by Betty Neels
Sister was in her office writing the report.
‘May I see Miss Cowper for a few moments? I’ve not had a minute to talk to her.’
‘Henrietta? But she’s already gone, sir. Discharged not an hour ago. She went to collect her pay, I suppose. Said she’d take a taxi and there would be someone waiting for her at home.’
He preserved an admirable calm. ‘A pity. Never mind; it’s my fault for not making the time to come sooner.’
‘It was all right—letting her go? I have warned the office. Actually, it was providential, for I need her bed desperately.’
‘Quite all right, Sister.’ He bade her a courteous good evening and went away without apparent haste.
She would have gone to Mrs Gregg’s, he reflected as he got into his car. He only hoped that she was still there.
She was—standing on the doorstep, listening to Mrs Gregg’s voice, which was loud and belligerent because she felt guilty. He cut into her diatribe without apology. ‘Henrietta, thank heaven you’re still here. I never meant this to happen...’
She turned to look at him. ‘What did you mean to happen?’ she asked. Her voice was as stony as her look. ‘Someone could have told me.’
‘Let me explain.’
‘There is no need. Besides, how does one explain how I have come to get the sack without being told, to have my—my home rented to someone else the moment I turn my back, and to lose my furniture and my cats?’
She had spoken quietly, but he could see that she was on the verge of tears. Mrs Gregg raised her voice once more and he withered her with a look, took Henrietta by the arm and popped her into the car before she could protest.
‘How dare you?’ said Henrietta. ‘Stop the car at once; I wish to get out.’
‘Not here, you won’t. You’ll sit there while I explain.’
‘And apologise. I hope you realise that—that...’ She faltered to a halt.
‘Yes, of course. I realise everything.’ He heard a watery sniff. ‘Have a good cry while I tell you what has happened. I make no excuses; I’ve been busy, but somehow I should have found the time to come and see you. I’m sorry. There’s a great deal I have to say; I suggest we go somewhere and have a meal while I explain.’ He gave her a quick, sidelong glance. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.’
Henrietta blew her nose. ‘So am I, but I have to find somewhere—’
‘That’s arranged. I’ll tell you about it, only don’t keep interrupting.’
He started the car, leaving Mrs Gregg still talking although there was no one there to hear her. ‘My case,’ said Henrietta.
‘I’ll collect it tomorrow; we can find things for you for the night.’
She opened her mouth to speak at that, but closed it again. He had said that he would explain.
He drove a short distance and presently stopped in a busy shopping street, parked the car by a meter and opened her door. ‘I’m short of time, but we can get a meal here while I talk.’
The café-restaurant was small and only half-full. He asked her what she would like, and when she hesitated offered to order for her. When the waitress had gone he observed, ‘I’ll be as brief as possible; save your questions until I have finished, will you?’
He guessed what she wanted to hear first. ‘Dickens and Ollie are with my housekeeper, happy and safe. No, don’t say anything. I tried to get Mrs Carter to take you on full-time but I was unsuccessful. I didn’t know that no one had told you that they had given you the sack. Believe me, if I had known that I would have let you know somehow. I went to see Mrs Gregg and found that she had already let your room and put your furniture in her basement.’
He paused while a large pot of tea was put before her. It looked heaven sent, but she didn’t take her eyes off his face.
‘If you would consider it, there is a job waiting for you. Friends of mine who live south of Thaxted—know it?—need someone to work for them. A girl Friday is, I believe the correct term. Their house is in the country and it is open to the public five days a week. I presume you will be a jack of all trades, but they are very kind people and the country around is delightful.
‘You may have your cats with you, but you will share one of the lodges with someone called Mrs Pettifer. The pay is small, but you’ll be fed and housed.’
Henrietta poured their tea and someone put a plate loaded with bacon and egg, baked beans and crisp fried bread before her.
‘Well,’ said Henrietta, and took a sip of tea. ‘I thought I didn’t like you at all, that you said things you hadn’t meant just to be rid of me, but it’s not like that at all. I have been thinking awful things about you, and all the time you’ve been kind and helpful and there was no need—you don’t even know me... I’m very grateful.’
He said impatiently, ‘Never mind all that. Eat your supper; I can spare rather less than an hour. My secretary has found somewhere you can spend the next two days. For heaven’s sake, though, don’t go tearing around on some senseless idea or other. I will fetch you in two days’ time, in the evening, so be ready to come with me. You’re going on a week’s trial, but I see no reason why you shouldn’t stay there for as long as it suits you. Have you any decent clothes?’
Henrietta loaded her fork daintily with baked beans and popped them into her mouth. When it was empty she spoke.
‘I know you don’t mean to be rude,’ she told him kindly, ‘but if you talk to your patients like that I’m surprised that you have any! No, I have no decent clothes. I am wearing my best now. Everything else is in my case at Mrs Gregg’s.’
He was glad to see that she had recovered her spirit, but he didn’t say so. ‘You had better go shopping for essentials tomorrow. How much money have you?’
