by Jess Foley
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Good. Good.’
A little silence passed, while Lily sat with her hands folded in her lap. Then Mrs Acland spoke again.
‘Well – now – Miss Clair,’ she said, ‘I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you to come and see me. The truth is, I’m afraid I have some disappointing news. Disappointing for you, that is.’
Lily waited.
‘I say disappointing for you,’ Mrs Acland went on, ‘as I have to tell you that we’ve decided, Mr Acland and I, that it’s time the girls went off to school.’
Lily nodded. ‘I see. Yes.’
‘Yes, indeed.’ Mrs Acland’s smile now was rueful. ‘Oh, dear, I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but I’m afraid there’s nothing else for it. They’re coming up to eleven now, and we’ve decided that a good boarding school is the best course for them. But sadly, of course, that means we shall no longer require your excellent services.’
So, Lily thought, she was not to be reprimanded after all; she was to be dismissed.
‘We haven’t decided exactly which school the girls will go to,’ Mrs Acland went on, ‘though we’re considering two in particular.’ She broke off, her plain face softening with sympathy. ‘I’m sorry, dear, to have to give you this news. It must be very disappointing for you. You are disappointed, aren’t you?’
Lily nodded. ‘I am indeed, ma’am. I’ve been very happy here.’ She paused. ‘Would that be in September, ma’am, when the girls go away?’
‘Yes. They don’t know about it yet. We haven’t told them. Please don’t mention it to them.’
‘No, of course not.’
‘I’ve no idea how they’ll take to the idea,’ Mrs Acland said. ‘I don’t think they’ll look forward to going away from home, and I’m sure they’ll miss you, Miss Clair. They’re very fond of you, and they enjoy their lessons. Also I want you to know that Mr Acland and I have no complaints whatsoever with regard to your work, but, as you’ll understand, we have to think of the girls’ future.’ She paused. ‘I doubt this has come as the greatest shock to you, has it, Miss Clair?’
‘No, ma’am. It was inevitable at some time.’
‘Of course. You’re twenty-three now, aren’t you? Is that correct? You had a birthday at the beginning of the month.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
Mrs Acland nodded. ‘Well, you’re still very young – and I’ve no doubt you’ll soon find yourself another position.’ She smiled. ‘Of course, you can be assured that Mr Acland and I will give you an excellent reference. No question about that.’
Lily murmured her thanks, and then asked, ‘So – for how much longer will you have need of me, ma’am?’
‘Ah, yes,’ Mrs Acland nodded. ‘Mr Acland and I would like you to stay on for another four weeks. That will take us to near the end of August – Saturday the twenty-sixth.
Lily nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am.’ She could think of nothing else to say. She had been given very little time.
‘Of course,’ Mrs Acland continued, ‘we’re well aware that your contract takes you to the beginning of December – and we wouldn’t want you to be the loser with regard to those weeks, so you can rest assured that you’ll be paid up until that time.’
Lily was relieved. ‘Thank you, ma’am, that’s very good of you.’
‘Not at all. We came to the conclusion that the girls have to go away, but we only made the final decision a few days ago. I wanted to tell you without too much delay, so that you can start looking out for a new post and get settled again as soon as possible.’
‘Yes, I shall have to.’
A few moments of silence went by, then Mrs Acland said, a little note of relief in her voice, ‘Well, anyway, that’s got that business out of the way. I didn’t look forward to having to tell you, but there’s nothing for it, is there?’ She smiled. ‘So tell me now – how have you been getting on lately? We never have the chance to exchange more than two or three words. We’re always so busy, it seems. I assume you’ve been well.’
‘Oh, indeed, yes, ma’am. I’ve been very well.’
‘That’s good. Have you heard from your brother lately?’
‘Not for a little while, no. He writes when he can, but it’s not often.’
‘He’s still in London, is he?’
‘Yes, he is.’
