘Oh, no doubt she’d like to, like it was in the olden days. But times change, don’t they? And now there’s only me. I’m the maid of all work, you might say. But I’m also the ’ead cook and bottle washer; I can please meself what I do a lot of the time. I’m not complaining. Here – make yerself useful. You can lay the table in t’ dining room if I find you the knives and forks and spoons. She says I can dine with ’er tonight, and that’s a turn up for the book, I can tell yer. I’m usually on me ownyown in ’ere… Here y’are; here’s the cutlery, that’s the proper word, ain’t it? And the table mats are in that there drawer…’

  Miss Thomson was somewhat surprised at the way Daisy had taken the evacuee girl under her wing. The young woman was used to children, of course, being the eldest of a large family. But she had not had much to do with them since she had come to live in, only visiting her home, at the other end of the village, on her day off. She had declared, also, that she was glad to get away from the youngest two, eight-year-old twins who were reputed to lead her mother no end of a dance.

  As for her, Amelia Thomson, she had had no dealings at all with children, not since her own long ago childhood. Her father had been the manager of a woollen mill down in the valley, and his shares in the company, through his friendship with the owner, had enabled him to buy this house in Church Square. Amelia, the youngest of four children, two boys and then two girls, had lived there all her life. Her brothers had married and moved away; so had her sister; and when her father had retired and her mother had fallen ill it had been taken for granted that Amelia should be the one to care for them both. She had never gone out to work, except in the office at the mill on a part-time basis. She remembered the days when they had employed a trio of maids, as well as a cook, and a seamstress who came in to help her mother with the household linen, although they had never aspired to a butler.

  At least she, Amelia, had been left the house after the death of both her parents. Her brothers and sister had agreed that that was only right, as they all had homes of their own plus a goodly share of their father’s capital.

  Amelia was not poor, not by any means, but she watched the pennies carefully. She knew, although she seldom admitted it, that her maid, Daisy, was a veritable treasure. She did the cooking, washing, cleaning and shopping single-handedly, with scarcely a grumble. Occasionally Miss Thomson employed Daisy’s mother, Mrs Kitson, to help out with a bit of the rough work, especially at
spring cleaning time, and Sid, the gardener was needed to keep the grounds in perfect order, just as Amelia’s father would have wished.

  She knew, however, that Daisy was long overdue for a raise in her wages. Amelia had a plan. There was no reason at all why her maid should not take complete charge of the evacuee girl, if she was to make it worth Daisy’s while; a few more shillings a week, maybe. And, of course, there would be an allowance for taking an evacuee, so she would hardly be out of pocket. Daisy had already shown a certain fondness for the child, and it really would be better that way. She, Amelia, would hardly ever need to see the little girl, except perhaps on Daisy’s day off. But she would deal with that problem when it arose…

  Chapter Eight

  Maisie stared around the church at the huge stone pillars; at the stained glass windows with the morning sunlight filtering through them, making dappled pools of colour, red, blue, green and gold intermingling on the stone-flagged floor; and at the large wooden cross at the front of the church over what she thought was called the altar. It was quite a while since she had been inside a church and her recollections were hazy. There was a blue velvet cloth on the altar, embroidered with gold letters, fancy ones which read IHS, and in the middle was a smaller silver cross and a pair of silver vases filled with autumn flowers; michelmas daisies, vibrant dahlias, and chrysanthemums in glowing shades of orange, deep crimson and yellow.

  She was sitting with Aunty Patience in a pew near the front of the church which, she guessed, was reserved for the rector’s family. But Luke did not have a family, only his wife, Patience. She had met Luke again at breakfast time this morning, and when she saw him she had felt unusually shy, and silly because she had mistaken him, the night before, for that awful Percy. He had been very kind to her. He said how pleased he was that she had come to live with them and that he wanted to be her friend. If she had any worries at all she was to tell him, or Patience, about them, so that was good to know. He said, too, that she should call him Luke; it didn’t matter about the uncle bit, and he didn’t really like being called Rector or Reverend. She did not feel frightened any more, nor worried either, except for that niggling little anxiety about her mum which would not go away.

  They had had a lovely breakfast of bacon and eggs, and warm toast spread with real butter, not marg like they had at home. And then, a little later, Patience had said they were going to church, so Maisie had put on her navy gaberdine mack, the only coat she possessed, and her pixie hood. Aunty Patience had said she would be too hot in church in a pixie hood, so she had given her a red beret to wear, setting it at a jaunty angle on top of Maisie’s dark hair. It was a little bit too big, but it was a lovely bright colour and Maisie felt very pleased and proud as she sat next to her new aunty.

  She knew she looked rather shabby, though, at the side of Patience, but Maisie was quite used to that. Patience was wearing a green costume with a white silky blouse underneath, and a little white straw hat with a green ribbon round it. Maisie thought she looked lovely.

  She turned at the sound of footsteps coming down the centre aisle, and she nudged Patience as she saw Miss Thomson, Audrey and Daisy, the maid, sitting down in the opposite pew. ‘There’s Audrey,’ she whispered. ‘Can I go and say hello to her?’

  ‘Wait until afterwards, dear,’ said Patience, ‘when the service is finished. Then perhaps you can have a few words with your friend.’