‘Wait while I count it,’ she begged him, and did so. ‘Forty-five and forty-five is ninety, and there’s four pounds sixty pence and a few coppers in my purse. That’s ninety-four pounds and sixty pence—two weeks’ wages, and what was left over from the week before.’ She added sharply, ‘What happened to my jamjar? There was a week’s wages from the office block in it, and my savings...’
‘How much were you paid for this cleaning job?’
‘Twenty-five pounds a week. I’ll have to go back to Mrs Gregg and ask her about it. I—I can’t afford to lose it.’
Mr Ross-Pitt concealed his feelings admirably. ‘No, no, of course not. I’ll get it when I go for your case tomorrow. Eat your supper, Henrietta, and listen to me. I think you could afford to spend around seventy pounds on clothes. The rest you can save for that rainy day and, since there’s nothing to spend your money on where you are going, you will be able to add to it.
‘I will get the money from Mrs Gregg, and supposing I suggest that she sells the furniture? You won’t need it, at least for the time being, and if nothing is done about it she will dispose of it without telling you.’
‘Will she? But I might want it again.’
He suppressed a shudder. ‘I doubt if it will stand up to being stored in a basement. Be brave, Henrietta; burn your boats.’
She smiled then—she had a lovely smile, lighting up her whole face. ‘Yes, all right, I will. You’re sure that it is all right to spend all that money?’
Mr Ross-Pitt, who spent twice that amount on taking any one of the women of his acquaintance out to dinner, assured her that it was.
She offered him more tea, and although he didn’t want it he passed his cup because he guessed that she wanted another cup herself. It was a powerful brew, richly brown, loaded with tannin. He swallowed it with apparent pleasure and presently suggested that they should go.
The house he took her to was near the hospital, on a corner of a street which, while having seen better days, was by no means as shabby as those surrounding it. Its owner, Miss Lodge, was elderly, austere and determined to keep the standa
rds by which she had lived in her youth.
She accepted only hand-picked lodgers, insisted on being paid on time, and that there should be no what she called ‘hanky-panky’, but she fed them well, kept their rooms spotless, and hidden beneath her high-necked blouse was a heart of gold.
She received Henrietta briskly, shook Mr Ross-Pitt’s hand, told him equally briskly that there was no need for him to wait and then stood aside while he bade Henrietta goodnight. ‘You will remember all that I’ve told you,’ he reminded her. ‘I shall be unable to see you before I come to fetch you, so be sure and get everything that you are likely to need.’
‘Dickens and Ollie? Will you bring them with you?’
‘They’re at my home—I live near Lady Hensen, your future employer. We’ll collect them on our way.’
She offered a hand in its shabby glove. ‘You are very kind, and thank you for my supper.’
He looked down at her. Her eyes were beautiful, he decided. ‘A pleasure,’ he told her in the kind of impersonal voice she wasn’t sure that she liked. It made her feel as though she were his patient. Which was exactly what he had hoped.
Miss Lodge led the way upstairs. ‘Your room is small, but as you are here for such a short time I thought it would be sufficient for you. The bathroom is on the same floor. Kindly do not spend more than twenty minutes when using it; there are six other boarders on this floor. I gather that you have had a meal, but if you wish for a cup of tea you are welcome to come to the kitchen and make yourself one.
‘Breakfast is at eight o’clock—several of my boarders have an early meal, necessary so that they may get to their work on time. I don’t provide lunch or afternoon tea, but there is high tea at six o’clock. You are welcome to sit in the sitting room during the day.’
Henrietta said thank you and added that she would have to do some shopping and would probably be away for most of the day. Miss Lodge nodded graciously. ‘So I understand. Doubtless you will need to fit yourself out for your new job.’ And at Henrietta’s enquiring look she added, ‘I was informed of your circumstances, Miss Cowper.’
She had opened a door to disclose a small room, rather crowded with furniture, but it was clean and cheerful and the bed looked comfortable.
‘I’ll leave you to come down for tea if you wish. You will find everything you need for a night or two in the top drawer of the dressing table.’
‘Thank you, Miss Lodge; how very kind and thoughtful of you.’
‘I have done what has been requested of me,’ said Miss Lodge austerely, and went away.
Henrietta waited a few minutes before opening the door and going in search of the bathroom—a chilly apartment which made no attempt to attract, but where the water seemed hot and the bath was spotless. She thought it unlikely that anyone would dare to leave it otherwise than pristine.
There was no one in the kitchen when she found her way there, but there was a teapot and a tin of teabags on the table, and mugs and a milk jug. She made her tea and then went back upstairs, intent on a bath.
The drawer had yielded a plain cotton nightie, a brush and comb, soap, towel and face flannel. At least she would be clean, and in the morning she would get face cream and powder and a lipstick. She would have to make a list... First, though, she would bath.
The water was hot; she could have stayed for a long time, going slowly lobster-pink, her mind nicely blank, but Miss Lodge’s stern words about the period allowed in the bathroom sent her back to her bed with minutes to spare.
She was sleepy now, but the list had to be made. Quite short, for there wasn’t much money. She whittled it down to the absolute necessities before she at last curled up and slept.
