Mothering Sunday

by Rosie Goodwin

  ‘We’ll see about that, Sunday Small. Just remember to keep looking over your shoulder – and don’t forget . . . I know where you live!’ He shuffled away then leaving both girls badly shaken although Sunday would have died rather than admit it.

  ‘Take no notice of him, it’s all empty threats.’ She squeezed Daisy’s hand reassuringly and dragged her away. ‘Just ignore him. We’re safe from him now.’ But are we? asked a little voice in her head. Suddenly the day was spoiled, and the only thing the girls wanted to do now was to get back to the sanctuary of Whittleford Lodge.

  ‘So what’s up wi’ you pair?’ Annie asked when they arrived home early that afternoon. They had taken the carrier cart back to the house as Daisy hadn’t seemed up to walking and Annie immediately saw that there was something wrong. She glanced at Daisy, saying worriedly, ‘You’re not feelin’ bad are yer, pet?’

  ‘She’s fine, just a bit tired,’ Sunday answered for her, shooting a warning glance at Daisy. There was no point in speaking about what had happened. As far as she was concerned, Pinnegar’s vicious threats were best forgotten.

  For the rest of the day, Daisy sat huddled by the fire and Sunday knew that encountering Pinnegar had really set her back – as she pointed out, what could he do to them now? If he were to put in an appearance at Mrs Spooner’s he’d soon be sent away with a flea in his ear!

  Daisy supposed that she was right – but her fear of him was so deep-rooted that she was still severely unnerved.

  ‘Just look at those two,’ Lavinia Huntley said to Zillah. She was sitting with her feet up at her maid’s insistence in the drawing room and through the window she could see Cissie and young George chatting to each other. ‘Do you suppose we have a budding romance on our hands?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’ Zillah grinned. ‘They look well together, don’t they?’

  Lavinia nodded as she sipped at her coffee. ‘They certainly do. Cissie looks like a different girl now that she’s put on a little weight. She’s got some of her brightness back and I think we can put that down to Mrs Roundtree’s care. It looks as if Cissie is returning his clean laundry to him.’

  ‘Yes, she is.’ Zillah stood back from the window and watched as Cissie shyly passed the young man a small pile of freshly ironed clothes before skipping away. George’s eyes followed her for a time before he headed back in the direction of the stables. Zillah then turned her attention back to Lavinia to ask, ‘Is there anything else you’d like?’

  Lavinia sighed. ‘Yes, I’d like to be able to see my feet again but I don’t suppose you can help there, can you?’

  Zillah chuckled. This time her mistress’s pregnancy seemed to be going really well. She was gaining weight, there was a glow about her and Zillah prayed that this was a sign that at the end of it there would be a happy conclusion. Thankfully they saw little of Ashley these days, and even when he was at home he didn’t trouble his wife, which suited her very well.

  Strangely, all Lavinia’s misgivings about the forthcoming baby had vanished on the day she felt it quicken inside her, and she too, was now looking forward to the birth. Already the nursery, which had lain under dustsheets for so long had been prepared and the tiny clothes that she had kept – for she had not given them all away – had been washed and pressed and were ready to be worn.

  Ashley had told her to start advertising for a wet nurse and a nanny but on this Lavinia had stood her ground. She would agree to a nanny but insisted should all go well she would feed her baby herself.

  Ashley told her he found the thought of it disgusting but had given way. After all, should she finally present him with a son he would have no need of her any more. He didn’t intend to be there that much once his uncle’s lawyers had settled a down payment on his inheritance, for he would be too busy out and about enjoying himself. Admittedly, Lavinia was generous with his monthly allowance, but that would be small change compared to his uncle’s wealth and he could hardly wait. But God forbid if she should present him with another daughter! It didn’t even bear thinking about so he was trying to stay optimistic. His wife had positively blossomed during this confinement once she had got over the morning sickness, so perhaps that was a sign that she was carrying a boy this time? Please God it was so.