  Maisie watched as the three of them bowed their heads, saying a little prayer. It looked as though Audrey was quite used to going to church as she seemed to know just what to do. Then Miss Thomson settled herself into her pew with her black gloved hands folded neatly in her lap. Maisie leaned forwards and flapped her hand to attract Audrey’s attention; and Audrey, catching sight of her friend, gave a gasp of pleasure and waved her hand in return. Only to receive a look of displeasure and a slight dig of rebuke from Miss Thomson. The woman turned and looked disapprovingly at Maisie; but the maid, Daisy, sitting at the end of the pew nearest to the aisle, turned her head slightly and grinned, then she gave a broad wink. Maisie didn’t dare to wink or even grin back, not with that dreadful Miss Thomson watching, but she decided that she liked Daisy very much. Audrey would be OK, she was sure, if that nice plumpish young woman with the beaming smile had anything to do with it.

  The organ, somewhere up high above the choir stalls, had been playing quietly; then, suddenly, it began to play more loudly, and a door opened at the front of the church. First of all a man came out, holding a sort of long pole in his hand, and following behind him came Luke, and then a choir of men and women, boys and – Maisie was surprised to see – a few girls, some no older or bigger than herself. The men and the boys were wearing white gowns over their ordinary clothes, and the ladies and girls wore blue cloaks and had little square caps on their heads. They all processed round the church, to the back and then down the centre aisle, passing near to Patience and Maisie.

  They took their places in the choir stalls, the children at the front and the men and women at the back, and Luke, in his black gown, went up the steps into the pulpit. The hymn they were singing was ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’. Maisie remembered it from her Sunday School days, and they sometimes sang it at day school as well, in morning assemblies. It was one she enjoyed singing because it had such a rousing tune that made you feel you wanted to march along in time to it. She didn’t understand all the words though, and it said the word ‘hell’ twice, which sounded rather dreadful, she thought, to sing in church. It was a word that Sid was always using, amongst other words which were even more awful.

  Maisie had a clear ringing voice and she kept in tune perfectly. Patience looked at her fondly and smiled, and Maisie smiled back feeling, suddenly, very happy. She saw Luke glancing at her, too, from his place in the pulpit high above their heads, a quirky little grin playing round his lips. Shyly, she smiled back at him, then quickly lowered her eyes again to her hymn book.

  When the hymn came to an end Luke said ‘Let us pray’, and they all sat down again, bowing their heads. Patience knelt on a flat cushion which was underneath the pew, so Maisie did the same. There was quite a lot of standing up and sitting down, so Maisie followed Patience and did exactly what she was doing, following the words of the service carefully in her red prayer book.

  ‘I am sure you will all be pleased to hear that my sermon will be very short this morning,’ said Luke, when the congregation had settled down and everyone was looking at him expectantly. ‘Only five minutes,’ he added with a grin, and a polite little ripple of laughter ran round the church.

  ‘But we all know the reason for this,’ he continued, his face taking on a much more sober expression. ‘I realise that all of you, as well as my wife and I, want to be home by eleven o’ clock to hear what our Prime Minister has to say to us. We can all guess, alas, what that will be. My dear friends…we stand on the brink of what may turn out to be a long and bitter struggle, but we must believe, in the end, that right will prevail…’

  He talked about trusting God, and saying your prayers, and helping one another…and Maisie kept her eyes on his face all the while, thinking how stupid she had been to mistake him for Percy. Luke was handsome. He had fairish wavy hair, turning a little bit grey at the sides, shining bluey-grey eyes that looked so kind and understanding, and a sort of noble face – like pictures she had seen of kings and lords in history books – with a rather longish nose and a wide mouth. Kings usually looked solemn though, but Luke smiled a lot, and his eyes smiled too, as well as his mouth.

  Today, though, was a serious sort of day and Luke, the rector, was suitably grave and dignified. They sang another hymn, ‘O God Our Help in Ages Past’, and when the choir had processed round the church again it was time to leave. Luke stood at the door, shaking hands with everyone. Not with his wife, though; that would have been silly, Maisie thought, but she noticed that he had a special extra loving smile for Patience.

  Maisie pulled at her hand. ‘Aunty Patience, can I go and talk to A
udrey now, please? Look – they’re going.’ Miss Thomson, Audrey and Daisy were already walking briskly down the path, with Audrey casting appealing backward glances at her friend.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ replied Patience. ‘Come along dear, quickly. We’ll both go and have a word with them. Miss Thomson…’ she shouted, but not too loudly, quickening her footsteps to catch up with the trio. ‘Could you spare a minute, please? Maisie wants to say hello to Audrey.’

  Miss Thomson turned sharply, casting a slightly disapproving look at Maisie before answering. ‘Yes, I suppose so. It will only have a to be a minute, though. We have left a joint of beef in the oven, and Daisy still has the potatoes and vegetables to see to. Go along then, Audrey.’ She gave her a little nudge. ‘Go and say hello to your…er…friend.’

  ‘Hello…’ said both girls together, feeling a little ill at ease. They grinned unsurely at each other.

  ‘Are you OK then, with…her?’ whispered Maisie, gesturing slightly with her thumb.

  ‘Yes, I’m OK; honest, I am,’ Audrey whispered back. Maisie was relieved to see that she was not crying and she looked perfectly normal. ‘Daisy’s looking after me. She’s real nice…’

  And that was all there was time for because already Miss Thomson was fussing and fidgeting with her gloves and bag. ‘Come along now, Audrey, and you, Daisy…’

  ‘There is Sunday School as usual this afternoon, Miss Thomson,’ Patience said, before they disappeared down the path. ‘Perhaps you would like to send Audrey along? Maisie will be going with me.’

  ‘Of course,’ said the woman with a haughty look at the rector’s wife. She smiled condescendingly. ‘There was no need to remind me. I should hope I know my duty.’