Legacy of Greyladies

by Anna Jacobs

  ‘We met a while ago. Pleased to see you again.’ Babs followed her hostess into the sitting room.

  ‘Won’t you sit down?’ Cecily indicated a chair. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘No, thank you. I’m here on business. You may not know it, but I help women who’re struggling because they’ve lost husbands, or lost their homes in the bombing. I heard you were looking for a maid.’

  Cecily gave her husband a worried glance.

  ‘We were looking for a maid,’ he said. ‘But as we can’t find one, my cousin will have to help out instead.’

  ‘I’ve already told you, I’ll be leaving after Christmas,’ Olivia said firmly. ‘I won’t change my mind, whatever you say, so you definitely need a maid.’

  As Donald opened his mouth to argue, Babs spoke again, slightly more loudly, drowning out his first words so that he stopped speaking. ‘I know a woman who’s terrified of staying in London because of the bombing. Her husband is serving in France, so she’d need to be able to see him when he comes home on leave, but apart from that she has excellent references; she used to work for a titled lady.’

  Cecily gave her husband a pleading look.

  He hrrumphed, caught Olivia’s eyes and said, ‘I’ll think about it. I prefer to do the hiring of servants, because I’m used to dealing with people. Besides, I like to know the person to whom I’m paying out my money.’

  ‘Fine. But if you won’t take my word that she’s suitable and you need to interview her before you employ her, you’ll have to pay her train fare to and from London, because she can’t afford it.’

  He stiffened visibly. ‘What?’

  ‘And her wages would be …’ She turned to Olivia and winked. ‘What would you say, Olivia? How about a pound a week and all found.’

  ‘Yes, that sounds reasonable.’

  ‘A pound! We’ve never paid more than ten shillings a week,’ Donald said immediately. ‘I don’t think—’

  ‘You’re out of touch, then. Prices have risen and so have servants’ wages. I thought your need was urgent, what with Olivia going home to Swindon after Christmas, so I came to you first. But if you’re not interested in hiring the woman, other people will snap her up.’

  He turned to Olivia. ‘It really would be better if you stayed here till the end of the war – better for both you and Cecily.’

  ‘No, Donald. My mind is quite made up.’

  He glared at her, then turned to Babs. ‘My cousin and I will have to discuss this and get back to you, Mrs Horner-Jevons. After all, she and my wife have been managing perfectly well without a full-time maid. And I’m sure when she has time to think, she won’t want to leave us in the lurch.’

  Olivia leant forward and said loudly and clearly, ‘I am leaving – after – Christmas, Donald. Cecily will not be able to manage without a maid.’

  ‘But—’

  For once, his wife interrupted him, her voice fluting with nervousness. ‘Tell us about this woman, Mrs Horner-Jevons. It’s hard to make a decision without having met her.’

  ‘Pansy is forty-five and a hard worker. She used to be head housemaid for a friend of mine until she married. After running her own home for a few years, she has discovered that she also likes cooking, so she’d be ideal for you. If you don’t wish to employ her, I can find her a job like that.’ She snapped her fingers in the air.

  ‘Donald, dear, I do think we should reconsider.’ Cecily blushed and added, ‘Especially now, with a baby on the way.’

  ‘Ah. Oh. Yes. I suppose … given the circumstances. If Olivia will be so selfish. I might find the extra money for a while. Just until the war ends.’

  ‘Good. I’ll send Pansy a telegram and she’ll be here within the week, but you’ll have to give her the train fare.’ Babs turned to Olivia. ‘And you’re still coming to spend New Year’s Eve with me in London as we agreed, aren’t you?’

  Olivia had agreed to no such thing, but her new, livelier self gave in to another of Babs’s winks, not to mention the thought of some more stimulating company. ‘Yes, I’m looking forward to it.’

  ‘Good. I’ll send someone with the car to pick you and your luggage up on the 30th, because you’ll have to go home to your Swindon house first to get your glad rags. Bring something really pretty to wear on New Year’s Eve. Humfy and I always threw a big party, and he’d want me to carry on doing it. I dare say we’ll be dancing until dawn. When those officers come home on leave, they like to enjoy themselves.’ Her face took on a fleeting look of sadness and she murmured, ‘And who can blame them?’

