by Rosie Clarke
‘Maybe he did and maybe he didn’t,’ Nell Hale had said with a shrug. ‘But if one of his moods was on him…’
Jessie had found that hard to believe. Surely no one would want to die if they could avoid it? If her father hadn’t moved to avoid the heavy bale, he must have been shocked, like a rabbit caught in the light from a poacher’s torch, turned to stone by fear. Or maybe it had just been too quick for him to realise what was happening.
And maybe she was imagining things about the man she had seen so briefly at the foot of the stairs. He had glanced at her for one second, and he had been annoyed to find her staring at him; that’s what the expression in his eyes meant, nothing more. She would do better to put him out of her mind and think about what she had taken on – if she got the job that was. The easy bit would be caring for the invalid Lady Kendle; looking after two children would be more difficult because it would be a new experience for her. Yet one she felt instinctively she would enjoy.
Yes, now she was getting used to the idea, she realised that she was beginning to look forward to making a change.
*
Jessie popped into Thistles bookshop to say hello to Archie. She was a little surprised to see that he had two customers, both of whom were buying books from him, which he was carefully wrapping in strong brown paper and string. She waited until they had gone, browsing amongst the books on the shelves and lying in heaps on tables. Archie had placed chairs by the tables so that people could sit down and read for a few minutes before making their choice, which she realised was a good idea now she thought about it. And she was reading a little book by Oliver Goldsmith entitled The Vicar of Wakefield when Archie came up to her.
‘Would you like to take that home?’ he asked. ‘You can read it and bring it back when you like.’
‘Can I really?’ Jessie was surprised. ‘It’s quite old, isn’t it?’
‘Probably about sixty years or so I should think, judging by the cover. It was first published in the eighteenth century, but that isn’t a first edition. I picked it up with a load of others at a house sale some months ago. You are the first person to have looked at it.’
‘You had two customers this afternoon.’
‘Yes – both regulars, collectors,’ he said and smiled. ‘They come to me for rare books and special editions. I know what they want and keep them in the back room until they come in. If I relied on passing trade I wouldn’t earn enough to feed a fly.’
‘I had wondered how you managed to keep going.’
Archie laughed, looking younger than he usually did and she thought she might have misjudged him when she’d told her aunt he was fifty; he probably wasn’t much over forty. She just hadn’t looked that close, but this seemed to be her day for taking notice. Archie had a really nice smile.
‘So did you get the job then, Jessie?’
‘I think I may have,’ she replied, her face lighting up with pleasure. ‘Mrs Carmichael says I’m just right for the job, but she has to speak to Mrs Kendle first – and she’s in Devon. I’ve got to telephone Mrs Carmichael in the morning and see if I suit.’
‘You can phone from here if you like,’ Archie offered. He had taken off his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, where they had made a tiny red mark. ‘What kind of a job is it? It doesn’t sound like nursing.’
‘It is of a sort,’ Jessie said and explained. ‘It isn’t what I’ve been doing, but it will make a change – and I can always give my notice in after a few months if I don’t like it there.’
‘Yes…’ He looked at her doubtfully. ‘It will be different in the country, Jessie. Do you think you will like it?’
‘I’m not sure. You don’t know if you don’t try – do you?’
‘No, that’s true enough. Still, as you said, you can always come back. Mrs Pottersby will miss you. I shall too…’ A slight colour came into his cheeks as he said that and she smiled at him.
‘You’re a good friend to me, Archie. I shall miss popping in here to see you, but I shan’t forget you. I could write now and then if you like?’ She wasn’t sure why she had offered such a thing but his eyes lit up immediately and she could not regret it. After all, there was no harm in writing a letter to a friend.
‘I should like that very much, if you have the time,’ he said. ‘It would be nice to hear how you’re settling in, Jessie.’
‘Well, I’d better get home and tell my aunt the news,’ she said. ‘Are you sure I can borrow the book?’
