‘It was a bit of a shock, my first sight of the old lady,’ she confided with a giggle. ‘She looks like one of those china-faced dolls with the bright red cheeks you see in the toy-shop windows. and tries to talk la-di-da but every now and again she forgets. Apparently she was just a normal girl from a miner’s house in the Ford until she married her husband who was the manager at the brickworks. Lady Huntley told me about her in the carriage on the way home.’
She sighed dreamily as she remembered the carriage ride. ‘It was so wonderful,’ she told her friend who was hanging on her every word. ‘We passed the canal and so many lovely green fields I lost count. There were cows and sheep grazing in them and everywhere looked so clean once we got out of the town.’
Daisy had seen such wonders many times before but for Sunday, who had been raised in the grim confines of the workhouse, it was all new. ‘And Mrs Spooner has a dog,’ she went on. ‘Her name is Mabel and she’s a golden cocker spaniel and quite beautiful. I always wanted a dog, you know. Lady Huntley told me that Mrs Spooner has a number of cats too. I wonder if it will be up to me to care for them? I do hope so.’
‘I think you’re going to be really happy there,’ Daisy told her, pushing her own feelings aside. Every time she thought of Sunday leaving she had to blink back tears but she didn’t want her friend to lose this wonderful opportunity.
‘Well, I’m not daft and I know it’s going to be hard work,’ Sunday said. ‘The whole house is filthy from what I could see of it and has been allowed to get into a rare old state. Goodness knows how long it will take me to get it back to rights. But she did say I could go to church every Sunday morning before coming to see you and Tommy in the afternoons, so that’s something, isn’t it?’
Daisy gave a wry smile. ‘You mustn’t get worrying about me and Tommy, and if you can’t always get to see us we’ll quite understand.’
Pulling herself up onto one elbow, Sunday scowled at her. ‘Of course I’ll come,’ she whispered hotly. ‘You and Tommy are like family to me. The only family I’ve ever known, in fact!’
‘Well, we’ll see. I know we’ll both miss you dreadfully. Tommy is pining for you already.’ She grinned then. ‘You do know he worships you, don’t you?’
‘I think a lot of him too,’ Sunday answered but Daisy shook her head impatiently.
‘No – you misunderstand me. I mean he loves you! He always has.’
Sunday was flabbergasted. She had always looked upon him as the brother she had never had.
Daisy giggled. ‘Didn’t you guess?’
Sunday shook her head.
‘Well, love will strike when and where it will. That’s what our mum always used to say. Love has no respect for age or position.’ Daisy shrugged as Sunday lay back against her lumpy pillow and stared at the ceiling. ‘I think he’s loved you from the first moment he clapped eyes on you. He wants to become apprenticed to a carpenter so that he can start his own business up eventually, and knowing him as I do I’ve no doubt he’ll do it. My big brother can be a determined little devil when he sets his mind to something.’
Seeing that Sunday was frowning, she asked, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, really. It’s just that I’ve just suddenly realised I won’t be here if my mother comes looking for me.’ This had only just occurred to her but then she sighed. ‘Not that that’s likely to happen now. Perhaps she’s died? Or perhaps she never intended to come for me anyway.’
‘I’m sure she would have come if she could,’ Daisy said comfortingly, stifling a yawn. She desperately wanted to hear every single detail of Sunday’s adventure all over again, but it had been another long hard day and, before she knew it, she was fast asleep.
The next morning, as the girls took their daily exercise in the airing yard, Tommy approached the fence that divided them and after Daisy’s revelation of the night before, Sunday found herself looking at him through different eyes. Tommy had had a growth spurt over the last twelve months and was now taller than she was, a gangly youth who seemed to be all arms and legs. But somehow Sunday couldn’t imagine him as anything other than a friend. With his deep brown eyes that could change from the colour of warm treacle to almost black depending on his mood, and his thick mane of dark brown hair he looked set to be a handsome man one day but still Sunday couldn’t picture him as a suitor.
‘Daisy tells me you’ll be going on Monday,’ he whispered mournfully as they strolled up and down the fence keeping a watchful eye on the member of staff who was supervising them.
