Dora Annie

by Patricia Stone

  Once a year Mother would soak the workings of the clock in the strong soda water that was left over after she had finished washing the clothes. Then she used a feather to oil the working parts with paraffin, and to this day the clock is chiming in Dora’s granddaughter’s house. She wrote this book.

  At last! Dora had reached the farmhouse, a pretty mellow stone building with lots of honeysuckle, early roses and a rear kitchen garden. Dora hid behind a bush and replaced her starched drawers, then walked up to the door and rang the doorbell, heart beating nervously. The farmer and his frail wife met her at the door and welcomed her into their home. He was a large, strong man, with a very red weather-beaten face; his wife was small, fair and gentle. Dora was shown to her room and they explained her duties; ringing the large handbell outside the kitchen door if Mrs Moaby was unwell, sitting beside her while she rested, helping to lay the table before mealtimes, and a few other light domestic chores. She was allowed to go home for one Sunday each month.

  At supper time Dora met the farmer’s two sons. They were very big and they seemed very shy with Dora, but she soon made them laugh. After all, she was used to a large family sitting around the kitchen table at mealtimes, with lots of laughter and teasing from her brothers and sisters.

  Once the table had been cleared, with help from Dora, it was time for bed. It had been an exciting but exhausting day and she was relieved to climb the stairs to her bedroom.

  How wonderful to have a room all of my own, she thought. It was a lovely little room with pretty floral curtains at the window, a chest for her clothes and her very own feather bed. At home she always had to share with her sisters.

  Dora climbed into the bed and stretched luxuriously, then looked out of the window at the beautiful, undulating countryside. After her nightly prayers, which children were taught to say in the 1880s, she went straight to sleep.

  The next morning, she came downstairs to help Mrs Moaby. They placed the china and breakfast on the table. Mrs Rogers, the daily help, had cooked a fine meal: porridge, bacon, eggs, toast and strong tea. Dora went outside and rang the bell for the farmer and his sons to come in from the fields and have their break. They had been working for several hours, since dawn. She felt very responsible and grown up, but she thought this was more like play than work.

  After the meal she helped clear the table and then it was time for Mrs Moaby to have her rest. Dora went with her and sat by the bed, silently reading the lessons and texts which she had been set by Father Dudley and brought with her from home. This is a fine job, she thought. But how homesick she was for her family, badly missing her parents and brothers and sisters, snuggling up with her sisters at night and the giggles and fun they had with each other, but she consoled herself by thinking of how much she was helping the family. With her living and working with the Moabys, it meant that there was one less person to feed every week, as well as the salary, in these difficult times.

  The farmers around Dora’s village were in great financial trouble. Some of her father’s friends were out of work because the farmers were unable to pay their wages. Dora hoped desperately that her husbandman father would be kept on, because the whole family would starve if he lost his job. They would be forced to leave their cottage, which came with his job, and there would be no help from the state – so the family would be placed in the workhouse. This was greatly feared, as they would be split up. Women and children were put in one part of the building and the men in the other. They would all have to work at whatever jobs the workhouse put them to, but at least they would be fed and have a roof over their heads. Workhouse people would just have starved otherwise as they tried to live in the fields and hedgerows. This did sometimes happen.

  Back home in Quenington, Dora’s father, Joseph, had very good news to report. Because of his hard work and ability to read and write, he was to become the gamekeeper to the local landowners. This was a very important job, entailing long hours away from home raising game birds, and many nights patrolling the woods and fields to protect the birds from poachers. Nevertheless, it was nothing like as hard as working in the fields. Joseph knew most of the village poachers well, so he could keep an eye on them. Indeed, everyone knew everyone else in such a small village. So, although he earned much more money, it was a difficult job, where tact and common sense were essential if you were to avoid feuds with some of your neighbours.

  On the Sunday morning of her very first monthly visit back home, she was so excited that she left the farm at dawn and arrived in time for breakfast with her family. What a feast they had; all Dora’s favourites: bacon, eggs and fried bread plus some candied fruit for the second course. Then, very full and happy, they all headed off in their best clothes to their local church, St Mary’s in Fairford.

  Dora loved this church, and if she was lucky she would see the resident church cat, Salome, who lived in the porch, though on most days would sneak into the church to find a sunny spot to have a snooze. One morning, during Communion, Salome was really naughty and jumped onto the high altar, daintily stepping along the white altar cloth and sniffing all the serving cups before settling down for a sleep in the sun. The churchwarden tried to pick her up, but she dug her claws into the altar cloth and he had a real struggle to get her off. Dora and her family dissolved into giggles.

  The glorious stained-glass windows fascinated Dora, especially the pane depicting Eve’s temptation. Eve had long blonde hair and was completely nude. The serpent was blue, with a woman’s head and torso, but with cat’s paws offering the tempting apple to Eve. The other one that she always stared at was Cain Killing Abel; it seemed so real. The window that made her laugh was the one showing a blue devil wheeling an old woman to Hell in a brown wheelbarrow. She thought of Old Mother Turkington, a villager who was very nasty to everyone and always cross with the village children. She wondered if this would eventually be Ma Turkington’s fate.

