Mothering Sunday

by Rosie Goodwin

  Nell instantly burst into floods of tears and began to swipe her face and her runny nose with her apron.

  ‘Oh, now come on, Nell. It’s not as if I am going away for ever – it’s only for a week. Cheer up!’ Sunday gave the girl a cuddle but that only seemed to make things worse so she hastily stepped away from her.

  ‘You look really nice, Sunday,’ Mickey told her shyly but then they heard Mrs Spooner in the hallway.

  ‘Sunny – are yer ready, gel? We do have a train to catch, you know.’

  Annie rolled her eyes. ‘Get a move on, lass,’ she said, giving her a nudge. ‘Sounds like the cab Jacob ordered yesterday is here.’

  They all trooped out into the hallway to see the party off as the driver loaded the luggage onto the cab before helping the ladies inside.

  Sunday lowered the window and leaned out to give Nell one last kiss. ‘Be good now – and don’t forget, I shall be back in the blink of an eye and I’ll bring you something nice.’ The driver swung up into his seat then and urged the horses on, and Sunday waved until Annie, Mickey and Nell were just tiny dots in the distance.

  ‘That’s it then,’ Jacob said with a grin when she closed the window. ‘We’re on our way.’

  ‘Huh! And I just hope you ain’t forgotten anything,’ grumbled Biddy.

  ‘Of course I haven’t, Aunt. I’m quite capable, you know,’ Jacob told her with a wink at Sunday.

  Mrs Spooner was even more elaborately dressed today in an enormous mauve silk crinoline with a fine purple fringed shawl about her shoulders and a hat to match. Like the dress she wore, the hat was heavily adorned with silk flowers and feathers that fluttered in the slight draught from the window, and there didn’t seem to be an inch of flesh showing that wasn’t covered in gold and precious gems. She was bound to attract more than a few curious glances, Sunday thought, but even so when she looked at the old woman she felt a rush of affection. The cab rattled along and within no time they arrived at the station, where Jacob hailed a porter to put their valises into the luggage van.

  The train was already standing at the platform and Sunday eyed it nervously. It seemed so much bigger close to, and smoke was belching out of it, filling the air with an acrid smell.

  ‘Here’s an empty carriage,’ Jacob said as they walked along the platform peering in at the windows. ‘This will do nicely.’ He helped his aunt aboard and Sunday followed apprehensively. Suddenly she was wondering if this had been such a good idea after all but it was too late to back out now so she nervously took a seat. Soon after, there was the sound of doors slamming as the stationmaster hurried along the platform. When he was sure that everything was ready the guard then raised his green flag and slowly the monster roared into life and puffed out of the station in a cloud of smoke. Within minutes they had left the town behind and slowly Sunday felt her nerves begin to unwind. Jacob kept up a constant stream of chatter, pointing out places of interest as they passed through them. Mrs Spooner was soon soothed into a snooze by the gentle rocking motion of the train and now Sunday was enchanted as she gazed at the fields full of sheep and cows and the farmers busily harvesting.

  ‘I never knew the world was so big,’ she said in awe and Jacob chuckled.

  ‘Oh, this is just a fraction of it. Wait until you go abroad. There are so many places to see: Rome, Paris, Vienna, New York to name just a few and they can all be reached by sea and rail now.’

  ‘It’s highly unlikely I’ll ever see any of those places,’ she pointed out. ‘I’m just a maid, remember?’

  ‘Ah, but a very pretty maid if you don’t mind me saying so. And you’re intelligent too. With your looks and your mind, you could marry anyone you wanted to . . . although I hope you don’t, of course.’

  Sunday glanced at him from beneath her long dark lashes but didn’t reply. She didn’t quite know how to, if truth be told, so instead she settled back in her seat to enjoy the rest of her journey.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  When they stepped down from their carriage at Euston station, the smoke from the trains had risen to form a fog high overhead in the rafters, and porters were rushing about with trolleys as passengers issued orders at them.