  It was some weeks since Lavinia had attended any meetings at the workhouse. It was not common practice for women who were enceinte to be seen in public so for now she confined her outings to visiting Mrs Spooner and the vicar’s wife, where she would spend hours playing with little Phoebe. She was an adorable baby and Lavinia couldn’t get enough of her. Often after such a visit she would wander to the three tiny graves in the orchard and try to imagine what her own baby daughters would have been like. Would they have been fair-haired and blue-eyed like her, or would they have taken after their father? It was something she would never know. The last one would be fourteen now had she lived and she still celebrated each girl’s birthday every year by laying flowers on their graves.

  ‘So are you off to visit Mrs Spooner this afternoon?’ Zillah asked then and Lavinia nodded.

  ‘Yes, I think so. You could ask George to bring the carriage around to the front at about two o’clock if you wouldn’t mind, dear? That is, if it doesn’t start to snow. It’s certainly cold enough, isn’t it? But then there is something quite magical about a white Christmas, I always think. Oh, it’s such a pleasure to visit Mrs Spooner now. I swear Sunday, Daisy and Tommy have given her a new lease of life. I do worry about Daisy though. She’s out of the workhouse now – yet she seems so subdued.’

  ‘It’s hardly any wonder, is it?’ the maid answered practically. ‘She’s only a slip of a girl and carrying a child that’s been forced on her through rape by that horrible man. All we can do is hope that she bonds with it when it’s born.’

  ‘Hmm. Well, at least now that Pinnegar’s gone, no other girls will suffer the same fate,’ Lavinia replied. ‘Apparently the new housemaster is a different kettle of fish altogether. He and his wife are living in Pinnegar’s old cottage and he’s very kind, so they say, and so is his wife. I haven’t heard what’s become of Miss Frost though – not that I have much sympathy with her. I insisted that she should be dismissed too, because of her sadistic mistreatment of the girls. She left shortly after Pinnegar.’

  ‘Well, it’s good riddance to bad rubbish so far as I’m concerned,’ Zillah sniffed. ‘She were little better than him from where I’m standing! But now to change the subject: Cook was asking this morning how many there’ll be for Christmas dinner this year?’

  ‘Ah, I meant to talk to you about that.’ Lavinia beamed. ‘Ashley informed me that he’ll be away so I thought you and I could just have it quietly together. It will save a lot of work for the staff and I’d like you to get Mrs Roundtree to tell them that they can all have the afternoon and the evening off once dinner is over. I’m sure you and I can do something light for our evening meal and then the staff can have a little do in the kitchen, or at least, those of them that want to can.’

  Zillah smiled approvingly. ‘They’ll love that. Especially Cissie. She bought some material off the rag stall in the market last week an’ she’s sewing herself a new gown. Been working on it every night, she has, and it’s coming along a fair treat. Happen she’ll want to wear that on Christmas Day.’

  ‘Then that’s settled,’ Lavinia said contentedly. The thought of a quiet Christmas with just her and Zillah was quite appealing. And so Zillah went off happily to pass on the good news.

  Chapter Thirty

  A tap on the door woke Sunday on Christmas Eve and she started awake, amazed to see that it was already getting light.

  ‘Wh-what time is it?’ she asked groggily as Daisy popped her head round the door.

  ‘I don’t know but I think it’s late,’ Daisy answered worriedly. ‘The cockerel usually wakes me up with his crowing but I didn’t hear a peep out of him this morning.’

  She shot off to wake Tommy then before going back to her own room to get dr
essed. Soon Sunday and Tommy were rushing downstairs with Daisy lumbering on behind them only to find Annie already there with the kitchen fire lit and breakfast well on the go. There was no need whatsoever for her to be there in the mornings any more, but old habits die hard and she often turned up even though Sunday was quite capable of cooking the first meal of the day.

  ‘Ah, here you are, yer sleepyheads,’ Annie teased.

  ‘Oh, Annie, I’m so sorry. We all overlay but why didn’t you wake us?’ Sunday asked as she hurried forward to help.

  ‘A little lie-in now an’ again never hurt nobody.’ Annie expertly flipped a sizzling rasher of bacon in the huge black-bottomed frying pan on the range. ‘It might be a good idea if you got the fires in the drawing room and the dining room goin’ though, Tommy, as they’ll all be down to breakfast soon,’ she suggested and he hurried away to do as he was told.