  Not waiting for an answer, she stood up and nodded to her hosts. ‘I’ll take my leave now. I’ll call in next time I’m down in the country to see how Pansy is liking it here, Mrs Ballam. Though, of course, she’d get in touch with me if things weren’t going well, because she knows I can always find her another job.’

  Donald’s face turned red with annoyance at this notso-subtle threat, but he didn’t say anything else.

  ‘I’ll see you out, shall I?’ Olivia walked with Babs to the car and leant against it on the side away from the house, shoulders shaking with laughter. ‘You have the devil in you sometimes, Babs. Oh!’ She clutched her stomach. ‘Did you see the shock on his face?’

  ‘I can be a bit of a devil, can’t I? But I got what I wanted and what Cecily clearly needed, as well. And poor Pansy really is terrified of staying in London. She’ll have him eating out of her hand in no time. She’s much cleverer than he is.’

  ‘You got what you wanted in more ways than one. You also nudged me into staying with you for New Year’s Eve.’

  ‘Well, you need to start living again, my dear. We widows can’t wallow in our sorrow for ever. Nothing will bring our men back, will it?’

  ‘No. You’re right. Life has to go on.’

  There was another moment’s silence, then Babs got into the car. ‘I’ll send someone to fetch you!’

  Olivia went back inside to find Donald very stiff and on his dignity, so she went into the kitchen on the excuse that she was parched and needed a cup of tea.

  Cecily came in and beamed at her. ‘Thank you so much for helping me get a maid. I’ve been trying to persuade Donald to pay higher wages for a while now. He simply doesn’t understand what it’s like running a house.’

  ‘That’s all right. Congratulations on the baby.’

  Cecily went pink, a soft expression on her face. ‘I’m so looking forward to having children. I love babies.’

  ‘Good. What do you want? A girl or a boy?’

  ‘I don’t mind. I shall love it, whichever it is.’

  ‘I’m sure you will.’

  Olivia turned to fiddle with the teacups. Once again she couldn’t help feeling jealous of another woman who’d got the thing she had wanted so desperately for years: a baby.

  She hoped she hadn’t let her sadness show. She didn’t want to spoil Cecily’s pleasure.

  Alex found life in London rather dull. He couldn’t forget how radiantly happy Mildred had looked at her wedding. He couldn’t ever remember feeling as happy as that, not even when he found a particularly fine piece of old furniture or a painting by a well-known artist.

  He might have made a lot of money, but something had always been missing from his personal life.

  So when an acquaintance invited him to tea that afternoon to meet a lady friend of the family, who had returned to London from the country, for once he accepted, instead of pleading the need to work. It was probably another go at matchmaking. People would introduce him to single women every now and then. But none of the women had attracted him and few seemed able to hold an intelligent conversation.

  He felt sorry for the poor women who were paraded before him, but he couldn’t live with a woman who bored him to tears.

  He had no expectation that this tea party would offer anything different, but he felt like getting out of the shop and talking to people.

  The phone rang just then, so he picked up the earpiece and leant f
orward to speak into the ‘mouth’ of the candlestick telephone. ‘Seaton’s Antiques.’

  ‘I’m so glad I caught you.’

  ‘Mildred! How’s married life?’

  ‘Wonderful, but never mind that. Alex, some things have been unearthed at your mother’s and I think you should see them, decide what to do about them.’

  ‘Well, can’t you post them on to me?’

  ‘I’d rather not. They’re … um, rather delicate. Besides, if you agree with me, and I think you will, you’ll need to come down to Swindon anyway.’

  ‘That sounds ominous.’

  ‘It could be.’

  ‘Can’t you tell me anything about it?’

  ‘No, dear. You never know who’s listening.’