‘Yes, but I shall be back to see you and Daisy every Sunday afternoon come hell or high water,’ she promised.
He nodded. ‘Well, I just hope this woman you’re going to work for treats you right, else she’ll have me to answer to when I get out of here,’ he said self-consciously.
Sunday blushed.
‘And if you’re worried about anythin’, make sure you speak to Mrs Lockett or Lady Huntley. They’ll look out for you.’
Sunday was deeply touched at his concern and was about to reply when a voice yelled, ‘Branning – Small, get away from that fence!’
Tommy winked then strolled away to join the rest of the boys with his hands in his pockets as Sunday re-joined Daisy.
Mrs Lockett was waiting for Sunday at the entrance to the church with her baby in her arms when the workhouse children arrived there on Sunday. Ignoring Miss Frost’s forbidding expression she pulled Sunday to one side and told her, ‘Lavinia Huntley told me you’ll be going to work for Mrs Spooner tomorrow. I’m so thrilled for you and I hope it works out. But just remember I’m here for you if you should ever need me.’
Sunday was mesmerised by the baby and beamed as the tiny girl gripped one of her fingers. She really was the most beautiful baby and the girl had never seen Mrs Lockett looking so happy. She appeared to have taken to motherhood like a duck to water.
‘Mrs Spooner says I can still come to church every week so I shall still see you.’
‘Excellent.’ Mrs Lockett smiled at her warmly. ‘Now shall we go in before Miss Frost drops in a fit?’
They giggled as they hurried into the church side-by-side.
That night, as Sunday lay in her bed in the dormitory beneath the thin scratchy blanket for what she hoped would be the very last time, she had to sniff back tears. She had realised long ago that tears achieved nothing and was far too proud to show any weakness, but tonight she was choked with emotions. The workhouse was a grim, austere place but it was the only home she had ever known and the prospect of change, as well as being exciting, was also alarming. There was a big wide world out there that she had been protected from until now, up to a point. She had said her goodbyes to Tommy that morning through the wire fence in the airing yard and had been shocked to see that there were genuine tears in his eyes.
‘You take care o’ yourself now,’ he had told her gruffly and she had nodded.
‘I will, but you’re talking as if we are never going to see each other again when I shall be here to visit you both every Sunday.’
Her parting from Daisy had been no easier and the girl had clung to her as if she would never let her go. ‘Don’t forget us,’ she had begged.
‘As if I ever could,’ Sunday had responded emotionally. Then she had slipped away to the dormitory to pack the very few clothes she possessed into a bundle. She stripped the sheet and blanket from the bed, wondering what poor soul would take her place in it, then carried them downstairs and headed along the corridor to the laundry. She had almost reached the end of it when Albert Pinnegar’s voice halted her and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She had hoped she would never have to speak to him again.
‘Yes, sir?’ She faced him boldly although her stomach felt as if it was tied in a knot.
‘Step into my office.’
Sunday glanced up and down the corridor, for once in her life hoping for a sight of Miss Frost but the matron was nowhere to be seen so she reluctantly did as she was told.
‘Are you quite sure that you’re happy about this position?’ he asked, and she was so surprised that her mouth gaped open.
‘Yes, sir, I am, thank you.’
‘Hmm . . .’ He stroked his moustache as he eyed her hungrily then said, ‘I must admit that I had better things in mind for you.’
‘Really?’ Sunday was intrigued.
‘The thing is . . .’ He appeared to be choosing his words carefully and she waited patiently.
‘The thing is . . . I have found a very nice little cottage in Coton that is for sale. It would be perfect for me when I retire but in the meantime I was thinking that perhaps you could live in it and keep it clean and tidy for me. I would pay you, of course.’
I bet you would, Sunday thought but she didn’t say it. She had a fair idea of what he had in mind, for although she had led a sheltered life she had heard the workhouse women gossiping from time to time.
‘I think I’m happy with the position Lady Huntley has found for me, thank you, sir,’ she answered politely and now he scowled as he thrust a small package wrapped in brown paper and string towards her.
‘Every person who leaves the workhouse takes with them what they arrived with,’ he told her shortly. ‘These are the clothes that you were wearing when you were left on the doorstep, for what good they will do you. Sign here to say that you’ve received them.’
