Frederick looked around the small room at the back of the hall as if he didn’t see it every day. Cobwebs festooned the tiny crystal chandelier and the fringed rug was rucked up by the desk, its pattern almost invisible under a layer of dust and balled-up scraps of paper that had missed the waste-paper basket.
‘If you’re going out, I can do it while you’re gone so you won’t be disturbed,’ suggested Jeanie.
‘Jeanie, the way you disturb me has nothing to do with vacuuming the rug,’ said Frederick, ‘but I have lost a receipt I need to file so I think it would be a good idea if we have a tidy-up.’
‘We?’ asked Jeanie, but wondering more whether she’d heard the first part correctly. He surely didn’t say that?
‘Of course we. My dear Jeanie, you may be the best housekeeper on this earth but there’s no way I’m allowing anyone loose in my study unsupervised.’
‘Oh … I …’
‘It’s not that I don’t trust you, but only I know what things are and where they go, and, despite how it appears, there is some order here.’
‘Oh, aye? I’ll take your word for that,’ said Jeanie.
‘We can start now, if you like, as I do need to find that receipt,’ suggested her employer.
‘Right, we’ll remove all the paper to a safe place and you can go through it while I get rid of the dust. Would that suit you?’
‘Perfectly, Jeanie. You’re a woman in a million. Now please go and make us some coffee and I’ll get started on the paper.’
Jeanie went down the winding stairs to the basement kitchen to face the complicated coffee percolator, trying to make sense of what Frederick had said earlier about her disturbing him. In the end she decided she had misheard and she calmly brought up the coffee, stopping to admire the new painting that had taken the place of Flora in the hall.
Suddenly it occurred to her how different her life was now from how it had been in Shenty Street. Here she was, a housekeeper to a nice man in a posh house, drinking coffee, of all things, surrounded by beautiful items that came and went as Frederick bought and sold them, so there was always something new to admire and to wonder at. Even the smallest of these treasures would be like the very best thing she owned if it were removed to Pendle’s. Who’d have thought that Jeanie Carter of Shenty Street, up to her elbows in other folks’ washing, would, just a few months later, be working here – and for such a kind man?
Michael, with his charm and his twinkly-eyed smile, had turned out to be a right slacker, there was no doubt about that. Her mother had warned her but Jeanie wouldn’t listen and she knew that was down to her and no one else. He’d been lazy and a drinker when she’d met him, and he hadn’t changed a bit. But this time his stupidity seemed, against all odds, to have landed them all on their feet. She worried about Michael, but then she probably always would. He was bound to get into another fix before long. But the others were all doing all right.
And what about Evie? She was less anxious about everything since Letitia Mortimer had come into her life. Letty was such a nice girl. It was sad about her parents, though, killed in a car crash at the beginning of summer, and the poor child orphaned and now living with Miss Richards, her mother’s sister. Letty hadn’t decided what to do with her life just yet, and who could blame her after that amount of upset?
With a sigh Jeanie took the coffee through to the study where Frederick had put all the loose paper and files into three enormous random heaps.
‘Now, we can take all these piles of paper into the sitting room and you can sort it out while I get to work on those filthy windows,’ she said.
‘Jeanie, you’re an angel. I bet you can clean the entire room before I’ve sorted the filing, though.’
‘I bet I can,’ she laughed, looking at the tottering heaps of files. ‘Just take that waste-paper basket with you, will you? I reckon you’ll need it …’
They worked all morning in adjacent rooms, calling across to each other occasionally but mostly busy in silence. Jeanie was very careful with the chandelier and the little pictures. Early on, Frederick had given her a special brush to stroke the surfaces and she took it slowly, knowing she’d never be able to pay for any breakages.
Eventually, Frederick emerged from the sitting room into the hall and held up his hands, which were black with dust. ‘I’ll just go and wash my hands and then we’ll have some lunch. How do you fancy going to get some fish and chips?’
Jeanie held up her own hands, laughing. ‘Snap! And I bet my face looks the same.’