  She was right, really. Some telephone operators did eavesdrop on conversations, everyone knew that. ‘Very well. I’ll come down. But it’ll have to be after Christmas. I have one or two projects that are at a crucial stage. One is for a war charity for whom I’m running an auction that should raise rather a lot of money.’

  ‘After Christmas will be fine. It’s just that we both need to decide what to do about this.’

  He frowned as he put down the phone. Mildred wouldn’t ask him to go to Swindon for no reason, or exaggerate the seriousness of something. Why on earth couldn’t she give him a hint about the reason, though?

  He looked at his watch. Nearly time to set off for the tea party. He’d lost all interest in it now and wished he hadn’t accepted the invitation.

  When Alex saw that the woman attending the tea party was Babs Horner-Jevons, his spirits lifted immediately. He hadn’t seen her for a good while, not since before her husband died, in fact.

  She wouldn’t be looking for a husband, and even if she was, she’d no more want to marry him than he’d want to marry her. However, she always had something interesting to say and he enjoyed her company.

  ‘I didn’t realise you two knew one another,’ his hostess said.

  ‘I’ve been a friend of Humfy and Babs for years.’

  As the two of them chatted, he saw his hostess smiling smugly, so he leant closer to Babs and whispered, ‘She’s got us married off already.’

  She let out one of her delightfully infectious gurgles of laughter. ‘Oh, dear. Shall we tell her now that we’re just friends or shall we let her hope?’

  ‘If you know the lady of the house, you can tell her. I’ve only met her once or twice and never had a real conversation with her, so I wouldn’t presume to speak to her about such a delicate subject.’

  ‘We’ll let her hope, then.’ Her expression grew sad. ‘I still miss poor Humfy.’

  He gave her a moment to blink away the tears in her eyes, then asked, ‘What are you doing with yourself now, Babs? You don’t seem to have been around lately. Have you retired to your country home?’

  ‘I’ve been spending a lot of time there, yes, but not because I’m spending my days weeping. Humfy would come back to haunt me if I did. It’s a convenient place to stay for something else I’m involved in.’

  She began telling him about the embryonic Women’s Institutes she was helping set up and he listened with interest because he hadn’t heard about this new organisation.

  ‘I’ve found someone to help the cause, a new friend, but she’s going to be a good friend, I’m sure. The trouble is, she’s stuck in deepest Wiltshire. I was going to give her a lift up to town, stopping on the way to leave some of her luggage at her house in Swindon and let her pick up some party clothes. But my car’s broken down and I can’t get it repaired until after the new year, because they haven’t got the right part.’

  ‘Can’t your friend come to London by train?’

  ‘I suppose she could, but it’d be very awkward. There isn’t a branch line to the tiny village where she’s staying. And the thing is, I’m worried about her bossy cousin. I wouldn’t put it past him to try to stop her coming if I’m not there to support her. Ballam’s a dull brute and he’s nursing a war wound, enjoying playing the hero and making everyone run round after him.’

  Alex had met a lot of men like that. Backbone of the army in one sense but he doubted they’d be pleasant to live with.

  ‘Ballam wants Olivia to look after his wife when he goes back to his regiment. Mrs B is a limp sort of female who can’t manage on her own. Oh dear, why do cars always break down when you need them? I really need to rescue Olivia.’

  ‘Another lame duck you’re taking under your wing?’

  ‘Olivia? Well, she needs help at the moment but I would never call her a lame duck. She says she hasn’t been herself since her husband’s death, but I could tell she’s getting over her loss now. The two of them were like me and Humfy, very happy together.’

  She sighed and fell silent again for a moment or two. ‘I’ve just about forced Olivia to come to my New Year’s Eve party and afterwards I’m going to nudge her into a wider social life. I’ll also get her involved in the Women’s Institute movement as an organiser. That’ll take her out and about.’

  ‘You don’t do things by halves, do you?’

  Babs gave him a very direct look. ‘If I see something that needs doing, I try to do it. I don’t always succeed, but I always try.’

  ‘I admire that. Look, as it happens, I can help out. I have to nip down to Swindon after Christmas, because something’s come up. I could easily go and pick your friend up at the same time, if you like.’