‘Of course, as long as you like. Come in and select a few more to take with you. The books on the tables are worth very little; it wouldn’t bother me however long you kept them.’
‘I like to read in bed sometimes,’ Jessie told him. ‘I might take a few with me if that is all right, Archie. If you’re sure it doesn’t matter when you get them back?’
‘Any of these on the tables,’ he repeated. ‘And don’t forget to write to me, Jessie.’
She promised she wouldn’t forget and, with the book in her hand, started towards the door, but before she could reach it the bell clanged loudly as someone came in. Jessie felt an odd tingling sensation as she saw it was the young man who had sat next to her on the tram earlier that afternoon. He frowned as he looked at her, but she wasn’t sure whether he recognised her or not, because he walked straight past and went up to the counter to Archie.
‘I’ve decided I’ll take the book,’ he said. ‘If you’ve still got it.’
‘I promised to keep it for you…’
Jessie went out, closing the door behind her. The angry young man didn’t look like the sort who read many books, but that just showed how wrong you could be, didn’t it?
She tucked her own book into her pocket, turned up her suit collar and started to run as she felt the first spots of rain begin to fall. The sky was very grey now and it felt as if it was coming colder again; she wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be a wet night.
*
‘So you think you’ve got the job then,’ Aunt Elizabeth said as Jessie came down after taking off her best costume and hanging it up to dry so that it didn’t lose its shape. ‘What was she like – this Mrs Carmichael?’
‘Very nice,’ Jessie said and went to warm her hands at the fire. She could smell the apple pie in the oven and it made her hungry. ‘Yes, I liked her. I shan’t be working with her, of course, because she takes care of the London house, and Kendlebury Hall is in Devon. She said the family had a nanny, who was a bit difficult, but not really a tartar the way some of them are, but we shall see. I don’t have to stay long if I don’t like it there.’
‘No, of course not,’ her aunt agreed. ‘They say that change broadens the mind and it will certainly be a change. I was in service for a year or two before I met Harold, employed as a kitchen help to the cook I was. I got on with her all right, but I didn’t care for the family much – not that I saw them often, but the maids used to grumble about them all the time.’
‘In what way?’ Jessie asked. She had known her aunt had worked in a kitchen, that was where she had learned to cook so well, but she’d never mentioned the family before. ‘Were they rude or demanding or what?’
‘All of that,’ Elizabeth said and frowned at the memory. ‘Expected the maids to stay up to all hours, never a please or thank you – mind you, they weren’t real gentry. Jumped up jacks, Cook called them, made a fortune out of trade. They say the gentry are much better, nicer altogether. I dare say you’ll get on all right, Jess.’
‘Yes, I expect so.’
Jessie was thoughtful as she went to bed that night, wondering if she’d made the right decision. Perhaps she ought to have waited a bit longer and written to that address in Manchester. Mrs Carmichael was pleasant but she wasn’t her employer, and the brief glimpse she’d had of Captain Kendle hadn’t been encouraging.
She took the book Archie had loaned her to bed and read for an hour or so before putting out her light. It was a while before she settled to sleep and then she began to dr
eam. She dreamed about Robbie calling to her as he lay in the mud of the trenches and she could feel his pain.
In the dream she was there with him, the guns booming, shells exploding into the damp earth and she could hear the screams of the men who lay wounded and dying. She knew she had to reach Robbie, but the mud was so thick it was squelching round her ankles, dragging her down as she tried to get to where Robbie lay. She was panting, her chest hurting as she fought her way to his side. He was face down in the mud and she took hold of his shoulders, struggling to turn him over so that she could see his face, and then suddenly he was on his back staring up at her – but it wasn’t Robbie after all.
Jessie woke with a start from the nightmare. She was hot and sweating and her heart was racing with fear as she recalled the dream, which was still so vivid in her mind. The eyes staring up at her had been those of a dead man, but it wasn’t Robbie – it was Captain Kendle.