  Luckily he had become an expert at damping all the fires down at night so it never took him too long to coax them back to life each morning; thankfully, today was no exception. The girls had laid the table in preparation for breakfast the night before, so now whilst Sunday set about making a large pot of tea, Daisy took the long-handled fork and began to toast some bread on the fire. They had the house running along like a well-oiled cog now and in no time at all the meal was served. The lodgers were leaving today to spend Christmas with sons and daughters or extended family, and the atmosphere at the table was light-hearted.

  It was almost nine o’clock before the staff sat down to their own breakfast but no one was rushing today although there was a huge turkey waiting to be plucked and the stuffing to make. Annie had had the Christmas pudding and the mixture for the Christmas cake soaking in brandy for weeks and today they would be cooked too. Sunday was also going to try her hand at making some mince pies although she doubted the pastry would be half as good as Annie’s. Still, as the latter had pointed out on more than one occasion, ‘practice makes perfect’.

  ‘Eeh, I reckon this is gonna be one o’ the best Christmases this house has seen fer some long time,’ Annie remarked happily as she helped herself to another cup of tea and liberally spooned sugar into it. It was just as she liked it, well brewed and sweet. ‘You young ’un’s ’ave breathed new life into it.’

  They all smiled. It would be a special time for them too, especially for Sunday who had never known a Christmas outside the workhouse.

  ‘Right, I’d best get out and see to the animals now,’ Tommy said eventually as he rose from the table patting his full stomach contentedly. He went away whistling merrily as Daisy and Sunday set about the dirty pots but the mood was broken when Tommy burst back in some minutes later with a stricken look on his face.

  ‘Me cockerel’s dead.’ He held the poor lifeless creature up for them all to see and he was clearly distressed and shocked.

  ‘Eeh, that’s a shame, lad,’ Annie tutted. ‘But then these creatures don’t live for ever. Perhaps a fox got him?’

  ‘It weren’t no fox and he didn’t die of natural causes by the look of it. I reckon someone has broken his neck.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Daisy’s hand flew to her mouth. She knew how fond her brother was of the animals. ‘But who would do such a wicked thing?’

  ‘No one in their right mind. Happen you’re mistaken,’ Annie said calmly. ‘It’s a shame but it were only a cockerel at the end o’ the day an’ he might as well go in the pot as go to waste.’

  ‘I can’t let you cook him!’ Tommy was horrified at the thought.

  ‘An’ why not?’ Annie asked, placing her hands on her hips. ‘What’s the difference ’tween you eatin’ him to one you’ve bought from the butcher?’

  Tommy shrugged. He knew she was right but he was heartbroken. He had tended those chickens and the cockerel as if they were his children and would have loved to have got his hands on the person who had killed it.

  ‘It was probably some young ’uns out fer a lark,’ Annie concluded. ‘Soon as the town is open again after Christmas you can go an’ choose another one from the cattle market.’

  And so that was the end of that, although Tommy couldn’t shift the feeling that there was more to it. The poor bird had been left lying on top of the chicken coop like a sacrifice. Surely if it was just a group of youngsters, they would have taken it home for the pot?

  The rest of the day passed pleasantly enough. With none of the lodgers coming home that evening there was less work to do and the atmosphere was relaxed.

  On Christmas morning, bright and early, Sunday rose to get dressed. She missed the cockerel waking her but was trying not to think of the unfortunate end to which the poor bird had come. The night before, she had washed her hair and scrubbed herself from head to toe and this morning she brushed her hair until it gleamed and tied it back with the pretty blue ribbon that Mrs Spooner had bought for her and which she kept for church and special occasions. She then put on her prettiest gown, one of those that Lady Huntley had given her, and after collecting her presents she crept down to the kitchen, careful not to wake anyone. There was no reason for her friends to be up early today and Sunday wanted them to have a lie-in – but to her surprise when she got downstairs, she found Annie, Daisy and Tommy already there.

  ‘I couldn’t see the point in stayin’ at home on me own,’ Annie told her. ‘An’ me an’ Biddy usually spend Christmas Day together any road.’

  She was looking very neat and tidy today in her best gown, with jet earrings and matching choker. It was obvious that she had made a special effort for Christmas Day.

