by Kitty Neale
Charles was in no mood for this and said impatiently, ‘I doubt that, and anyway, she will need professional care.’
‘Can I at least come to see her?’
Charles looked at his daughter, but the appeal in her eyes failed to move him. ‘We’ve already talked about this, and I don’t have time to go over it again. I have a lot to do today, not least trying to find domestic staff, so please finish your breakfast and leave me in peace.’
‘But …’
‘Not another word,’ he said firmly.
Constance pushed her plate forward, her scrambled eggs untouched, but Charles hardly noticed. He was just pleased that she’d left and after drinking a second cup of tea he withdrew to his study.
Once he’d obtained the telephone number from directory enquiries, Charles rang the domestic agency. Ethel and Mary would be leaving on Monday morning, so he only had five days to find replacements. He outlined what he wanted and insisted on impeccable references. The agency was very efficient and helpful, promising that suitable candidates who were available to start work on Monday would be sent for him to interview tomorrow. A time was arranged and the call ended with Charles in a slightly better mood.
He checked his watch. With only one consultancy appointment at eleven, it left the rest of the day clear. He would go to visit Hettie later and after that he’d drive to Battersea to see Jessica, confident that this time he’d find her at home.
At mid-morning that day, Albie was looking at cars. With two grand coming his way soon, he intended to buy one, albeit secondhand. Though bucking against it at first, he was now chuffed that he’d agreed to marry Constance. He was marrying into a wealthy family and could see lots of advantages coming his way. Not only that, he’d realised that though he’d be a married man, it didn’t mean he had to be a faithful one.
‘Let me see inside this one,’ he said to the car dealer, who looked a smarmy git, but that didn’t bother Alfie as he was sure that nobody could put one over on him.
‘At this price, you won’t find any better,’ the man told him, then went on to point out all the advantages of owning a five-year-old Vauxhall.
Albie slid into the driver’s seat, his eyes taking in the interior. It wasn’t bad, but he wanted something that looked a bit flashier, a car that would make heads turn. He climbed out again and then pursed his lips. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he told the dealer.
‘I’ve a few other models I can show you.’
‘Thanks, mate, but not today. Maybe some other time,’ Albie replied, and walked away from the lot. There were other things he wanted to look at, new togs, shoes, and a nice watch. He began to whistle the tune to Herman’s Hermits’ chart hit ‘I’m Into Something Good’ as he headed for Clapham Junction.
On painkillers, Jessica drifted in and out of sleep, but that afternoon she came to fully and found Eric sitting by the side of the bed. Remembering that he had rescued her, she whispered, ‘Oh, Eric, I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘You don’t have to. I’m just glad I got you out of there. I’d heard that your dad was violent, but bloody hell, I didn’t realise it was that bad.’
‘That’s the worst beating he’s ever given me.’
‘But why? Why did he do that to you?’
Jessica gathered her thoughts, her mind drifting back to the past. ‘My parents made me leave school at fourteen and sent me out to work, doing cleaning jobs. They made me fib about my age. I’d start work at six in the morning doing office cleaning, and then go on to private houses. At night it would be cleaning in factories. I’d be worn out by then, and they were the hardest jobs. They took every penny I earned.’
‘Bloody hell. That’s like slave labour. Why didn’t you refuse?’
‘’Cos if I did I’d get a beating. My dad knocked all the spunk out of me, at least he thought he had, but when I was sixteen I somehow found the nerve to run away. I dreaded him finding me, but he never did, and I never went back to Hackney again … well … until yesterday.’
‘So what made you go back?’
Jessica looked at Eric and decided to tell the truth. ‘I was looking for you.’
Eric grinned and then said, ‘Yeah, I know. A bloke in the pub told me you’d been in asking about me.’
‘If you knew, why ask?’
‘I’m just teasing, but I shouldn’t. You still look rough and maybe you should see a doctor.’
‘No,’ Jessica protested, struggling to sit up. ‘I’m all right, just a bit battered and bruised, that’s all.’
‘I’m not so sure and I think you should get checked out.’