Sunday quickly did as she was asked then looked at him. ‘Will that be all, sir?’
‘Yes – but if you should change your mind about my proposition . . .’
‘I won’t,’ she informed him, snatching up the bundle. ‘Goodbye, sir.’
She was about to leave the office when Pinnegar suddenly shot round the desk with a speed that was quite surprising for a man of his size. He had tried the gentle approach and she had scorned him, so now he would take what he wanted.
Before she knew what was happening he had pushed her across the desk and as she opened her mouth to scream he clamped his fat hand across it whilst he fiddled with the buttons on his flies with the other.
‘I’ve tried to be nice to you,’ he gasped, red in the face. ‘But now I’m going to make a woman of you, you little bitch!’
Terror coursed through her as she tried to fight him off but she was no match for him and now she could feel his hand on the soft skin at the top of her leg as he tried to yank her drawers to one side. He was panting and Sunday felt vomit rise in her throat. His hot flesh was pressed throbbing on her skin and she closed her eyes, knowing that there was nothing more she could do to stop what was about to happen.
Then suddenly, like a miracle, there came a loud knocking on the door and Pinnegar jerked upright like a puppet on a string.
‘Stand up and not a word, do you understand,’ he hissed, ‘else some other girl will take your place later today.’ All the time he was talking he was putting his clothes back in order and, badly shaken, Sunday rose and did the same.
‘Mr Pinnegar! Lady Huntley has arrived early.’ Miss Frost’s voice reached them through the door. ‘Why is the door locked? And where is the Small girl?’
‘Ah, I locked the door to give us some privacy while I handed over her possessions,’ he answered, hurriedly going to unlock it.
Miss Frost glared at Sunday suspiciously before asking, ‘Are you ready, Small?’
Sunday was shaking so badly she feared the woman would notice but she kept her voice steady as she answered, ‘Yes, miss.’
She then sailed past the housemaster without giving him so much as a second glance and once the door had closed behind her he slammed his fist onto the desk, upsetting the inkwell, and let out a string of oaths. The little minx had got under his skin and he’d be damned if he’d rest till he had her, by fair means or foul!
‘Ah, here you are, my dear. Are you all ready to go?’ Lady Huntley asked and when Sunday nodded she smiled approvingly as she smoothed her cream gloves up her arm. ‘Good, well, all the necessary forms have been signed so we’ll be on our way, shall we?’
Miss Frost escorted them to the door. Unlike Mr Pinnegar it was a case of good riddance to bad rubbish as far as she was concerned.
‘Goodbye then, Small,’ she said as Lady Huntley led Sunday out onto the steps. ‘And good luck.’
‘Goodbye, Miss Frost,’ Sunday answered with dignity. The woman had just saved her from being raped, could she have known it, which was one thing Sunday had to be thankful to her for. Miss Frost then slammed the door so hard that it danced on its hinges.
Sunday stood for a moment staring at it, hardly able to believe what a lucky escape she had had, then turning to Lady Huntley she took a deep breath.
‘I’m ready.’ It was time to go and start her new life.
Chapter Fourteen
‘You’re very quiet, dear,’ Lady Huntley commented, as the carriage rattled along. ‘Are you feeling nervous?’
‘A little,’ the girl confessed. ‘But I shall be fine.’
Lady Huntley had no doubt about it. Sunday was a plucky young thing and she couldn’t help but admire her.
‘You could perhaps take your cap off now,’ she suggested kindly. ‘There’s no need to wear it any more if you have no wish to, and it’s such a shame to cover your glorious hair.’
That’s the first perk of being away from the workhouse, Sunday thought as she did as she was told and promptly lobbed the dratted thing out of the open carriage window. No more sore chins – hurrah. She then glanced down at the ugly uniform she was wearing. Perhaps when she had saved some of her wages she could go to the rag stall on the market and get herself something nicer to wear?
Lady Huntley, who appeared to have been able to read her thoughts, said, ‘I have a portmanteau full of clothes that I never wear any more here for you, Sunday. Miss Frost informed me that you had been taught how to sew, so perhaps you will be able to adapt some of them to fit you – just until you have time to get some new ones, of course,’ she added tactfully, knowing how proud Sunday could be.