Mrs Acland nodded. ‘I’ve been there twice, and that was enough. I don’t know how people live there. Oh, good heavens, the dirt, the soot, and I don’t-know-what-else.’ She shook her head, then, with a pleasurable little sigh said, ‘I must say it’s nice to sit and chat for two minutes. Esme will be bringing me some tea soon. Would you like to join me over a cup, Miss Clair?’
Lily hesitated. She did not wish to appear rude, but she was anxious to get away. ‘Oh, ma’am,’ she said, ‘at any other time I would be so pleased to, but today I’ve got to go into Corster for Miss Balfour.’
Mrs Acland nodded. ‘Oh, yes, you go in for her rents, don’t you.’
‘Yes, every fortnight. It helps her out.’
‘I’m sure it does.’ Mrs Acland clasped her hands before her. ‘Well, I suppose you’d better go, then, or you’ll be late.’
‘Yes, ma’am. Thank you.’
‘Fine. And we’ll see you on Monday morning as usual.’
‘Yes, indeed.’ The meeting was over.
From Yew Tree House, Lily made her way to Roseberry Cottage, where she used her latchkey to let herself into the small hall. The door to the little parlour was open and as she closed the front door she heard her landlady’s voice call out to her: ‘That you, Lily?’ – her usual greeting – and Lily replied, also as usual, ‘Yes, Mrs Thorne, it’s me.’ As she moved to the stairs, the landlady came to the parlour door, carrying a letter.
‘Here you are, dear – this came just after you left this morning.’
Lily took one glance at the writing on the envelope and saw that it was from Tom. Mrs Thorne noted the gladness in her expression and said, ‘You look pleased.’
‘Yes. It’s from my brother in London.’
‘Oh – well, let’s hope it’s good news.’
Eager to read the letter, Lily started towards the stairs. As she did so, Mrs Thorne said, ‘You’ll be off to Sherrell a bit later, will you?’
‘Yes, but I’m going into Corster on the way. Just as soon as I’ve washed my face and tidied myself up a bit.’
‘Well, the kettle’s on the hob, and the water’s good and hot. I’ll bring it up and leave it outside your door.’
‘Thank you very much, but I’ll come down and get it.’
‘Well, that’ll save my old hip. Would you like a cup of tea or something before you go? And maybe a nice little cheese sandwich? Just to keep you going.’
‘Thank you, I would.’ Lily was glad of the invitation; there was news she had to give to Mrs Thorne. ‘Though I mustn’t be late,’ she added.
Up in her small room she wasted no time but tore open the envelope and took out Tom’s letter. He had written:
Hotel Trevin
Camden Town
London E
26th July 1871
Dear Lil,
I’m sorry I haven’t wrote in a while, but there’s been nothing to tell. And anyway, you know I’m not much of a letter-man. Now, though, I must tell you that I’m leaving London and coming back to Wiltshire. I’m working at a hotel here right now, and I’ve got just three days to go. Come Saturday, when I’ve been paid, I can set out. I shall get back as soon as I can and will start looking for work right away. This is a good time of year what with the harvest and everything, and I reckon I’m fairly sure of finding a job. I know a couple of places to try. I’m looking forward to seeing you, Lil, and I hope you haven’t been worrying too much about me. I’m well, believe me. I’ll write to you again as soon as I’m back so we can arrange to meet.
Till then, I am, and shall always be
Your loving brother
Tom
So, a
t last, after all this time he was coming back. He’d be leaving today. Another fortnight or so, and they would meet. She folded the letter and put it back in the envelope.
Having fetched up the hot water from the kitchen, Lily washed away the dust from the warm day and then changed into her second-best dress, the dark blue cotton, observing as she did so that it was showing its age. No matter, she had not the money at present for new clothes, and with her employment with the Acland children coming to an end, she must needs watch her spending. The little she had would not last for long.
When she was ready she went downstairs into the kitchen where Mrs Thorne had laid out the tea things.
‘Good news from your brother?’ Mrs Thorne asked as Lily came in.
‘Yes,’ Lily said. ‘He’s coming back to Wiltshire. He’s leaving London today. He should be here in a week.’