‘Stop worrying, I’m fine,’ Jessica told him. To change the conversation she looked around the small room and asked, ‘Is this where you live?’
‘Yeah. This is my mate’s house and he lets me use this room when I’m on shore leave.’
‘And where is this house?’
‘We’re in Battersea Park Road, not that far from your place, but if you’re thinking of going home, forget it. You ain’t up to it yet and need looking after.’
‘I’m not going to argue,’ Jessica said as she was hit by a wave of pain. ‘Can I have another pill?’
‘Not for another hour. We don’t want you overdosing. Your face is still swollen from where it’s been used as a punchbag, but tell me, are your lips sore?’
‘No, why?’
‘I just wanted to make sure,’ Eric said, then leaned forward to kiss her.
Jessica loved the feel of his lips on hers, and if he still wanted her she had come to a decision. Of course it was only fair that she told Charles – after all, in his own way, he’d been good to her. She would miss the comfort of his money, and her lovely flat, but she wouldn’t miss having to please him in bed. From now on, the only man she wanted was Eric.
Ethel and Mary were full of plans for the flat, talking about bedding, curtaining and other things to make it their own. Ethel had her savings, and Mary had a good few pounds tucked away too, so money wasn’t a problem. Ethel had already begun to sort out her belongings, not that that there was much, just her clothes and a few ornaments. Everything she and Fred owned had been destroyed by a bomb, and as the small flat that came with the job had been furnished, they hadn’t needed to replace anything. She picked up a framed photograph of Fred, the only one she had, and smiled softly. He’d been a good-looking man. Albie took after him with his blond hair and blue eyes, but their personalities were poles apart. Fred had been quiet, steady and honest, whereas Albie was a bit of a rogue. Not that it didn’t stop her missing her grandson and his cheeky grin. Her expression saddened, but then Mary called out to ask her if she wanted a cup of tea. Ethel said yes, and after returning the photo to its place she went back to the kitchen.
‘I reckon we should sneak out again tomorrow or on Friday,’ Mary said. ‘We talked about bedding and we don’t want to move into our flat without any.’
‘Yeah, good idea. We’ll wait until Mr Burton Blake leaves in the morning, and then get a bus to the market. That’s another thing, we’ll need someone to move our stuff for us.’
‘I ain’t got much, just a small case and of course our new bedding.’
‘I’ve got a fair-sized case, and a box of ornaments, but that’s all.’
‘Would it fit into a taxi?’
Ethel pursed her lips. ‘Yeah, probably, but how are we going to find one?’
‘How about having a word with Miss Constance. She’s sure to know.’
‘Good idea. Pop upstairs and ask her to come and see me.’
Though her legs were improving, Ethel pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. With Mrs Burton Blake in hospital there’d been no demands for fancy cakes and fancy dinner menus. Constance didn’t eat much, and when her father was home he didn’t scrutinise the menus as his wife had. Whoever took over from her as cook would have an easier time of it, and even if Mrs Burton Blake recovered enough to return home, Ethel doubted she’d be the same indomitable woman who, drunk or sober, d
emanded nothing but perfection from the kitchen.
‘Hello, Ethel,’ Constance greeted her as she came downstairs. ‘Mary said you want to talk to me.’
‘Yes, Miss,’ Ethel said, going on to tell her about the need for transport on Monday.
‘I can ring a taxi company and arrange for you to be picked up, but wish I didn’t have to. I’m going to miss you so much.’
‘Thank you, and I’m gonna miss you too. I’ll give you our address and you can come to see us at any time.’
‘Now that I’m not at college, and until I marry Albie, I’ve certainly got plenty of time on my hands. Thank you, Ethel, I’d love to visit you.’
‘Good, but another thing. We need bedding for our flat so when your father leaves in the morning, Mary and me are going shopping.’
‘He won’t be going out in the morning. He’s got to interview candidates to replace you.’
‘Bugger it,’ Mary said, then placed a hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry, Miss.’
‘There’s no need to apologise, and I think it’s about time you both stopped calling me Miss, or Miss Constance. From now on, it’s just Constance.’