  ‘Stay close. If you lose sight of us we’ll never find you in this crowd,’ Mrs Spooner advised as Jacob summoned one of the porters to fetch their belongings from the luggage van. Sunday didn’t need to be told twice. She shrank as close into the old lady’s side as she dared, feeling completely out of her depth. Jacob and the porter reappeared soon after and they picked their way towards the exit. Sunday had thought market day back at home was busy – but it was nothing compared to this. A huge church reared up over the way, reaching into the sky, and horse-drawn carriages were clattering across the highway nose to tail. Jacob, however, seemed totally unfazed by it all. He had stepped into the road, Sunday was sure at risk of his life, and hailed a cab in no time. The driver quickly jumped down from his seat to load their luggage onto the hold at the back then once Jacob had given him the name of their hotel in Westminster they clambered inside and set off.

  ‘Phew! I wonder when this was last cleaned out?’ Mrs Spooner remarked as she gazed with distaste at the grubby straw on the floor, but Sunday was too intent on gazing from the window to notice. Now that she was here she was keen to see as many of the sights as she could.

  ‘The driver will be taking us along The Strand to Trafalgar Square and then down Whitehall, to the Houses of Parliament,’ Jacob informed them. ‘It won’t take long.’

  Sunday gazed out, drinking it all in before they passed mighty Charing Cross station and then turned left along Whitehall. When Big Ben came into view, a tingle of excitement coursed through her. They bowled past into Parliament Square and on down the Embankment, turning off and heading down a wide street to their hotel. ‘Everywhere looks much more impressive at night,’ Jacob informed her. ‘I thought we might go for a stroll after dinner if you’re not too tired.’

  ‘Just so long as you keep to the gas-lit thoroughfares,’ his aunt warned him. ‘There’s places here where they’d cut your throat for sixpence and you have to beware of pickpockets an’ all.’

  Jacob winked at Sunday. ‘Yes, I know, Aunt. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of venturing anywhere that wasn’t safe. Would you like to come too?’

  ‘Would I hell as like!’ Mrs Spooner snorted. ‘I want a nice hot dinner and an early night after comin’ all this way. I’ll do a bit o’ sightseein’ tomorrow.’

  When they arrived at the Belgravia Hotel, Sunday was amazed to see two gentlemen in very plush red and gold uniforms standing either side of the impressive entrance. They rushed down the steps to help Mrs Spooner and Sunday alight from the carriage the instant it stopped, as a porter hurried forward to collect their luggage. The foyer they were shown into took her breath away and she stood speechless, gazing about as Jacob went to the desk to announce their arrival.

  ‘We’re on the first floor,’ he told his aunt and she nodded her approval as a porter led them towards a lift. Sunday had never been in one before and was a little nervous when the iron gates clanged shut, but she enjoyed the experience all the same. They emerged onto a long landing. A luxurious carpet ran all along the centre of it, and gilt-framed pictures and heavy mirrors were set at regular intervals along the wall. Once again Sunday began to feel out of her depth but Jacob and Mrs Spooner appeared perfectly at ease. They might have been used to such surroundings every day of the week from the way they behaved.

  The porter who had shown them upstairs stopped at a door, telling Jacob, ‘This is your room, sir. The ladies are in the next two.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Jacob reached into his pocket and dropped some coins into the young man’s hand. The latter then moved on to the next room which was Mrs Spooner’s. She disappeared inside and Sunday was led to her room; she was taken aback to find that her bag was already there and a young maid was unpacking it.

  ‘Oh really, you don’t need to do that. I can do it myself,’ Sunday told
her, deeply embarrassed as the young woman shook out Sunday’s best gown and hung it in the armoire.

  ‘S’all right, miss. This is wot I’m paid to do,’ the girl told her with a cheeky grin. She had a curious twang to her voice and Sunday guessed that she must be London born and bred. Hastily she fumbled in her bag for some coins, and when the girl was done and made to leave she dropped them into her hand and thanked her. Sunday giggled to herself, wondering what the maid would have thought had she known she was unpacking for another maid.

  In her new clothes, in London and being waited on for the first time in her life, Sunday Small felt like a princess! She then turned her attention to the room and wandered about touching all the beautiful fabrics reverently. This was a far cry from the comfortable but basic room she had at Mrs Spooner’s, and for a moment she was saddened as she thought of how much Daisy would have loved it. The bed had a thick feather mattress that she sank into when she sat on the side of it and Sunday wished that it was bedtime already, although her stomach was beginning to tell her that it was approaching dinnertime. They had eaten the basket of food that Annie had packed for them for lunch on the train, but that was a long time ago and she was hungry again. Since living at Whittleford Lodge she had become used to eating good meals and she had filled out considerably.