‘Jeanie, your face looks lovely,’ he said seriously, and as her heart started to beat with a furious excitement he stepped forward and gently kissed her mouth. Before she knew it – before she had grasped a rational thought – he had wrapped her in his arms and was kissing her fiercely, with a passion she couldn’t help but return.
‘I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I set eyes on you,’ he said.
And in that moment, Jeanie’s decision that would change her family’s life forever was made. There was no turning back.
CHAPTER NINE
Robert was jumping up and down on the spot with excitement as Evie locked the front door of Pendle’s and the family set off together for the school Bonfire Night celebrations and fund-raising event.
‘Have you got your gloves, Bob?’ asked Jeanie.
‘Yes. And Dad’s going to carry the marrow because it weighs—’
‘Shush! We don’t want to know. There may be spies about and this is secret information known only to you,’ said Peter.
Robert covered his mouth with his hand briefly. ‘My lips are sealed,’ he announced.
‘I’ve got you a tin for the takings,’ said Evie, holding up an old sweet tin.
‘And I’ve got the chocolate cake for best guess,’ said Jeanie, picking up her basket.
‘And there’s some pennies for toffee apples in my pocket,’ said Sue. ‘So I think we’re ready.’
Streetlamps lit the way down the High Street. As the Carters neared the school gates they slowed with the throng of people heading into the school grounds, which were illuminated with electric lanterns hung on wires.
‘I’ll go on ahead with Bob and we’ll find his table,’ said Michael. ‘I’ll be glad to put this blessed marrow down.’
‘You’ll need the tin,’ said Evie, handing it to Robert.
‘Look, there’s James and Brian,’ Peter said, pointing out the Thomas twins. The boys were carrying violin cases. Peter had only his penny whistle as he’d declared his guitar playing, a recent interest at school, not yet up to public performance standard. ‘And Letty and Martin, too. I’ll see you all later.’ He went off to join his fellow band members. Letty gave the Carters a big smile and a wave and then the musicians disappeared to get themselves ready to play.
‘We’ll give Bob a few minutes to set up his stall – he can manage that, or at least he can with his dad’s help – and then I’ll go and pretend to guess the weight to start him off,’ said Jeanie. ‘I’ll hang on to the cake – he’ll only lose it or step on it or summat – and the prize-giving isn’t until after the fireworks.’
‘Look, there’s Jack,’ said Evie. She ran over to greet her friend. ‘What are you doing here, Jack? Aren’t there fireworks in Redmond?’
‘Hello, Evie. You look snug in that hat. Yes, there are, but I’d a bit of business for Mr Bailey out this way today and Mr Clackett said he’d like some help with the bonfire, so I’ve been here most of the afternoon building it up with last-minute contributions. People have been generous with their old timber,’ he laughed. ‘Mrs Clackett made the guy and it’s pretty life-like.’
‘Ooh, I must go and see it before you light the bonfire,’ Evie said, and Jack gallantly extended his arm to escort her to the field behind the school.
Just as they approached the band struck up ‘The Irish Rover’, Letty playing her guitar and singing as purely and sweetly as Evie had ever heard anyone sing. Peter played a tune between verses, the Thomas b
oys lent depth and heart on their fiddles, and Martin shook and tapped his tambourine and sang harmony to Letty’s lovely voice.
There was plenty of applause at the end and Letty said, ‘If you like what you hear, guess the weight of the marrow. It’s only a penny a go.’ A queue formed at Robert’s table and for a minute he looked panicked, but he gathered himself and loudly instructed every punter to ‘Write your name and the weight clearly, please.’
Letty smiled and waved at Evie and then counted the band in for the next number, a song Evie had never heard before about … a gigantic marrow! She guessed it had been written by Peter because familiar names were mentioned: Mr Clackett and Michael Carter, and the chorus had a catchy tune about a marrow that ‘grew and grew’.
Evie was laughing so much by the end that her sides ached, and the queue in front of Robert was enormous.
Jeanie had met up with Josie Lambert, who had brought her children but lost her husband in the crowd.
‘Never mind,’ she said, ‘he’ll turn up. Gives me a chance to ask you …’ and she started to ask about solutions to baby Nancy’s teething problems, which Jeanie didn’t mind at all because the baby was so cute and she loved to hold her.