‘Oh, well, that’s very nice,’ Mrs Thorne said. She moved towards the range where the kettle was singing.
Lily watched the older woman as she busied herself, and in no time the tea was made. Mrs Thorne had also put out a plate of thinly-cut cheese sandwiches and another with a fruit cake that she had baked that day. Lily declined the cake, but gratefully took a sandwich. As she ate and drank she gave her landlady the news that her post at the Aclands’ was soon to come to an end, and that she must at once start to look for other employment. It would, she added, almost certainly mean that she would also have to give up her lodgings. Mrs Thorne sighed and said sadly, yes, she was aware of that, and added that she would be very sorry to see Lily go.
When Lily’s plate and cup were empty she thanked Mrs Thorne and got up to leave. She would see her tomorrow evening, she said, on her return from Sherrell.
Six minutes after reaching Little Patten station she was on the train and heading for Corster.
On her arrival she set off through the main part of the town towards its edge. Twenty minutes’ walk brought her to the river where she crossed at the narrow old bridge and, at the saddlery on the corner, turned into Brookham Way. There she saw ahead of her the two narrow houses, numbers one and two Merridew Villas, owned by Miss Elsie.
Regularly every fortnight, for well over two years now, Lily had been calling on the two elderly tenants of the dwellings, collecting the rent on Miss Elsie’s behalf. Miss Elsie, begrudging a rent-collector’s commission, had used to do it herself, but since Lily had offered to take over the task it had become an accepted responsibility.
She had come to know the tenants during her fortnightly visits, and it had become her custom to take tea with them, turn and turn about. This pattern was going to change, though, for soon one of the tenants, Mrs Callinthrop, would be going to live with her daughter in another part of the town. It was Mrs Callinthrop on whom she called first this Saturday, and when the rent business had been concluded she drank a cup of tea with the old lady and then went next door to see the other tenant, Mrs Tanner. With more tea politely declined and the rest of her business done, Lily stayed for a while to chat, then said her goodbyes and set off back towards the town centre.
The streets were busy. At a corner shop she stopped to buy copies of two local newspapers, and then continued on, eventually coming to the Victoria Gardens. The entrance was set at the rear of a paved courtyard with benches, a fountain and a horse-trough. One of the benches was vacant, and she sat down on it, facing out across the busy street towards the corn exchange and the museum. The day seemed not overly warm now, and there was a gentle breeze that was pleasantly cooling. From her bag she took one of the newspapers.
The main news on the front page of the Wiltshire Echo concerned a case of murder that had taken place in a nearby village, while there was also a report of three cases of smallpox in the town of Redbury. Lily moved on through the pages to those bearing the classified advertisements. In the column listing ‘Situations Vacant’, there was only one for a governess locally. That was in Little Wickenham, some distance off to the south of Corster. Lily determined that she would write after it over the weekend.
As she sat there, idly watching the carriages moving back and forth and the townspeople going about their business, there came drifting on the air the sound of music. It was coming from the park behind her, from the bandstand. A military march was being played. The sound was stirring and full of vitality as the brass rang out and the drums reverberated on the summer air. With its sound, Lily was transported back to that summer in Whitton when she and Joel had sat in the park while the brass band had played: those summer afternoons, when they had sat by the pond; when he had sketched her portrait; when they had watched the Punch and Judy show; when he bought for her the little spray of linen flowers. She could see the different scenes and images as if they had come from yesterday. She could still hear the murmuring voices and the bursts of laughter that had rung out from the other people out there in the sun. And she and Joel had been among them, caught up only in their feelings, and their growing discovery of one another.
Where was Joel now, she wondered. He too, like Tom, had been out of her life for such a long time. Her last sight of him had been on the station platform at Hanborough, when she had thrust her address into his hand.
Three and a half years. So much time had gone by. And what had she to show for it, that passing time which, although sometimes fleeting, had on so many occasions crawled by in her solitude? Most girls of her age were married by now, or were at least promised – and of those married young women, many were mistresses of their own homes, with babies to care for. Lily, for all her ambitions, had little to show for the time. Granted, she had enjoyed her work at the Aclands’, but that would soon be over, and unless she found new employment soon she would become destitute. She had taken so much goodwill and kindness from Miss Elsie, and indeed, she reckoned, she was still in her debt.