  To her delight, Sunday found that a door in the corner led to her very own bathroom and she promised herself that later that evening she would bathe in there, but for now she knew that she ought to go and call on Mrs Spooner. She might be being treated like royalty but she was still expected to cater to the old lady’s needs – and would do so willingly. After having a hasty swill in the sink in her bathroom she then tidied her hair and slipped next door to Mrs Spooner’s room and tapped on the door.

  ‘Come in!’

  Sunday found her sitting in a chair by the window enjoying the view. From here they could see all the way across the surrounding rooftops to the River Thames. It was late afternoon and the light was fast fading from the day so she was making the most of it. Jacob was there too, sitting in another chair reading a newspaper and he smiled at her as she entered.

  ‘My room is lovely, thank you so much for bringing me,’ Sunday told Mrs Spooner.

  Biddy smiled. ‘You’ve earned a treat, lass. Thanks to you the lodging house is thriving again. In fact, I’ve been thinking of extending it some time in the future but let’s enjoy our break first, eh?’

  ‘Aunt was just saying that she’d prefer to dine in her room tonight,’ Jacob informed her then. ‘I’ve said that we’d be happy to stay with her but she says we’re welcome to go down to the dining room if we wish.’

  ‘Oh no, I wouldn’t think of leaving you Mrs Spooner,’ Sunday protested. ‘I’d be quite happy to eat in here too.’

  ‘In that case I’ll ring for a maid and ask for a menu.’

  Once they had chosen and placed their order, they sat back to relax for a while. Mrs Spooner’s room was considerably bigger than Sunday’s with a table and four chairs and a small sofa placed against one wall . . . Sunday must have dozed off, for she was embarrassed when Jacob gently shook her arm to tell her, ‘Dinner has arrived. Come on, sleepyhead.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ She felt her cheeks burn as she hastily jumped up. ‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I didn’t realise how tired I was.’

  She saw that the table had been laid with a crisp white cloth and silver cutlery, and a young maid was taking various covered silver dishes from a trolley and placing them in the centre of it. It all smelled delicious and her stomach growled in anticipation making her feel even more embarrassed. Mrs Spooner was already seated.

  ‘Come on.’ Jacob gallantly pulled a chair out for Sunday. He then shook out a white linen napkin and laid it across her lap before giving a little bow. ‘There we are, madam. Would you like me to serve you?’

  ‘Oh, sit down and don’t be so daft,’ she told him. ‘I’ll serve you. That’s what I’m here for.’

  The meal was a happy affair and Jacob and Sunday chatted about all the places they wanted to visit as Mrs Spooner listened benignly. They tucked into a thick pea soup followed by perfectly cooked lamb chops, crispy roast potatoes and a selection of vegetables, and ended the meal with a helping of superb chocolate gâteau covered in thick cream that even Annie couldn’t have bettered. Sunday felt so full she was sure she would burst.

  ‘Oh, that was wonderful, thank you.’ She sighed in blissful satisfaction. Shall I clear all these dirty pots back onto the trolley now?’ she asked innocently.

  Mrs Spooner chortled with laughter. ‘No, you will not, my girl. That’s the maid’s job. While we’re here you’re to do nothing except help me out a bit when I need it. So I suggest you help me get ready for bed then you two young things can go and have an explore. Don’t go too far though. They get some right terrible fogs in London and they come down so quickly you can barely see your hand in front of you. I remember me an’ Mr Spooner got lost in one once when we were strolling back to our hotel from the theatre.’

  ‘We’ll be fine,’ Jacob assured her, then to Sunday, ‘I’ll leave you with Aunt Biddy then I’ll meet you downstairs in the foyer in half an hour. Make sure you wrap up warmly. It gets chilly at night now.’

  Sunday happily did as she was told, and when Mrs Spooner was tucked up in bed with a penny romance novel she hurried downstairs. Biddy always passed the books onto Sunday now when she had finished reading them and the girl thoroughly enjoyed them. Jacob was waiting for her and he took her elbow and led her towards the door, saying, ‘You’re looking very nice. Now, where would you like to go?’

