A Brighter Tomorrow

by Maggie Ford

  ‘I don’t want you interfering in our lives,’ she said sharply. ‘There was no sign of you when we needed you most, you and Dad—’

  ‘That wasn’t my fault, Ellie,’ he cut in. ‘I wasn’t to know he’d walked off. You can’t blame me.’

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ she said. ‘But I’d rather sort me own life out, that’s all.’

  There was more to it than that. Her brother at nineteen was so like his dad, and today she had seen that resemblance in its full force. One day, as far as she could see, he would be like Dad in every respect: selfish, overbearing, violent. There was already hate in her heart towards her father, and a need to avenge herself as well as Mum. She didn’t want to feel the same way about Charlie. The further he was away from her, the better.

  ‘I’m glad you come,’ she said, drawing up her thin frame with dignity. ‘But me and Dora are all right.’

  He was fidgeting awkwardly. ‘I’ll be off then. I’ll keep in touch, let yer know where I am time to time. I can’t tell yer ’ow upset I feel about Mum. I can ’ardly believe she’s gone, it’s such an ’orrible shock. She was such an ’ard worker and an ’elp to all of us. I’m goin’ ter miss her terribly – straight I am.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, flat-voiced. He could be as upset as he liked.

  ‘Orright,’ he said, and bending his six-foot frame took hold of Dora, who’d let go of him, and kissed her on the top of her head. He made to do the same with Ellie, but she moved quickly away.

  He straightened up, looking slightly offended, not understanding why she was being so cold towards him.

  ‘Cheerio then,’ he said gruffly and, receiving her stiff response, allowed himself to be let out of the main door, a sobered, dejected man.

  Where he went Ellie had no idea. He had asked where Mum’s grave was and she’d told him, but when asked where he was staying, all he had said was, ‘Around.’

  It gave the impression that it could be ages before she’d set eyes on him again. So what? Dad was her real quarry. One day she would catch up with him and make his life an eternal misery. She didn’t know how, but she would think of something when finally she found him.

  One thing she did know: by the time she did find their father, she’d be a lady. She had already decided upon that as she went back to her kitchen duties, Dora going back upstairs with Mrs Lowe, and Doctor Lowe returning to his surgery.

  * * *

  Whether it was to do with Charlie’s belligerent attitude to her being a mere scullery maid or not, the following afternoon young Florrie came into the kitchen while she was up to her eyes in rapidly cooling washing-up water and spoke in whispers to Mrs Jenkins.

  Next thing Ellie heard was Cook’s strident voice. ‘Ellie, leave that, love. You’re wanted upstairs. The master wishes to have a quick word with you. He’s in his study. You know where that is?’

  ‘No,’ Ellie admitted. The only part of the house she knew was up the back stairs to the attic where she slept. Dora had seen more of the place than her. ‘Where is his study?’

  ‘Up the main stairs, turn right along the landing and it’s the far door. Make sure to knock and wait to be called in. Understand that, girl? Don’t go in until you’re told to.’

  ‘What’s he want?’ Ellie enquired.

  ‘Never mind what he wants,’ Cook said sharply. ‘Get your apron off, wipe your hands thoroughly, take off your cap and tidy your hair, and then get straight up there. Hurry up now.’

  Doing as she was told, her long hair, now released from its mob cap, tied neatly back with a bit of ribbon she kept in her skirt pocket, Ellie mounted the stairs, each step slower than the last, each with growing trepidation.

  What did her employer want? Was it to tell her that her services were no longer needed? It could only be that after the way Charlie had behaved. And what about Dora? Did he intend to sack her too? After so short a time here would he even give them a reference? And where would they find work, two young girls with no skills? Even washing-up jobs like she’d been doing weren’t easy to come by.

  One question after another ran through her mind with each reluctant step. By the time she was outside the study door, at the dim end of the passage, her heart was thumping enough to make her feel sick. How was she going to break the news to Dora?