The thought came to her of her stepmother. Lily did not correspond with her in any but the most cursory terms. On occasion she wrote a short letter, enclosing a small amount of money for Dora – money that she could ill afford – and her stepmother would reply with grudging thanks, but other than that there was no communication between them. For Lily it was not a matter of regret.
The band played on, but the music had changed. The march had finished and now the tune being played was that of a popular music-hall song, ‘The Boy on the Quay’, some of the words of which went through Lily’s head as she sat there. She looked up at the clock. It was time she set off to catch her train.
Chapter Twenty
‘It had to come sooner or later – but you knew that.’
Miss Elsie looked across her desk at Lily, who sat in the chair facing her, an open newspaper on her knees.
‘Yes, of course you’re right,’ Lily said. ‘The girls are of an age where they need proper schooling, and to mix with other children. As you say, it was only a matter of time. I suppose I’m lucky I kept the post as long as I did.’
It was almost six-fifteen, and Lily had not long arrived at Rowanleigh. On entering the house she had soon joined Miss Elsie in her study where she handed over the rent money and told of her visits to the Villas’ occupants. After speaking a little of the two elderly tenants, she had given the dismaying news of having received notice of the termination of her employment.
‘Well, there’s no doubt that you were successful in your work,’ Miss Elsie said now, ‘so you can be sure you’ll get excellent references.’ She took a sip from a little glass of sherry, then took her tobacco pouch from a drawer. Lily watched as she efficiently rolled a cigarette and lighted it with a match.
‘So – you’ve got four weeks left with the Aclands,’ Miss Elsie said, blowing out smoke. ‘You can’t afford to waste them.’
‘No, I certainly can’t.’
Miss Elsie shook her head. ‘Unfortunately I should think the best posts will have been taken by now, and I don’t doubt there’ll be other young women in the same boat as you – all desperately searching around to see what’s on offer as they lose their pupils
to schools. You’ll have to look sharp.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Have you told Mrs Thorne you’ll be leaving soon?’
‘Yes, I have, and I’m sorry for her sake. I know she needs the money.’
Miss Elsie nodded in sympathy. ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘if you find a position around here, and they’re happy to have a daily, visiting governess, your room will always be here for you.’
‘Thank you.’ Lily was, as always, touched by the woman’s kindness.
Miss Elsie gestured with her cigarette towards the newspaper in Lily’s lap. ‘Did you find anything in the Echo?’
‘There’s one that looks a possibility,’ Lily said, ‘but it’s in Little Wickenham.’ She picked up the paper, already folded back, and held it out across the desk.
Miss Elsie took it and cast her eyes over the advertisement Lily had marked. ‘Little Wickenham’s a good way off,’ she said, ‘but there’s not that much on offer, is there? Are you going to apply?’
‘Yes. I shall write today.’
‘Good.’ Miss Elsie put the newspaper down on the desk and got to her feet. ‘Come and sit round here and write your letter now. There’s no time like the present. I’ve got to go down and help with the dinner.’ She pressed out the remains of her cigarette in a glass ashtray and waved away the lingering smoke. ‘There’s writing paper and envelopes in the drawer – and stamps too, so your letter can go off right away.’ She moved towards the door. ‘Now I must go down to the kitchen. Give Mrs Nessant a hand.’
As Miss Elsie opened the door, Lily said, ‘I heard from my brother today.’
‘Oh, you did?’ Miss Elsie turned in the doorway. ‘Was it good news?’
‘Yes, indeed. He’s leaving London to come back to Wiltshire.’
‘Well, that is good news.’
‘He’s leaving today. He’ll write again as soon as he’s back.’
‘He’ll be looking for a job, of course, once he gets here.’
‘Yes – though it shouldn’t be too hard to find one, he says. Not at this time of year.’