* * *
MISS LODGE PRESIDED at the breakfast table in the morning, keeping a stern eye on her lodgers. There were four of them present besides Henrietta—two young women and two older men. None of them spoke much—polite good mornings, then requests to pass the butter or marmalade, and an equally polite ‘excuse me’ as they left the table.
Henrietta ate her porridge, the boiled egg by her plate and a slice of bread and butter, drank the tea that Miss Lodge poured for her and, since there was no one left by then, offered to help clear the table.
Miss Lodge looked surprised. ‘No, thank you.’ She sounded friendly. ‘I think that you should go and do your shopping. Ring the doorbell twice when you return. You may make yourself some tea if you wish when you come in.’
Henrietta thanked her. She felt delightfully full with her wholesome breakfast; it was amazing what a good meal did for one. The future looked hopeful, and the thought of seeing Dickens and Ollie again cheered her.
She put on her coat, tied a scarf over her hair, since she had no hat, and took herself off to spend her seventy pounds. It would have been nice to spend it in the big stores in Oxford Street, but there such a small sum would have melted away like snow. Instead she found her way to the local market, where there were stalls of jackets and anoraks, woollies and cheap skirts.
She didn’t hurry over her choice but priced everything carefully before first buying a pair of sensible lace-up shoes—not leather, of course, but they looked as though they were. That seen to, she turned her attention once more to suitable clothes for her new job.
The skirt she was wearing was one of Oxfam’s best, but it had seen better days; she found a grey and black checked skirt, teamed it with a grey sweater and one patterned with several shades of blue and green, and then went in search of a charity shop.
She found a quilted jacket there, so cheap that she was able to spend the last few pounds on sensible undies and two nighties, totally lacking in glamour but promising warmth; winter was by no means over yet.
She had coffee and a sandwich after that, pleased with her purchases and lingering over her small meal in the overheated little café. And then, since she had no more money to spend, she made her way back to Miss Lodge’s house, where she was admitted, told to wipe her feet before she crossed the hall and told to make herself a pot of tea if she wanted it. ‘And there’s bread and butter if you’re hungry,’ said Miss Lodge severely.
The tea was good, hot and strong, and a slice of bread and butter was welcome. These disposed of, Henrietta went to her room and examined her shopping, stifling a wish that she could have bought delicate silk undies and fashionable clothes if only she had had the money. What she had bought, she told herself stoutly, was exactly right for the job she was going to, and once she had settled in there and she felt sure of staying she would save up and gradually collect the sort of clothes she longed for.
She tried everything on, craning her neck to see as much as possible of herself in the small looking-glass. Really, the jacket fitted very well; no one would know that it had come from Oxfam...
* * *
MR ROSS-PITT, coming to fetch her the following day, recognised the coat unerringly as a garment from a charity shop, but he was a kind man. He told her that she looked very nice, had a short session with Miss Lodge, and then took Henrietta and her case and went out to the car.
It was dark and chilly and the car was delightfully warm, smelling faintly of good leather. He got in beside her, observing, ‘I saw Mrs Gregg—she offered to buy your furniture for twenty pounds, and I accepted on your behalf. I hope I did right?’ When she nodded he added, ‘She hopes that you will be very happy. I have your jar in the boot—she counted it with me. Thirty-one pounds, sixty-four pence.’
Henrietta did some sums in her head. ‘So I’ve got more than seventy-six pounds.’ She sounded quite breathless with relief.
‘Indeed you have,’ he agreed gravely, ‘and you will be paid at the end of each week. Have you all that you need? We can stop if you want to buy anything else.’
‘No—I think I’ve enough of everything to start with, thank you.’
‘Then shall we go?’
‘Yes, please. I hope I’m not spoiling your evening.’
‘Not at all. I’m going home, and it is no trouble to drop you and the cats off.’ He heard her satisfied sigh and hoped that he would be forgiven for the fib about Mrs Gregg’s offer to buy the furniture.
‘I’ve thrown it out,’ she declared when he’d asked her about it. ‘A load of old rubbish—got the men ter cart it away.’
If he hadn’t been insistent, she would have denied having the jampot... Henrietta need never know that he had added the twenty pounds from his own pocket—a trifling sum, but it was obvious from his quick, all-seeing glance that she needed every penny she could get.
He set himself to put her at her ease as he drove, and she answered his mild observations politely, but he could sense that she was nervous. He began to tell her something of the Hensens’ home, describing it and the people who lived there, telling her amusing stories of the visitors who came to look around. ‘I dare say that when you’ve got used to things you will be asked to act as guide sometimes. You like old buildings?’
‘Yes, I do, although I don’t know much about them. Churches and museums, of course, but you see I’ve never met anyone who owned a large house.’
‘They are rather a responsibility; the upkeep is never-ending.’
He had left the main road by now and was driving along a narrow country lane, and presently the village came in sight. He drove along its main street, through his gates and stopped at his front door. Henrietta peered out.
‘Is this it? It looks lovely—like something out of a fairy story.’
He had opened her door, and helped her out. ‘This is my home; come in and collect Dickens and Ollie.’
‘You live here?’
‘With Mrs Patch, my housekeeper, and Watson.’
Watson came tearing through the open door to greet them.