  Well, this was it. If she was going to be given her marching orders, then she’d refuse to demean herself by hesitantly tapping, creeping in to hang her head and bob a curtsey. If she was to be told to go, then Doctor Lowe would see her as life had conditioned her, holding her head up and giving as good as she got.

  She rapped on the door with her knuckles, louder perhaps than she had intended. For a moment there was silence, then Doctor Lowe’s voice sounded, requesting she come in. Responding, she closed the door behind her and walked up to his desk. She was surprised to see that he was smiling up at her. Oh well, she thought, it’s going to be done in good grace at least.

  For all that, an apology was called for. ‘I’m sorry me brother was so rude,’ she began, hardly having reached the desk. ‘He was just worried—’

  ‘No need to apologize,’ Doctor Lowe cut in with a brief lift of his hand. He was still smiling. Why was he smiling if he was about to dismiss her?

  ‘I have asked to see you,’ he hurried on as though her face had given away her thoughts, ‘because I need to have a little talk with you. Do you like working here, my dear?’

  ‘Do it matter?’ she shot back at him. What did she have to lose? If he was about to get rid of her, it was best to come out with it and have done without this messing about trying to let her down lightly. It would add up to the same thing. As one who believed in straight talking, she was becoming impatient.

  ‘Just tell me to go and let’s get it over with!’ she said.

  ‘Go?’ He looked suddenly bewildered, the small eyes in the podgy features going a little blank. ‘No one is asking you to go.’

  ‘Then why did you want to see me if it wasn’t for that?’

  ‘Simply to ask how you feel about working here. I wondered, perhaps, if your brother might have put ideas into your head and given you second thoughts about working here?’

  It was she who was now bewildered. There was a momentary notion that he was inviting her to leave of her own accord, saving him the painful duty. ‘I thought…’ she began.

  ‘That I intended to sack you?’ he finished for her. ‘Because of the incident with your brother?’

  Ellie nodded. ‘He can be a bit… outspoken,’ she said, choosing a different word from the one that had first come to mind.

  ‘As you are, my dear.’ He waved away her instant protest. ‘Yes, you are. It is what I admire about you, child. My daughter, whom my wife and I miss so much and grieve for, was always too ready to give in to everything. An exceptionally placid child but with no real spirit, I regret to say, though I loved her dearly.’

  His gaze dropped away from Ellie’s face, slanting sideways along some invisible, horizontal line, as if he were entering a world of his own.

  ‘There were times when I wanted to shake some vigour or courage into her – times when I would have rejoiced to see my darling girl fight back when hurt or wronged. Perhaps that was why she so easily succumbed to her failing health. If only she had fought, had refused to let herself be taken from us, she might still…’

  The rest of his words fell away into a shuddering sigh, his obvious grief seeming to be getting the better of him. But, recovering with what to Ellie appeared to be a great effort, he turned his gaze back to her.

  ‘I take it you have gathered how very like you are to my daughter in looks, age, height, colouring?’ He said it almost belligerently, as if the apparent resemblance was her fault; but moments later his tone grew sad. ‘I must admit that I was taken aback that first time I saw you, but I realize now, you are very different in character and spirit. You are as I would have given thanks to find her.’

  Again his gaze wandered. ‘It’s very strange. You so resemble my
sweet Millicent in looks; yet your sister, who does not physically remind me of her despite being like you in looks, is like her in manner – meek, quiet, easily controlled. You will never allow yourself to be controlled by anyone, my dear.’

  He was right there. Ellie lifted her chin. ‘But I’m not your daughter, am I, Doctor Lowe?’ she reminded him, momentarily forgetting herself.

  The remark drew his eyes back to her. For a moment she thought he was going to bellow at her to get out, he looked so deeply stunned. But the expression faded and he nodded, letting out his breath in a small, silent sigh of defeat.