Sue wandered off to see what she could make of the stalls. She didn’t often go out after dark these days and she’d noticed as soon as she left the house how difficult it had become to see where she was going without proper light, and to make out who people were. She could hear Peter’s band distantly, sounding very professional, and she thought that Peter’s talents would take him far from them before very long.
The fund-raising stalls were either games with prizes, or food and drink. There was treacle toffee, shattered into pieces with a hammer and sold in paper cones for a penny ha’penny, and toffee apples, too. There was mulled ale on a stand run by the Red Lion – Michael was standing there with a large beaker of it – and the Tombola. Sue looked at the prizes but decided she didn’t fancy winning any of them, but she did buy toffee apples for Robert and Peter.
She had just turned away when her ears pricked up at the mention of a familiar name. Two women were standing close by, obviously unaware of Sue in the dim light.
‘… owned by Frederick Bailey, you know, him that lives in Redmond and drives a red car.’
‘Oh, yes? I’ve heard mention of his name. Sells this and that, I gather.’
‘Antiques – overpriced bric-a-brac, I expect. But his real claim to fame is the number of times he’s been married.’
‘Oh, the poor man. Widowed more than once? I gather he’s not old.’
‘Not widowed,’ said the gossip. ‘Divorced.’ She hissed the word with horror in her voice. ‘Three times, no less.’
‘No!’
‘Yes! And the second and third Mrs Baileys were someone else’s wives before they took up with him. Lured them away from their husbands, so I heard.’
‘Who’d have thought? So he isn’t still married, then?’
‘No, I told you, divorced the lot of them. Men like him should carry a sign to warn women what they’re like, dangerous. You wouldn’t catch me keeping him company.’
At this Sue, whose stomach was flipping like a pancake, chanced a peek over her shoulder to glimpse the gossip: a hugely fat woman in her early seventies, with a face like an unplumped cushion. If she hadn’t felt so upset Sue would have dealt the gossip a put-down. As it was, she moved away to calm herself and have a quiet think.
Could it be true? And even if it were, what had it to do with her – with Jeanie? Sue had to acknowledge now what she’d tried to ignore these past weeks: that Jeanie was obviously fond of Frederick Bailey. But was there more to it than that? Jeanie could be wayward and Sue knew that, as her only child, Jeanie had been a bit spoiled and allowed much of what she wanted. She was still very pretty, and recently Sue had been pleased to see that Jeanie was looking after herself much better than she had in Shenty Street. She’d started doing her hair in a new way and she now walked with a spring in her step that had not been there in recent months.
Sue looked across to where Michael was buying himself another beaker of mulled ale, laughing with Jack, who now had Letty beside him. Michael’s face had coarsened over the years and he was less obviously charming and more obviously lazy these days. Could it be Michael that was bringing the roses to Jeanie’s cheeks? Somehow Sue doubted it.
‘Mrs Goodwin? Are you all right?’
It was Miss Richards.
‘I’m fine, thank you, Miss Richards. Just getting away from the crowd for a moment, that’s all. Your Letty’s got a lovely voice. I had no idea she was such a talented singer. I saw quite a gathering where the band was playing. It’s good of her to support Robert that way.’
‘She loves an audience,’ said Miss Richard indulgently. ‘It’s good that she’s doing something so cheering after all her troubles.’
‘Your troubles, too, love,’ said Sue, giving Miss Richards’ arm a squeeze. ‘Come on, let’s go and see this bonfire being lit.’
‘Good idea – and I still haven’t had a go at Guess the Weight …’
The bonfire was lit and was soon blazing fiercely, then the stalls were closed while the fireworks were set off so that those doing the fund-raising could enjoy them along with everyone else. There was much oohing and aahing from the crowd and applause at the end. Then the stallholders returned to do more business or announce the results of the games. The Red Lion’s mulled ale was going fast, and already over-tired little ones were being taken home to bed.
Robert took a long time to go through all the entries for Guess the Weight of the Marrow, so Jeanie helped him in the end and the winner of the chocolate cake was declared to be Mr Clackett. Jeanie privately thought he’d weighed more than a few marrows in his time so had an advantage over most people, but he had paid to have a go, so that was all that mattered.