  Her mother had her baby brother, Joe, for Dora to fuss over. Sitting in the church amongst her family, with her mum breastfeeding Joe during the sermon, Dora felt full of love for her family, and so happy to be with them all.

  On the way back from church the family walked down the main village street, greeting lots of friends and neighbours on the way and exchanging news. Dora was asked many times about her new job, and was thrilled to tell everything about the farm where she now lived and the farmer she worked for.

  There were a couple of chapmen – tinkers on the road – selling cloth, ribbons, belts, kettles, and pots and pans. One of them had a donkey pulling his cart and Dora made a great fuss of him. She was very intrigued by the cross on the donkey’s back. Her mother bought a few ribbons for the girls, and they went on their way. This part of Gloucestershire was known locally as ‘Neddyshire’, because of the large number of pack-donkeys distributing goods to all the villages.

  They returned home to a fine lunch of roast chicken, potatoes, carrots, parsnips and, best of all, her mum’s delicious gravy. How Mother made it was a mystery, the secret ingredients known only to the adult females of the family and never, ever by any male or child. This was followed by a fine apple crumble and custard. Then, while her parents had a rest, Dora and her siblings played in the garden. It was such fun to be back. After tea and cakes, it was time for Dora to set off for the farm. With a heavy heart, wishing so much that she could stay, she said goodbye to everyone and trotted off along the road, back to the Moabys’ farmhouse.

  “Can you help me with my lessons, Mrs Moaby?” said Dora one day. “I will be getting so far behind my sisters without some help.”

  “Of course, Dora, we will start today. Bring your books and we will sit in the garden under the shade of the old oak,” said Mrs Moaby kindly. Each afternoon, for a couple of hours, Mrs Moaby helped her. If the weather was fine they studied outside under the oak tree; if cold or wet, Dora was instructed in the neat and charming sewing room.

  All through the summer Dora’s duties
continued and, although she greatly missed her family, her new friends always made her welcome. She only had to ring the bell a few times for the farmer and his sons when Mrs Moaby felt faint and Dora thought she needed some help. But all was well and her mistress recovered quickly after a rest.

  Her mother, together with two of her younger sisters, visited a few times, and this was a real joy for Dora. She was thrilled to show them her bedroom with her own little chest of drawers to put her belongings in. Dora had also collected some naturally coloured stones, which she had arranged in a pretty pattern on top of the chest, together with a jam jar filled with wild flowers which she picked for their visits. What luxury to have this room to herself. Mother said she was a very lucky girl, and her sister Rhoda agreed. Although nothing was said, Dora knew that Rhoda felt that her having this room to herself was some compensation for the loss of family life.

  Despite inevitably making a few mistakes, Dora soon settled well into the farm’s routine, with its regular and practised procedures and the slowly changing seasons. Almost without noticing the months passed by, and though still missing her family she found herself generally enjoying her work.

  She had been with the Moabys for over a year when, one day in early autumn, Mrs Moaby said, “Guess where we are going on Saturday. The September Fair. It’s great fun; I think you will enjoy it.”

  Dora was very excited, and she decided to look her absolute best and wear her favourite sprigged cotton dress, which had tiny rosebuds stitched onto the fabric by her mother. I will join in everything I can, she thought.

  The fair, also known as ‘Harvest Home’, was held on the village green beside the parish pump. This pump was needed because a lot of the villagers did not have running water to their cottages. As they approached Dora saw, for the first time in her life, a dancing bear. She was fascinated, but so wanted to set it free. Mrs Moaby assured her that the bear was happy and treated very well by his master, who, after all, made his living from the animal.

  Wandering around the fair and enjoying the jostling crowd of people, Dora came across the barrel organ. On wheels to make it portable, the organ grinder was turning a handle to play a series of pipes, creating a sort of mini, one-man orchestra. She joined in with some of the other children dancing around the organ. Stalls had been set up selling sweets, cake and ginger ale. There was a Punch and Judy stall, and although she was now, at the age of ten, really much too grown up for such entertainment, she still watched and laughed with all the other children.

  One boy, Paul, tall, dark-haired and a couple of years older than Dora, attached himself to her over the afternoon. He said that if they met any of his friends from his village she was to say that she was his cousin. Dora knew why he asked her to do this, as he would probably be teased by his friends if they saw them together.

  Everybody was dressed in their Sunday best, and determined to enjoy every minute of their day. Even the very old were seated at the side of the field so that they could see everything that was going on. One old woman had had a bit too much cider and was shakily singing an old country song, oblivious to anybody, tapping her feet and her stick in time. She was dressed in a long black skirt with pink and green embroidery on the front in the shape of a ‘V’. Her blouse was cream with ruffles, and her jacket black. On her head, she wore a big straw hat decorated with many real flowers, mainly roses and daisies. She was short and comfortably built, with pretty blue eyes peering brightly out of her wrinkled face. Dora thought she looked wonderful, so went over to speak to her. The old lady, whose name was Sarah, told Dora that she had lived in this village all her life and had married her first boyfriend, who was the village blacksmith. She had six children and all of them had survived; which was unusual in those days when many children died young. Apart from one daughter, who lived in the neighbouring village, they were now scattered all over the country and the world. Dora didn’t like to ask Sarah how old she was, however after a little more chat and more swigs of cider Sarah admitted that she was ninety-five.