  ‘You were partially correct when you feared for your job here. My wife has been pleading with me to dismiss you. She says she finds it painful to look on you – that you remind her so of our daughter.’

  ‘If I’m ter leave, what about me sister? If I’ve got to go, she’s leaving with me. She won’t ’ave her stay ’ere without me.’

  He smiled at her forthrightness, his brief weakness over his daughter put aside. ‘I have no intention whatsoever of dispensing with your services. I requested to see you to inform you that if you are happy here, I will seek a replacement scullery maid so that you may take up the duty of second housemaid. This house is quite large. Young Florrie is grossly overworked and she would welcome extra help.’

  ‘But what if your wife insists on me going?’

  Doctor Lowe drew himself up in his chair. ‘I am the master in this house and have made up my mind. All I need to know is if you are happy working here. Now you may go, my dear, and tell Florrie the good news.’

  Without waiting to be thanked, he leaned over and took up a pen to dip it into the inkwell nestling on its stand to his right, proceeding to write something down on the papers that lay before him, thus dismissing her.

  Ellie had no intention of thanking him. She was aware of what he was about, and what he was about needed no humble demonstration of gratitude from her. Indeed, though she saw opportunities of making the most of this odd resemblance Doctor Lowe saw in her to his darling Millicent, she was also made vaguely uncomfortable by it. It seemed to verge on the obsessive if not the morbid; moreover it held an element of something unnatural – that was the only word she could find for it.

  She thought suddenly of her father as she made her way downstairs, hoping not to meet anyone coming up. The way her father had carried on with her – that too had been unnatural. She loathed him for his vileness, his utter disregard of her feelings. Every time she thought of it, it was like a slimy worm inside her stomach, slowly writhing its way upwards to eat at her heart – a sick feeling whenever she thought of him and what he used to do.

  What if Doctor Lowe had unnatural thoughts of her too, in a different way, seeing his daughter in her, wanting to turn her into the little girl he had loved so much? Yet he was essentially a nice man, was probably not even aware of the strangeness in what he’d said to her. It made her cringe as much as did the memory of her father, but Doctor Lowe was a likeable man whereas her father certainly wasn’t – a man she wanted with all her heart to see brought down.

  In her mind’s eye as she hurried back down the stairs she visualized her father grovelling before her in the most degrading situation – crawling in the filthy gutter covered in mud and horse piddle and the slime of other men’s spittle, begging her for mercy as she stood over him in her revenge for all he’d done to her and Mum.

  She had no idea how this would come about, but imagining it took away the strange feeling Doctor Lowe’s words had given her.

  Five

  Ellie’s eyes glowed with excitement as she told Florrie and Mrs Jenkins her news about being promoted to second housemaid under Florrie.

  ‘Well good for you, dearie,’ came Mrs Jenkins’s strident voice. ‘I just hope you appreciate it.’

  ‘Yes, of course I do.’

  ‘But don’t you start putting on airs, miss, or you’ll be back here in the kitchen working for me.’

  The way she said that might have sounded ungracious and harsh, but she was genuinely pleased for the girl. All the while Ellie had been here – working like a little Trojan, she had to admit – not once had she ever seen that child smile, and it was about time she did. She’d had a raw deal, losing her mother like that, the brother disappearing and then the father walking out leaving the two young and vulnerable children entirely alone.

  Now the brother had come here throwing his weight about. A lout he’d looked for all his flashy clothes, bought, she expected, with winnings from some gambling, but nothing permanent enough to see the girls in decent lodgings. Doctor Lowe had seen him off the premises, thank God, and perhaps, she hoped, the brother would never come back. Whether they’d ever see their father again was a different matter entirely, but the girls had a good home here, so long as they both behaved and worked hard.

  She didn’t know the rights of it, but something similar had happened to her when she’d been around young Ellie’s age. She’d had two brothers as well, both younger than her, but they hadn’t been as fortunate as Ellie and Dora in being taken in by a kind gentleman like Doctor Lowe.