‘I think I’ll just go and see who’s in the Lion,’ Michael told Jeanie, and shuffled off out of the school gate.
‘Aren’t you going to stop and help us with …?’
Too late, Michael had wandered away and seemed not to hear.
Jeanie and Sue tidied up Robert’s stall and made sure the tin of money was safely in Jeanie’s basket while Evie and Peter said goodbye to their friends.
Jack approached Jeanie and Sue as they were wondering what to do with the marrow. ‘Have you seen Michael?’ he asked. ‘Mr Clackett and I could do with a hand taking down the lanterns and making the fire safe before we go.’
‘Oh … he said he was going to the Lion,’ said Jeanie, embarrassed. ‘I’m sure he didn’t mean to abandon you.’
‘I’ll help,’ said Peter. ‘Here, Mum.’ He handed Jeanie his penny whistle. ‘I’ll see you at home.’
‘The more help we have, the quicker we’ll be,’ said Jack. And he and Peter went off together to tackle dismantling the lighting.
‘I can’t believe Michael’s not here,’ Jeanie fumed. ‘It’s blinkin’ typical of him these days. In fact, it’s typical of him altogether.’
‘Well, he was never a grafter, love, you always knew that.’
‘I did, Mum. Somehow I never used to mind.’
‘And you do now?’
‘Mmm … The rest of us – we’re all doing our bit. And you and Evie are doing amazing with the sewing, and I’ve got my own job, too. But Michael – he’s content to do as little as possible. He can hardly even manage his job properly. I haven’t forgotten Mr Clackett giving him that warning. For goodness’ sake, Mum, he only has to turn up and do as he’s asked. It may be cold and mucky now it’s autumn but it’s not exactly difficult, is it?’ She realised she’d raised her voice and she looked around to make sure no one else had heard. ‘Sorry, Mum, but I lose all patience with him sometimes.’
‘And how are you getting on with “your own job”?’ asked Sue. ‘Do you know, I’ve yet to meet Frederick Bailey? What’s it like, working for him?’
‘It’s fine, Mum. I’ve told you, I do a lot of
dusting and tidying up. He’s very untidy and tends to lose things and leave the place in a mess, but it’s clean dirt, if you know what I mean. The kitchen’s the worst because he has no idea about washing stuff up and putting it away. In fact, I meant to tell you, I’ve said I’ll cook his dinner – lunch, he calls it – and wash up afterwards, so I shan’t be home so early from now on. And he wants me to get the shopping in, too, which means the job’s a bit more interesting than just keeping the place clean.’
‘Oh, aye?’
‘Yes, and I’ve organised a system for his post. He was always losing his letters and receipts and stuff, but I put it in a special tray when it arrives and he works through it.’
‘You sound very organised,’ said Sue. ‘I gather there isn’t a Mrs Bailey or he wouldn’t need a housekeeper,’ she ventured.
‘No, he isn’t married.’
‘Was there a Mrs Bailey?’ Sue persisted, trying to find a way of telling her the truth. ‘I wonder a man who seems to have so much doesn’t have a wife. And he’s not bad-looking – Evie told me that.’
‘It’s none of my business, Mum,’ said Jeanie carefully. ‘I’ve never asked him. But you’re right, there certainly isn’t a Mrs Bailey these days. Maybe she died or summat. I don’t like to ask.’
‘Oh, I’m sure Frederick wouldn’t mind you asking,’ Sue said. ‘After all, if you knew the full picture you wouldn’t put your foot in it by mistake. It isn’t like you’d gossip about him or anything. But you’d know not to say the wrong thing, then.’
‘I hope I wouldn’t say the wrong thing anyway,’ said Jeanie. ‘All I know is, there’s no Mrs Bailey at Marlowe House, and that’s all I need to know.’
‘All right, love. Just wondering, that’s all,’ Sue replied. ‘Now let’s get some cocoa on. It’s getting cold and I think Peter will want some after helping with the clearing up.’
A Woman's Fortune Page 12
