by Joan Jonker
When the car was parked, George and Andrew walked back down the side of the house to the front door. They had to pass the kitchen, and the sounds that reached them told of the hectic activity inside. ‘Your mother will be busy ordering the staff to do this that and the other,’ George said. ‘And she only makes things worse. If she would just sit back and let them get on with what they do best, life would be much easier for all concerned.’
‘I can understand Mother, though,’ Andrew said. ‘She wants to see with her own eyes that everything is going to plan. She’s a perfectionist.’
George chortled as he climbed the high step into the vestibule, which boasted beautiful stained glass windows. ‘I’m afraid she will be a very angry perfectionist, my boy, for I promised faithfully that we would be home before five o’clock. It is now ten minutes to six. So batten down the hatches, we could be in for a rough ride.’
Andrew shook his head. ‘Don’t forget it’s my birthday, and everyone has to be nice to a person on their birthday.’
George winked at his son before opening the door to the large, magnificent square hall. The wide curved staircase caught the eye first, the stairs being covered in the same thick maroon carpet as the floor. Paintings lined the walls, a huge antlered mahogany coat stand had pride of place by the door, and a crystal chandelier hung over the highly polished round table which stood in the centre.
One of the four doors leading off the hall opened as George was removing his gloves, and his wife, Harriet, walked in. Her nostrils flaring and her hands clasped across her stomach, she faced her husband. ‘I hope you have a reasonable excuse for being late, George, and breaking your promise?’
Andrew quickly moved forward. After all, she couldn’t be angry with him on his birthday. ‘It’s all my fault, Mother. Don’t blame Father for us being late.’ He took hold of her hands and gently squeezed them. ‘This has been the most wonderful day of my life, Mother; please don’t spoil it. Firstly, you are working very hard to give me what I know will be a most lavish party, that will have our friends green with envy. And while I was looking forward to this evening, unaware of what Father had in store for me, he presents me with a birthday gift I would never have expected in my wildest dreams.’
Harriet looked past him to where her husband was standing. ‘Have you been keeping a secret from me, George? You know I dislike secrets. Had I known you were buying a present for Andrew, I would have been delighted to help you choose a suitable one.’
‘I didn’t buy Andrew a present, my love, I gave him something far more important. But as it’s our son’s birthday, I’ll let him tell you himself.’
‘Look at me, Mother.’ Andrew put a finger under her chin and turned her to face him. ‘You are the first person to have the privilege of meeting the junior partner of Wilkie-Brook’s.’
Harriet turned to her husband, her mouth open to tell him she should have been informed before the deed was done. But the words died on her lips as the significance of what she’d heard sunk in. How much nicer it would be to introduce her son as junior partner with the firm, rather than say he worked for his father. ‘That is very generous of you, my darling, and I’m sure the dear boy appreciates his new status.’ She cupped her son’s face in her two hands and kissed him on each cheek. ‘Well done, dearest. I really am very happy for you.’
George rounded the table and put a hand on Andrew’s arm. ‘We are cutting things rather fine, my boy. Our guests will be arriving in an hour, and we have to bathe and change.’
His wife agreed. ‘You must be here to welcome your guests, my love; it would be bad manners if you were not. So make haste, the pair of you.’
‘Is Charlotte not around?’ Andrew asked. ‘I haven’t seen her for my birthday kiss.’
‘There’ll be plenty of time later,’ Harriet said, waving her hand towards the stairs. ‘Be assured she hasn’t forgotten you. She is very excited, and will be wearing a beautiful new dress in your honour.’ Once again she waved her hand. ‘Make haste, now; I don’t want to make excuses to our guests for your absence.’
‘Have faith, Mother. I shall be at the door to greet them.’ With that, Andrew took the wide stairs two at a time.
George was ready before his wife, and he wandered downstairs and headed for the kitchen. To say it was busy would be an understatement, for the staff were running to put the final touches to dishes that not only looked delicious, but would bring sighs of pleasure from the owners of appreciative palates.