  Why he’d done it she’d no idea except that his heart must have been in the right place, seriously moved by the youngsters’ plight. True, you can’t save the whole world, Nora Jenkins smiled to herself, but it was good to have one kind soul to help you out when you most needed it.

  There’d been no one to show her kindness or take her in when her father had died and her mother had become totally unhinged, admitted to a lunatic asylum. She and her two brothers had been separated, the boys sent to an orphanage and she taken into what was termed a ‘haven’ for girls where she had worked her little heart out. She’d never seen her brothers again.

  Even today, at fifty-six, she often wondered where they’d ended up, what they looked like now and if they were still alive even, whether they’d married, raised families, perhaps now had grandchildren whom she would never see. At these times her heart would ache with questions and longing.

  She’d never married. She had gone into service – not an exceptionally pretty child, yet she had come to the attention of one of her employer’s sons. Falling pregnant, she’d been dismissed as if it was she who’d enticed him. She hadn’t. She had been as scared as a rabbit each time he came near her, frightening her into secrecy and not admitting it was he who’d put her in the family way.

  Of course they took his word against hers. Dismissed, she had looked for shelter. It had been winter. She had slipped on ice, fallen heavily and lost the baby. She was never sure whether she had pined or not, half of her in grief, the other half relieved and the guilt of feeling that relief plaguing her for years.

  She’d found other employment, doing exactly what young Ellie had been doing, but, coming under the tuition of an excellent head cook, had learned her trade well. But she had kept away from men all her life, that single experience having been enough to make her never ever want to marry.

  ‘You should be deeply grateful to Doctor Lowe,’ she told Ellie sternly. ‘You’ve been here only a few weeks and on no recommendation whatsoever. So don’t you dare let him down or you’ll have me to reckon with.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Ellie said.

  ‘If you do, and find yourself back here, I won’t be as lenient with you as I’ve been so far. Of course, this leaves me with no help in the kitchen, so at times you might still be needed here until I’m found a replacement for you. Beats me why he’s come to such an odd decision. I just hope you’re grateful, that’s all.’

  ‘I am grateful,’ Ellie assured her. Mrs Jenkins had no idea why he should offer this unexpected promotion, but she did and she couldn’t help smiling to herself. This was the first step on her ladder and she saw no wrong in using her employer to achieve her aim of improving herself so much that when she finally met her father again, she would be in control. The very thought brought a glow to her cheeks.

  * * *

  Mary Lowe strode about her drawing room, turning every
now and again to confront her husband sitting quietly in one of the comfortable armchairs.

  He wanted to appear relaxed, but Mary’s pacing was disturbing his mind. She seemed almost frantic.

  ‘Why?’ She paused and turned again to face him, her plump body held rigid. Well-fleshed as she was, her loose, biscuit-coloured afternoon gown of lace and chiffon gave her a regal appearance, adding to her display of indignation and betrayal.

  ‘Why, Bertram? How could you promote that girl when you know full well how I feel about her? This interest in her is becoming an obsession with you. We both grieve for our darling girl. Millicent was our life. But you can’t bring her back. This girl has gained a hold over you and she knows it. She is playing it to the full. What does she expect to achieve?’

  ‘I don’t think she expects to achieve anything. And why are you so much against her when you are so drawn to keeping her sister on?’

  ‘Because I find Dora a sweet, even-tempered and willing girl. She has no idea what that sister of hers is up to.’

  ‘I am not aware she is up to anything, Mary.’

  ‘I am! I do not like her. I can never like her. I believe with all my heart that she is playing on this weakness of yours.’

  ‘That is an unkind thing to say, Mary. She wouldn’t stoop to—’

  ‘Of course she would! She’s clever. She is using your grief in order to better herself. She is using you, Bertram. She is playing you for a fool.’

  Bertram stood up suddenly. ‘Thank you so much, my dear, for those kind sentiments!’ he said with acid sarcasm.