Shivering, Jessie got out of bed and pulled on her warm dressing robe. What on earth had made her dream such a terrible thing? She’d had her usual supper of warm cocoa and a couple of biscuits, nothing that should have brought on a nightmare.
Glancing out of the curtains she saw that it was still dark outside, though there was a light on in the bakery at the end of the yard. They started work early there, but she usually slept until much later.
She wouldn’t go back to sleep if she returned to bed, not after that nightmare. She would go downstairs and make a cup of tea, she decided and gave a little shudder. Anything to get that awful picture out of her mind.
*
‘I spoke to Mrs Kendle last night,’ Mrs Carmichael said when Jessie rang later that morning. ‘She is absolutely delighted that you are interested in taking the position. She knows someone at the hospital where you worked and she is going to be ringing there today to ask about you, Jessie, but she said to consider the job yours if you left for the reasons you told me. She thinks you were quite within your rights to report that doctor. In fact she said it took courage to do what you did, miss.’
‘I was angry,’ Jessie said truthfully. ‘If I had thought about it a bit more I might not have done it. Are you sure the job is mine?’
‘They want you to start as soon as possible, Jessie.’
‘I could travel tomorrow if that’s suitable,’ Jessie said. ‘I expect there’s a train to take me as far as Torquay, isn’t there?’
‘Yes, though I think you may have to change somewhere, take the branch line, otherwise you have to come back from Torquay on a branch line. It’s only a small place and not all the mainline trains stop there - but ask at the ticket office, they’ll tell you.’
‘What do I do when I get to Kendlebury?’
‘I’ll give you a telephone number to ring from the station office. Someone will come out and fetch you if you let them know you’ve arrived. But I’ll tell them you’re coming in the morning and they will expect you.’
‘Thank you. I shall go home and pack a couple of cases.’
‘You do that, Jessie – and good luck.’
Jessie thanked her again, then turned as Archie came into his little back room as she hung up. He looked at her expectantly.
‘Everything all right?’
‘Yes, fine, thanks,’ she told him. ‘I’m going down tomorrow.’
‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘Would you like to go out for a meal this evening – to celebrate? It will be the last time I shall see you for a while.’
Jessie hesitated for a moment, but then made up her mind. It would be nice to go somewhere special for a change, and why shouldn’t she go with him?
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said. ‘I think I should like that, Archie. As you said, it may be months before I’m in town again.’
Was it imagination or did she see a shadow of pain cross his face? She wondered if it had been wise to agree after all, because she didn’t want him getting too fond of her, didn’t want to hurt him – but she couldn’t change her mind now.
*
Jessie glanced at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a dress she hadn’t worn since Robbie’s last leave and she’d done her hair in a softer style. It was the first time she’d been out with a man for ages and she was nervous. She wasn’t even sure why she’d agreed to go.
She liked Archie, of course she did, but as a friend. It wouldn’t be fair to let him think there could ever be anything else between them, but that didn’t stop them being friends.
‘You look nice, Jess,’ her aunt said as she went downstairs. ‘Going somewhere special?’
‘Archie asked me to go with him for a meal as it was the last time I would see him for a while.’
Elizabeth nodded. ‘Well, enjoy yourselves…’ She hesitated, then added, ‘Don’t hurt him, love. He’s a good bloke. I think he’s been hurt before.’
‘What do you mean? How was he hurt?’
‘It’s just a feeling.’ Elizabeth smiled. ‘I spoke out of turn. I know you wouldn’t hurt him deliberately, Jess. As long as he understands it’s just friends?’
‘Yes, of course he does,’ Jessie said but felt a little guilty. She wouldn’t want Archie to get the wrong idea.
*
Jessie brushed her long hair before going to bed. The light of her lamp picked out the hint of red and made it shine like darkly burnished copper. Her face was a little pale, her eyes wide as she thought about the evening she had just spent with Archie. He was a nice, kind man and a pleasant companion, but his sudden proposal of marriage had shocked her. She had just never thought he would really ask, though her aunt had often said she thought he was interested.