The housekeeper, Frances, was a bonny woman, with a well-rounded body, rosy red cheeks, mousy hair and an ever-present smile. She ran the house and staff like clockwork, and her eyes missed nothing. She had worked for the Wilkie-Brooks for ten years, and had her own bedroom and sitting room.
Jane the cook came in at ten in the mornings and worked until eight o’clock, except on Sunday which was her day off. She had a wonderful happy personality, and her cooking had to be tasted to be believed. She was a wizard in the kitchen, and even the housekeeper wouldn’t dare to interfere or criticize. They were good mates, and Jane would always stay late to help Frances when there was anything special happening, like a birthday party.
Then there was fifteen-year-old Rosie, a young housemaid. She worked from eight until five, and lived with her parents and younger brother. She’d only been employed there for nine months, and was still in awe of the house and its occupants.
There was also a daily cleaner, Kate, who tackled all the heavy work six days a week. She was seventeen years old, from a poor family who relied on her wages. She was very pretty, being slim with auburn hair and hazel eyes, and her ever-ready smile made her a favourite with all the staff and family members. The only exception was the mistress, who didn’t acknowledge the two young people on her staff.
‘I haven’t come to nose, Frances,’ George said, ‘just to see if you require anything, or need a helping hand? Not that I’d be allowed to roll my sleeves up and get stuck in, but it’s just a friendly enquiry. If the delicious smells are anything to go by, our guests are in for a gastronomical delight.’
‘All of the tables have been set and decorated, Mr George. As you can see, Jane has everything under control. As soon as the guests are seated, the food will be ready to serve.’
‘I hope you and Jane, and the girls, set a table for yourselves out here. Andrew would be very happy if you celebrated his birthday too. He’ll be out to see you later, when you are less busy, to thank you.’ George was about to turn away when he had a thought. ‘Oh, Frances, I know you don’t need me to tell you, but you won’t forget to share the food that isn’t eaten with the rest of the staff, will you? I know you must all have worked very hard, as you always do, and I would like to think you shared a little of the pleasure my son will be having, thanks to you, on his birthday. So try to have a little respite, with a few goodies and a bottle of sherry.’
‘Thank you, Mr George. We will toast Mr Andrew because we are all fond of him. And I’ll not forget to see that Kate and Rosie take some food home to their families.’
George gazed round the kitchen. ‘Where are the young ones?’
‘They’re in the laundry room, changing into their uniforms. And they’re loving every minute, Mr George. It’s a wonder you can’t hear them giggling. They’re thrilled because they’re helping with waiting on the tables, and they’re wearing the black dresses with the lacy aprons and headdress to match. I heard Rosie saying she felt “proper posh” in uniform.’
‘I bet they’ll look very pretty. But I have to go now, Frances, for I’ve heard two cars arriving. Miss Harriet doesn’t like it when I’m not on hand to welcome the guests.’ He patted her arm. ‘You and the staff have my appreciation for the extra work you’re being asked to do. I’m sure Andrew will be coming himself to thank you.’
Andrew would have liked to relax longer in the bath and once again go over the events of the day. But knowing what a stickler his mother was on etiquette, he didn’t linger. There were four bedrooms on the fi
rst floor – one was used for visitors – and each bedroom had its own bathroom and dressing room. When Andrew stepped out on the large square landing, it was to find his father coming out of his bedroom, struggling to fasten his cufflinks.
‘Confounded things,’ he growled. ‘They refuse to fasten.’
‘Here, let me.’ Andrew had them fastened in a few seconds. ‘They always seem to know when you’re in a hurry, and then they become obstinate. Still, no panic. We should be down before our guests start arriving and remain in Mother’s good books.’
‘Oh, I’ve been down,’ George told him. ‘I paid a visit to the kitchen to have a word with Frances, and lo and behold, your mother cornered me. She spotted I wasn’t wearing her favourite cufflinks and insisted I change them. No one else would have noticed the blasted things, or been in the least interested whether I was wearing cufflinks or not. Anyway, it’s always best to give in right away. Saves any argument and much easier than facing a stern face all night.’