  As they emerged into the dark city streets, Sunday found herself blushing. She had never stepped out alone at night with a young man before and felt suddenly shy.

  ‘Oh er . . . let’s just go for a walk,’ she suggested, very conscious of his hand on her elbow.

  ‘In that case we’ll head for the Mall.’ He smiled down at her and she suddenly realised how tall he was. ‘I’m sure you’d like to see Buckingham Palace.’

  ‘I would,’ she told him as they strode beneath the flickering gas lamps. After visiting the palace, they hopped aboard an omnibus and Sunday gazed happily out of the window. Mrs Lockett had always been very keen for her pupils to have a glimpse of the towns and cities beyond their home town, and Sunday had loved looking at pictures of London. Just as Jacob had told her, the River Thames did look completely different by night. The gas lights flickering on the surface of the water lent it a romantic air and above them the dark velvet sky was dotted with twinkling stars.

  ‘We’ll visit Westminster Abbey and St Paul’s Cathedral tomorrow if you like,’ Jacob suggested and she nodded eagerly. Her happy mood diminished somewhat when they walked back to the hotel and she saw the ragged beggars sleeping in alleyways, huddled together for warmth. At home, these people might have been in the workhouse. Here, they lived on the streets.

  A man with a white stick suddenly staggered out of the shadows, holding out a tin mug. ‘Can yer spare a penny fer a poor blind man, little lady?’ he whispered pathetically and Sunday immediately began to rummage in her reticule but Jacob hurried her on.

  ‘You mustn’t,’ he warned. ‘He wasn’t really blind, otherwise how would he have known you were a young lady?’

  ‘Oh!’ Sunday was shocked but knew that Jacob must be right.

  Sure enough, the supposedly blind man began to curse them and Jacob tugged her away, out of earshot.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Sunday mumbled.

  ‘Don’t be, you weren’t to know,’ he said warmly. ‘But you have to have your wits about you here. This place is teeming with pickpockets and ruffians.’

  Sunday glanced about nervously. The flickering street lamps were casting dancing shadows across the pavements and suddenly she wished she were back in the hotel. She’d just realised how utterly exhausted she was too, so she wasn’t sorry when Jacob steered her safely home.

  Up on the first floor she thanked
Jacob for an enjoyable evening and wished him good night, then on impulse she decided to look in on Mrs Spooner before she herself retired, in case she needed anything.

  She tapped on the old lady’s door, waited then let herself in, and instantly she saw that her employer was fast asleep, propped up against the pillows in her bed. But this was Mrs Spooner as she had never seen her before. The old lady’s wig was discarded on the dressing table, and with her wispy grey hair floating about her head and without her heavy layers of paint and powder she looked suddenly very old and fragile. Sunday had often helped her to undress but Biddy had always insisted on having complete privacy afterwards, seeing to the rest of her toilette herself. Now the girl saw why. Mrs Spooner was understandably reluctant to let anyone see her like this, so not wishing to upset her she quickly turned about and tiptoed from the room.

  The incident did bring home to Sunday, however, that Mrs Spooner might be even older than she had thought and she found herself wondering what would happen to herself, Nell and Mickey if their beloved employer should die. But then, feeling utterly selfish and guilty for having such thoughts, she let herself into her room, revelling in the sheer luxury of it. For now, she was just going to enjoy herself. The future would see to itself.

  Chapter Forty

  The following morning after Sunday had helped Mrs Spooner to get dressed in yet another outrageous gown, mint-green this time, and enjoying a hearty breakfast in the hotel dining room the three of them set off on a sightseeing tour of London in a horse-drawn carriage. Sunday made the most of every minute. She was aware that she might never come to the capital again and didn’t intend to miss a single thing.

  On the steps of St Paul’s Cathedral was an old woman selling birdseed, and Jacob bought a bag so Sunday could feed the cluster of pigeons flapping about their feet. Another old lady was selling posies of violets, and Jacob bought one for his aunt and one for Sunday, much to their delight. It was the very first bunch of flowers Sunday had ever been presented with and she only wished that they could last for ever.