‘I know it must be a bit of a shock, Jessie,’ Archie had said, looking awkward. ‘But with you going away… I just wanted you to know how I feel. I’ve admired you for a long time, but I never thought there was a chance.’
‘I really don’t know what to say, Archie – except that I’m sorry. I don’t want to get married, not at this moment. I am not sure that I ever shall. I haven’t really got over Robbie yet.’
Archie had accepted her refusal like the gentleman he was, not making a fuss or trying to persuade her, but she’d felt awful for letting him down.
‘You will still write to me?’ he’d asked anxiously. ‘We can still be friends?’
‘Yes, of course we can,’ Jessie had said. ‘I like you very much, Archie – I just don’t want to get married.’
Jessie sighed and put down her hairbrush. It was getting late and she had to be up early in the morning.
Chapter Three
Jessie had plenty of time to think on the train the next morning. She had a packed lunch her aunt had made for her, a book to read and a magazine she’d bought at the station. She flicked through the pages, reading an article about a clinic that had opened in London earlier in the year, to give free advice and cheap contraceptives to women, especially the poor who were so often worn out by excessive childbearing, which added to their burdens of poverty and neglect.
It made her feel sad and a little angry when she read about the protests by churchmen and others, who should by rights have been all for helping those poor women. They were supposed to care, but all they ever seemed to do was preach at people rather than help them, and condemn Doctor Marie Stopes for trying to help.
She laid the newspaper aside, her thoughts reverting to what was really bothering her as she gazed out of the window at the countryside, through which they were passing at what seemed a terrific speed to someone who had only been on a train a few times in her life. The shock of Archie asking her to marry him still hadn’t worn off and she kept going over it in her mind.
‘I’m not much of a catch for a girl like you, Jessie. Your Robbie was a fine young man, handsome and strong, the sort who would have worked hard and given you a good life. I liked him a lot and I was sorry when you lost him. I know you still think about him and you haven’t found anyone you can love in the same way, but I wanted you to know I was there if you ever needed me. I’m not goin
g to pester you. I just want you to know I care for you, Jessie.’
She’d refused him immediately, of course, but he’d been so nice about it that she’d been touched and reached across the table to press his hand and say, ‘Thank you, Archie. You’re a good friend. If I change my mind I’ll let you know – but I don’t know what else to say at this moment.’
‘You don’t have to. I know how you feel. I would marry you for companionship, to take care of you – but if all I can be is your friend I’ll be that.’
Archie’s humble proposal, his kindness and his generosity had touched her. She had wanted to cry but she hadn’t because it might have embarrassed him. Instead, she told him how much she was enjoying the book he had loaned her and the subject was changed. She’d enjoyed her evening out with him, and he’d walked her to her aunt’s front door afterwards. He hadn’t tried to kiss her and she’d been grateful. She didn’t love Archie in that way and she didn’t want to be kissed by him, even though she was fond of him as a friend.
Sighing, Jessie put the whole thing out of her mind. She had been travelling for what seemed ages now and she was beginning to feel hungry. Her aunt had packed sausage rolls, sandwiches and a slice of fruit cake.
‘It’s a long way,’ Jess,’ she’d said. ‘And you never know what sort of food they’ll offer you when you get there.’
Jessie had had the carriage to herself for most of the time, the lady and gentleman who had been sitting opposite her for a start getting off about an hour after they left London. Since then no one had got into her carriage. It was only as she opened her lunch tin and started to eat that the carriage door was thrust open and someone came in from the corridor. She looked up feeling as if she’d been caught doing something impolite and could hardly keep from gasping as she saw who had entered. He was wearing the same brown suit but this time he had a battered felt hat over his dark hair. He took his hat off and sat opposite her.