They skipped side by side down the wide staircase, and reached the bottom just as the young maid, Rosie, opened the door to the Barford family: Robert, his wife Gweneth, and their daughter Annabel. Robert handed his coat and scarf to the young maid, who was overawed by the occasion, and walked towards George with hand outstretched, grinning broadly. ‘Nice to see you, George.’
Andrew intended to greet Gweneth first, but was forestalled by Annabel who, after handing the maid her coat, ran towards him with outstretched arms. ‘Andrew, darling, happy birthday.’ He managed to catch her arms before they reached his neck, and he kept a tight grip on them. ‘How pretty you look, Annabel! Stand back and let me see you properly.’
Like a child, Annabel did a twirl, then a curtsy, before saying, ‘I’m glad you like my dress, Andrew. I wanted to look nice for you.’
Her mother was irritated that her daughter was acting in an unseemly manner. ‘Annabel, do give Andrew and me a chance to say hello.’
It was George who saved the situation and the Barfords’ embarrassment. ‘When you have made Gweneth welcome, my boy, there are other guests in the drawing room waiting for you.’
Robert Barford tried to mask his discomfort. ‘We’re not the first, then, George?’
‘No, old boy, the Parker-Browns are here, the Hedleys, and the Simpsons. The Braithwaits rang to say they’d be a little late. We’d better make our way to the drawing room. They’ll be wondering what’s keeping Andrew.’
Gweneth took her daughter’s arm. ‘Come, Annabel, and please behave yourself.’
The girl looked downcast and Andrew took pity on her. ‘I’ll take Annabel through, Gweneth. She can take my arm.’
‘Can I sit next to you, Andrew?’ Annabel’s wide eyes looked up at him appealingly.
‘I’m afraid not, my dear. You see, I’ll be sitting between my parents, and Charlotte will be next but one. I’m sure you’ll find someone to talk to, though, you look so pretty.’
Walking behind them, George mentally gave his son full marks for being straight, and also being kind and not making a fuss, which would embarrass Robert and Gweneth. But really it was time they took their daughter in hand and treated her like a grown-up. A grimace came to George’s face when he told himself he was a fine one to talk. He spoilt his own daughter, who was the same age as Annabel, by giving her everything her heart desired, indulging her every whim. A sigh left his lips. This wasn’t the time to worry about Charlotte, not on his son’s birthday. Tomorrow, perhaps?
When Andrew entered the drawing room the talking and laughter ceased, while all the guests moved to shake his hand and congratulate him. To his delight, his sister, Charlotte, was the first to reach him. She was brimming over with happiness for him, and as she hugged him tight she whispered, ‘My wonderful brother, you look so handsome and I’m proud of you.’ Then in a voice everyone could hear, she said, ‘I often wish you weren’t my brother, for then I could marry you.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that, my darling sister. I really don’t think I could afford to keep you in the manner to which you are accustomed.’
Charlotte, beautiful to look at, and dressed like a dream, giggled. ‘We could live in a garret, and I could go out in the streets selling oranges.’ She put a hand to her heart and struck up a dramatic pose. ‘We might be poor, and starving, but we’d have each other.’
The only person not amused was Harriet. ‘Really, Charlotte, that is most unbecoming in a young lady.’
George’s guffaw sounded over the laughter. ‘You know I felt quite optimistic for a few seconds. Had Andrew not been your brother, Charlotte, I would have gladly given him a princely sum to take you off my hands.’
Charles, the twenty-year-old son of Jeanette and Toby Hedley, piped up. ‘Oh, I say, Mr George, that is a very handsome offer. I can assure you that with a princely sum at my disposal, I could take jolly good care of Charlotte. If she would have me, of course.’
Her eyes alive with laughter, Charlotte told him, ‘You have a taste for very expensive cars, Charles, and I fear I would come second to an automobile.’
‘That’s typical of a woman, that is,’ Charles said, his round chubby face trying not to smile. ‘A minute ago you were prepared to walk the streets selling oranges for Andrew. Now you’re turning your back on rides in the country in a red open-top sports car. It shows how fickle the female sex are.’
The rest of the invited guests arrived then, and the room became noisy with greetings, chatter and laughter. And as glasses were refilled with whisky, claret, port and white wine, the level of chattering and tinkling of glasses increased.