‘All right, Miss,’ Mary said, and giggled. ‘I think it’s gonna take a bit of getting used to.’
Constance smiled and then said, ‘You could go shopping on Friday morning.’
‘Yeah, let’s do that, Ethel,’ Mary enthused.
‘All right, but if your father isn’t going out again, will you warn us?’
‘Of course,’ Constance agreed.
‘Thanks, Miss … I mean Constance,’ Ethel said, rising to her feet. ‘I’d best start to prepare dinner for you and your father.’
‘I’m going to miss your cooking, Ethel, especially your Coronation Chicken.’
‘I’ll give you the recipe and once you marry Albie you can make it for him.’
‘Ethel, as I can’t even boil an egg, I think Coronation Chicken is a bit ambitious.’
‘My Dora’s a good cook, love, and you’ll learn a lot from her.’
‘Why don’t you get on with your daughter? Is it something to do with why Albie doesn’t want to see you any more?’
‘Yes, but it’s family business and I don’t want to talk about it. Now if you don’t mind, Miss, I’d best get on,’ Ethel said abruptly.
Constance looked saddened, but said as she walked towards the stairs, ‘All right, I’ll leave you to it.’
When the door at the top of the stairs closed, Ethel glared at Mary and asked, ‘What are you looking at me like that for?’
‘You were a bit harsh with her and all that talk about it being family business.’
‘Yeah, I know, but it’s a sore subject.’
‘But she’s gonna be marrying into your family soon so maybe it is her business.’
‘Mary, shut up about it,’ Ethel snapped. She couldn’t face telling Constance the reason why her daughter and grandson had disowned her – couldn’t face seeing the look of disgust on her face. Desolate, she began to prepare the vegetables, but then from behind she felt arms wrap around her waist.
‘Don’t be sad,’ Mary said. ‘You’ve still got me.’
‘Yes, I have,’ Ethel replied, her mood lifting a little, ‘and I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
‘You won’t ’ave to,’ Mary assured her.
Ethel hoped it was true, that Mary wouldn’t leave her, but she was a realist and knew that nothing lasted forever. For now, though, she could look forward to moving into their new flat and making it their own.
Chapter 13
Charles had begun the interviews on Thursday morning, but after seeing the first two women he was not only annoyed but bewildered. He thought the women lacked deference, and they made it clear that the hours were not acceptable. He pointed out the benefit of accommodation, a one-bedroom flat, but though one found that interesting, both of them expected at least one day off a week. He conducted another interview and found the next candidate to be as disappointing as the first two.
‘You can’t expect me to work from before eight in the morning until after seven at night,’ the woman said.
‘You don’t work all those hours. You’d have time off between preparing meals.’
‘Yeah, I suppose that’s something, but I’d want a day off a week, and better pay.’
Charles had run out of patience and said curtly, ‘In that case, I won’t be offering you the position.’
The woman rose to her feet and, before walking out of the room, said, ‘Even if you’d offered me the job I’d ’ave told you to stick it.’
Charles sat forward in his chair to look at the list of candidates on his desk. There was just one woman left, and if she was as bad as the others this was going to be a waste of time. When his study door opened he looked up to see Constance, holding a tea tray.
‘I thought you might like some refreshments,’ she said, walking forward to place the tray on his desk. ‘How are the interviews going?’
‘Not very well. I’ve seen three women and none of them were suitable. They don’t like the hours. No doubt I’ll have the same problem with finding a suitable cleaner.’
Constance poured him a cup of tea, added milk from the dainty jug and then said, ‘If the long hours are the problem, why don’t you employ two cleaners who won’t have to live in. One to work in the mornings, the other in the afternoon.’
‘That isn’t the answer. It would mean double the pay. Now leave me in peace for ten minutes and then send in the last women applying for the cook’s position.’