  Paul was anxious to see more of the fair, so they bid Sarah goodbye and wished her luck. They spent the day enjoying the acrobats and the organ grinder with his charming, lively, chattering monkey dressed in red with tiny bells on its hat as it sat on top of the organ. They also watched the local men trying to climb the greasy pole. The prize for reaching the top was a leg of mutton. One young man was very determined, and after several attempts, red in the face, won the prize.

  Then it was time to watch the foot races. The principal prize was a live pig or a large cheese. Dora couldn’t stop cheering when Farmer Moaby’s eldest son, John, won the prize and picked the pig. I hope he brings it home to the farm, she thought, so we can have a pig in the garden like in Quenington. But it was not to be; Mrs Moaby set great store by her beautiful plants and flowers, and didn’t want a smelly, mucky pig anywhere near the farmhouse, so it was kept in the outhouse.

  Dora had experienced a number of psychic episodes in her short life, including the Grey Lady. Then one night at the Moaby’s Dora had a very vivid dream in which her smallest brother Joe, then aged two, fell in the stream that ran at the end of the cottage garden. She woke with a start, very disturbed and frightened.

  For a while, everything continued in its usual placid, pleasant way at the farm. But about two weeks after Dora’s dream, Mrs Moaby took her into the sitting room and said, “Sit down, dear, I want to talk to you. I have some dreadful news for you. Your brother, little Joey, has slipped into the stream and drowned. Everyone tried to save him, but it was just too late.”

  “Oh no!” gasped Dora, and dissolved into tears. She just couldn’t stop crying and desperately wanted her little brother back with the family. Of course she vividly remembered her dream, but didn’t tell anybody. Mrs Moaby cuddled her and tried to comfort her as best as she could. But it was of no help.

  Dora felt her soul shrivel with the pain of it. How could Jesus take her beloved little Joey to Heaven? How would her mother and family manage the shock and the horror and the pain? She had once asked her mother what it felt like to have children, and her mother replied, “It’s like discovering a piece of your heart that you didn’t know existed.” Dora now realised something of what her mother had meant. Dora was feeling terribly guilty; should she have done something when she had that awful dream, told her parents, told the vicar? Would it have made any difference?

  Dora was sent home the next day to be with the family, comforting and supporting each other, and to attend the funeral in the village church at Fairford. Everybody local came to the funeral, and it was dreadful to think of Joey in that tiny white coffin. Everyone’s hearts were broken.

  She stayed with her family another week and then went back to her job with the Moabys.

  Dora worked happily with the Moabys for the next four years. Then her mother and sister came to call.

  “Dora, now you are fourteen it is time for you to go into proper service,” said her mother. “We have found you a position with Lord and Lady Huxtable in Devon.” Dora was pleased, but rather scared. What an adventure, she thought to herself.

  A week later she said a tearful goodbye to the Moabys and went on her way. She had grown into a very beautiful young girl, with long, light chestnut hair, which she now wore up; clear, bright skin and amazing green eyes. She was five feet and two inches tall, with a very neat and shapely figure. She found that there was great excitement at home amongst her brothers and sisters over her new job. She was going to work as a tweeny and kitchen maid for the Huxtables at South Molton.

  Mum and her sisters helped Dora pack her clothes. Sensible shoes, a couple of skirts and blouses for occasional everyday work plus the hated starched drawers. However, most of the time she would be wearing a maid’s uniform provided by her employers. She also took her two best dresses for when she had free time, and her best necklace and brooch. Everything was packed into a big tin box, tied around with rope. The following
day she went off by horse-drawn coach from Cirencester to South Molton, ninety miles away.

  How Dora loved the journey; there was so much to see as she passed through the many villages on the way. Some were very large, with a couple of inns and lots of shops and houses. The bread and cake shops were wonderful, with fancy bread, iced cakes and all sorts of delicacies that she had never seen before. She compared them to her home village and realised that Quenington was only a tiny part of a much, much bigger world. She was fascinated when she reached the great city of Bristol. She had never seen so many people, and such crowded roads bordered by large town houses. They crossed over the River Avon and gradually the road became more countrified with ploughed red soil.

  Then she arrived at South Molton. The road to the house was up a hill, and when they entered the gates they drove down a long, winding drive which seemed to go on for ever. It was densely packed on either side by rhododendrons, which were not in flower and seemed to Dora rather menacing. Eventually she arrived at the most beautiful house she had ever seen. There were huge stone steps to the entrance, which was surrounded by a stone balustrade with large urns filled with flowers and shrubs that were in full bloom and looked very beautiful. This was the country seat of Lord and Lady Huxtable.

  The house was high on Exmoor, one thousand feet up, and Lord Huxtable had installed electricity so it was very modern for those days. He also had one of the first motor vehicles in England. Dora had never seen such an imposing mansion; she tried to count all the windows at the front but gave up after about fifty because it was time to climb the massive stone steps and into the huge entrance hall.