The quietest person was Harriet, who loved parties but wasn’t a party person. Apart from the odd remark, she was quite happy to sit back, listen, and congratulate herself on being an excellent hostess. The noisiest person was her son, Andrew, which was unusual, for he wasn’t a party animal by nature. But today had been a wonderful day and his head was in the clouds. He’d left it to his father to tell their friends about his promotion, for he was afraid if he did it himself it would sound like boasting.
The happiest person was Charlotte, which wasn’t unusual for she always shone in company. Tonight she was happy for her brother, and very proud of him.
Dressed in a neat black dress, with her hair combed back into a bun at the back of her neck, Frances entered the drawing room. She moved quietly round the revellers to where her mistress sat talking to Jessica Parker-Brown. After coughing discreetly, she said, ‘Dinner is ready to be served, Miss Harriet. Shall I announce it?’
‘Please do, Frances. And suggest Mr Andrew leads his guests through to the dining room.’ Harriet knew it was an unnecessary question, but she asked it out of habit. ‘Is everything going to plan?’
The housekeeper nodded. ‘Everything you requested, Miss Harriet. I’m sure the guests will be more than satisfied.’
Jessica leaned forward to touch Frances on her arm. ‘I’m sure we will be green with envy, Frances. There is not a kitchen in the city that can compare with yours. A dinner at the Wilkie-Brooks’ is a great honour. Much looked forward to and talked about for weeks afterwards.’
‘I’ll pass your words on to the staff, Mrs Parker-Brown. I’m sure they will be pleased.’ Frances inclined her head slightly. ‘And now to find Mr Andrew.’
Andrew was holding the floor with the male guests. His face was flushed, and even though he was aware he was talking too much, he couldn’t stop. His excitement over the events of the day was still high, and the wine was fuelling his tongue. Frances came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Your mother asked me to tell you dinner is ready to be served, Mr Andrew. She asked if you would lead your guests through?’
Looking bashful, Andrew ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’m a little tipsy, Frances, but have no fear, I am quite steady on my feet and capable of walking upright.’ Once again he ran a hand through his hair. ‘I would like Charlotte to take my arm. Where is my lovely sister?’
‘I’m right behind you
, my darling brother.’ Charlotte came round to his side. ‘I’ve been keeping an eye on you. Now, give me your arm and I’ll be honoured and delighted to have you escort me. Please don’t fall, though, for I should hate it if my new dress was torn. I had it made specially for your birthday, but was rather hoping I would be allowed to wear it on more than one occasion.’
Andrew chuckled. ‘You have my promise I will not even stumble. The odd hiccup can’t be avoided, however, for that is out of my control.’
George had been watching his son with some amusement, and was pleased to see brother and sister acting the goat and enjoying each other’s company. It brought a lump to his throat, and he mentally called himself a sentimental fool. It would be some time before Andrew allowed himself to relax like this again. He’d become very serious of late, even bringing work home with him. He could do with a little of his sister’s love of life, while Charlotte would ease her father’s worries if, like her brother, she opened her eyes to reality, and the world around her.
Moving away from the group, George approached his wife and took her arm. ‘Allow me to escort you, my darling. I can see Michael coming to claim Jessica, so we four sober and responsible citizens can go in together.’
Harriet linked her husband’s arm. ‘Jessica has been telling me about their baby, George. It seems like only yesterday he was born, but he is now six months old.’
‘It’s seeing the children grow that makes us feel old. Days pass so quickly, it’s frightening.’
Michael Parker-Brown joined them, and put his arm round his wife’s slim waist. ‘What is frightening, George? Business is booming, is it not?’ He and his wife were a handsome couple, and very well off. ‘You are an astute business man, old boy, with a son who is going to be equally astute.’
His wife patted his cheek. ‘My darling, no one was talking about business. Our baby was the topic of conversation.’
‘Ah, yes. Have you asked them yet?’
‘Not yet, darling. I wanted you to be here when I do.’ Jessica smiled at George and Harriet. ‘We are arranging to have the baby christened in the very near future, and we would like to ask if you would stand as godparents? We would consider it an honour if you would.’