Constance acquiesced and, while sipping his tea, Charles decided that his daughter might have come up with a solution, at least as far as a cleaner was concerned. If he employed a girl from seven until two who would clean the house and serve breakfast and lunch if required, he’d only need another girl to serve dinner. Surely there’d be a woman who only wanted to work part-time, perhaps from seven-thirty for dinner service, until around nine-thirty to wash up after they’d eaten. The combined hours would be the same, therefore it wouldn’t cost more.
With that idea in mind Charles rang the domestic agency again, pleased to be told that they had a few women who only wanted part-time work on their books. With that problem solved, Charles was ready to interview the next candidate for cook, and when a slim, rather timid-looking woman came in to see him, he hoped she’d be suitable.
Fifteen minutes later, as the interview came to an end, Charles quickly scanned her references, and, sure that the agency would have checked their authenticity, he said, ‘Miss Pearson, I’ll ask my daughter to take you downstairs to see the accommodation, and if you are happy with it I’ll be pleased to offer you the position, starting on Monday.’
‘I’m sure it will be fine, sir,’ the woman said quietly.
Charles was pleased with his choice. Miss Pearson was a spinster who had spent the last few years nursing her mother until she died. She was then asked to leave the home they had lived in, and as she wasn’t named on the tenancy, she had no choice. Prior to nursing her mother she had worked as a cook in a small hotel, and as she hadn’t balked at the hours, Charles found her ideal.
Rita Pearson followed the young lady down to the basement where she saw a short, plump woman sitting with her feet up beside the fire.
‘Miss Pearson, this is Ethel, our cook. She’s retiring soon and if you are happy with the flat, you’ll be replacing her.’
Rita inwardly smiled. If this Ethel had time to sit with her feet up, the job couldn’t be overly taxing. ‘Nice to meet you,’ she said pleasantly.
‘Yeah, you too, love.’
‘Ethel, do you mind if I show Miss Pearson your flat?’
‘Of course I don’t.’
Rita didn’t think the woman had any choice in the matter, and was surprised that the daughter of the house had asked for permission. She followed her from the warm and cosy kitchen to a door that led to a small living room and a double bedroom, pleasantly surprised to be shown a bathr
oom and toilet too. ‘Is it furnished?’ she asked.
‘Yes, but if you want to bring your own things, I’m sure my father won’t mind.’
Rita looked at the old but good-quality mahogany furniture that was far superior to the cheap and ugly furniture in her mother’s home. She had no qualms about leaving it behind and said, ‘Thank you, but this will be fine.’
‘Righto,’ Constance said, ‘In that case, I’ll take you back upstairs to see my father.’
Ethel still had her feet up and asked, ‘Are you happy with the flat?’
‘Yes, thank you, it’s very nice.’
‘Well, I hope you’ll be happy here.’
Rita thanked her, and followed Constance back upstairs to her father’s study. Mr Burton Blake was a lot more formal than his daughter and she’d yet to meet his wife. Rita hoped she’d be pleasant. She’d had a tyrannical mother and didn’t want to deal with another of that ilk.
Constance knocked on the study door and when told to enter, Rita followed her in. ‘Miss Pearson is happy with the accommodation, Daddy.’
‘Good. Now give me five minutes then bring me the first candidate for the cleaning job.’
As soon as Constance had left the room, Rita stood with her head lowered to appear meek. She only looked up when he spoke again, saying, ‘Sit down, Miss Pearson.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘I think we covered everything in the interview, but I should tell you that as my wife is in hospital at the moment, there will only be myself and my daughter to cook for. My wife, when she is home, likes to entertain, but in the meantime I’m usually only at home for breakfast and dinner, though my daughter may want a little something for lunch.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that your wife is unwell and hope it isn’t anything serious.’
‘She had a stroke, but we are hoping for signs of a recovery. Now, do you have any questions?’
‘Just a couple. Firstly about the times you like your meals served, and secondly, how do I order the food shopping?’
‘Breakfast is at eight, lunch is around two, and dinner at eight in the evening. As far as I know our food is delivered, and further supplies are ordered at the same time. Ethel should have placed orders as usual, but I’ll ask my daughter to ensure it’s been done for this week and then you can take over.’