  ‘The missus an’ Jacob said they’ll join us in ’ere fer breakfast today,’ she informed them. ‘It’s not worth layin’ the dinin’-room table just for the two of ’em.’

  When Mrs Spooner and Jacob did eventually join them, Sunday was amused to see that the old lady almost outshone the baubles on the Christmas tree. There were so many rings on her fingers that she could barely bend them, and the powerful gusts of her perfume made Daisy cough. The bracelets and bangles that adorned her arms jangled merrily every time she moved, and her face was even more heavily made up than usual but Sunday was used to the sight of her now and was becoming fonder of her by the day.

  Breakfast passed quickly with lots of laughter then Mrs Spooner began to hand out the presents she had bought for each of them.

  ‘I know it’s usual to wait till after dinner,’ she beamed, ‘but I never could wait even as a child.’

  For Daisy there was a warm pair of blue woollen mittens, embroidered with a daisy on each one, and a matching scarf. Her thin face lit up when she saw them.

  ‘Ooh . . . they’re lovely!’ she cooed with delight. ‘Look – daisies, like me! These will keep me so cosy and warm.’ And she promptly wrapped the scarf about her neck and slipped the mittens on.

  Tommy opened his gift to find a sturdy pair of boots that would be perfect for wearing when working outside. He was pleased as Punch with them.

  ‘But how did you know my size?’ he asked in amazement. They were just what he needed.

  ‘Well, I’d heard you complain that your others were pinchin’ your toes so I just looked for some a bit bigger and took pot luck! Those you’re wearing are so smelly I don’t know how you can bear to put them on,’ Mrs Spooner teased him.

  Annie was just as pleased with her gift, a very pretty apron trimmed with broderie anglaise. ‘Though Lord knows when I’ll get to wear it,’ she muttered. ‘It’s far too nice to get it dirty.’

  Finally, the old woman handed Sunday her gift. It was a shawl in beautiful autumn colours.

  ‘Oh!’ The girl was so overcome that she could think of nothing to say. It would look lovely with the gowns Lady Huntley had given her and she knew that she would treasure it. ‘It . . . it’s like something the toffs might wear,’ she whispered eventually and everyone laughed.

  ‘Just wear it in the spirit it was given an’ enjoy it,’ Mrs Spooner said kindly and then Sunday hastily handed out her presents, to hide the tears in her eyes.
This is just turning out to be the best Christmas ever! she found herself thinking and couldn’t seem to stop herself from smiling.

  Even Daisy seemed more her old self that morning, which passed in a blur of laughter and good humour. The young people and Annie ate in the dining room with Mrs Spooner and her nephew for the very first time that day. The turkey was cooked to perfection, as was Annie’s sage and onion stuffing, but Sunday noticed that no one made a start on the poor cockerel. They could all still remember him too well strutting round the yard. There was also a selection of vegetables and crispy roast potatoes followed by Annie’s Christmas pudding served with brandy butter or thick creamy custard. It was the nearest thing to perfection Sunday had ever tasted.

  By the time they had finished all this it was decided that they would have to wait until teatime to try Sunday’s mince pies, for they were all too full to manage another mouthful. Mrs Spooner, Jacob and Annie retired to the drawing room then for a snooze as the young people began to clear the table.

  ‘It’s been just wonderful,’ Sunday declared as she, Daisy and Tommy washed and dried the pots, and her friends nodded in agreement although their pleasure was slightly marred by memories of Christmases past shared with their family. They were sad that those times could never come again but grateful for what they had.

  It had also been a happy day at Treetops Manor. Zillah and Lady Huntley had dined quietly together whilst the staff all enjoyed their Christmas dinner in the kitchen amongst much merriment. Mrs Roundtree was tickled to see that George sat right next to Cissie, making her cheeks flush prettily. It was actually Cissie who found the silver sixpence in her Christmas pudding and when ordered to close her eyes and make a wish, she did so before blushing even more and glancing at George through her eyelashes.

  No need to wonder what she was wishing, the housekeeper thought before turning her attention back to her mince pie, and she fervently hoped that something good would come of their meeting.