  ‘Alex, would you?’

  ‘For you, Babs, only for you. But you’ll have to promise she won’t bore me to tears.’

  She chuckled. ‘She definitely won’t. You’ll like Olivia, I’m sure. One can’t have too many friends as one dwindles into old age.’

  ‘You will never dwindle into anything, my dear. You’ll be nagging the undertakers to help one of the mourners as they screw down your coffin lid.’

  She gave a shout of laughter, then laughed even more loudly as she saw their hostess nudge her husband again.

  Alex hadn’t enjoyed himself so much for a long time.

  It was strange, though. He had never been attracted to Babs as a woman, much as he enjoyed her company and friendship.

  Who knew why you were attracted enough to some people to marry them and not at all attracted to others in that way, even though they’d be perfectly suitable spouses?

  Perhaps he was so fussy he was destined to remain a bachelor.

  But a small flicker of hope refused to die, which was why he’d come to tea today. He had promised Mildred to keep his options open, and he would keep that promise.

  Chapter Six

  Christmas seemed even quieter than usual that year. Alex had heard about another friend losing a son in France and that reminded him of how little he was able to personally contribute to the war. He seemed to have spent his whole life trying to keep up with other, stronger men.

  The highlight of his day was when Mildred rang to wish him a merry Christmas. She sounded extremely happy and that cheered him up.

  He had insisted his cook–housekeeper and maid spend the afternoon and evening with their families, but when they’d gone the house was too quiet. He even missed the faint sound of the maid humming as she went about her work or the clatter of pots from the kitchen.

  Worst of all, the silence emphasised how alone he was.

  Snap out of it, you fool! he told himself. Self-pity will get you nowhere.

  He took out a recently published novel given to him by a friend, who’d assured him he’d enjoy reading something a bit different. He looked at it and shook his head. Tarzan of the Apes wasn’t his sort of book, he was sure, but he didn’t feel like reading about eighteenth-century jewellery, which was his only other unread book, so he’d give the story a go, at least.

  Once he started reading, he couldn’t stop, had to follow the ridiculous tale to see how it ended. It couldn’t really happen that a human child would be raised by apes and then turn out to be a lord, he was sure. But the imagination was a wonderful t
hing and it was sometimes intriguing to play the ‘What if?’ game.

  The day passed quickly and he didn’t go to bed till he’d finished the whole book. He blessed his friend mentally.

  When he got up the following morning, he decided that he’d drive down to Swindon tomorrow, a day earlier than originally planned. He enjoyed driving and the weather looked fairly settled. Mildred and Edwin had offered him a bed and wouldn’t mind him turning up unannounced, he was sure.

  As they sat round the breakfast table, Olivia watched Cecily become paler by the minute. The poor thing hardly ate any breakfast these days, because she felt sick in the mornings, but she seemed to feel she should still get up with her husband.

  Olivia had been obliged to cook Donald’s breakfast for the past three days and then watch him stuff his face with food. No wonder he was getting rather stout if he always ate so much.

  Suddenly Cecily gulped, pressed her handkerchief to her mouth and rushed out, sending her chair tumbling backwards.

  ‘It’s a poor lookout her doing this to me every morning,’ Donald grumbled.

  Olivia wasn’t letting him get away with such selfishness. ‘What do you mean by “poor lookout”? And what exactly is she doing to you?’

  ‘Well, it puts a man off his food to know his wife’s about to be sick. If she has to do it, she should control herself till the meal is over.’

  ‘It doesn’t seem to have put you off your food. You never leave a crumb. You should be kinder to her. She can’t help feeling sick in the mornings and she can’t control it. Many women are like that.’

  ‘She might be able to wait if she bends her mind to other things.’

  ‘Donald, it’s impossible to think of something else when you’re about to be sick. Do be reasonable. She’s carrying your child, possibly a son. You don’t want to upset her with your complaints.’ She saw the stubborn look settle on his face and added slyly, ‘Cecily might lose the baby if she gets too upset. Your job is to keep her calm, not scold her.’