‘Thank you, ma’am.’ Sunday blushed with excitement at the thought of wearing something other than the workhouse uniform she had worn all her life. Anything would be an improvement on that, surely? She gazed wide-eyed at all the unfamiliar places they were passing through. Never having gone further than the church in Coton or the marketplace, she felt as if a whole new world was spreading out before her and it was too much to take in.
Soon after, the coachman drew the horses to a halt in front of Mrs Spooner’s residence and helped both passengers down from the carriage. Today Lavinia was dressed in a pale lemon crinoline that was trimmed with navy blue to match the bonnet. It was adorned with lemon silk roses and Sunday was sure she had never seen anything more pretty. No doubt it had cost all she could earn in a whole year at least. Not that she begrudged Lady Huntley owning it. She had proved beyond a doubt already what a kind, generous lady she was.
‘Here we are then,’ Lady Huntley chirped cheerfully when they were standing at the bottom of the steps. Sunday was clutching the brown paper bundle that Mr Pinnegar had given her and despite the brave face she was presenting, her teeth were chattering with nerves and delayed shock following his attempted rape.
The same elderly woman that they had seen before opened the door to them. Jerking a tobacco-stained finger down the hallway, she announced, ‘Biddy’s in there. She’s expectin’ yer.’
‘Thank you.’ Lady Huntley set off in the direction she had indicated, Sunday at her side, as the coachman set down the portmanteau she had mentioned just inside the door and went back outside to the horses.
‘Ah, so yer here then.’ Mrs Spooner stared at Sunday. ‘And all ready to knuckle down and do some work, I hope?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Right then, well, while me an’ Lady Huntley ’ere have a sup o’ tea I’ll get Annie to show you where you’ll be sleeping. From now on, the main of the housework will fall to you. But Annie will continue to come in until you’ve learned how to cook.’ She then turned her a
ttention to Annie who had appeared in the doorway and told her, ‘Take the lass up to her room, would you, then you can show her round the rest of the house.’
Annie sniffed. ‘Anythin’ else yer want doin’?’ she grumbled as Sunday followed her towards the staircase.
As they climbed the stairs, the girl noticed that the banister was heavily carved from mahogany and was probably quite beautiful beneath the layers of dust. They arrived on the first-floor landing with Annie puffing and panting.
‘This is where all the lodgers sleep,’ she informed Sunday breathlessly, pointing to a number of doors that led off it. ‘You’ll be up in the servants’ quarters. Not that there’s been any servant’s ’cept me ’ere fer many a long day.’ She shambled off to a door at the very end of the long landing and when it was opened they were confronted with yet another set of steep stairs. Unlike the first flight, which had a carpet running up the centre, held in place by brass runners, these steps were bare wood and their feet echoed hollowly on them as they climbed.
‘Phew, I’m glad I don’t ’ave to come up ’ere very often,’ Annie gasped when they reached the top. ‘My poor old dicky ticker ain’t up to it any more.’ She stood for a moment getting her breath back then set off again, stopping at the second door she came to. The corridor wasn’t so long here and Sunday realised that they must be under the eaves, for the roof sloped slightly on either side of them.
‘Ah, just as I thought. There’s a bed in ’ere,’ Annie announced with satisfaction. ‘Most o’ the other rooms are full o’ junk that’s been brought up ’ere over the years. It ain’t posh admittedly but I dare say it’ll do when it’s had a bit of a clean-up.’
Sunday stood in the doorway and looked around. An iron-framed bed stood against one wall with a small table with an oil lamp on it at the side of it. On the opposite wall was a large chest of drawers and on the back of the door were a number of nails where she could hang her clothes – when I have some to hang up! she thought wryly. All she had was what she stood up in at the moment until she unpacked the items Lady Huntley had kindly given to her. She crossed the room to the window and after wiping a little circle in the grime she saw that it gave a wonderful view across open fields. There was another slightly bigger table that housed a jug and bowl beneath it and although her steps had created a cloud of dust, the girl could have wept for joy. For the first time in her whole life she would have a room all to herself!
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