Mothering Sunday

by Rosie Goodwin

  ‘I see.’ Lady Huntley stared at her and Sunday had the feeling that she could see right into her soul. ‘And are you happy there?’

  Sunday lowered her eyes and mumbled, ‘It’s all right, I suppose.’

  ‘I sense there’s more to this than you’re letting on,’ Lady Huntley said. ‘Do they mistreat you?’

  ‘Oh no, nothing like that,’ Sunday told her hastily. ‘It’s just . . .’ She paused, thinking how best to explain it. ‘Mr and Mrs Barnes aren’t the nicest of people, and the son . . . well, he’s a brute, to be honest. Only today he told me he would do me the honour of marrying me – although I am only a pauper bastard from the workhouse!’

  Lady Huntley’s nostrils flared. ‘How dare he say such a thing! I hope you put him in his place.’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ Sunday assured her. ‘But it made me realise that I can’t stay there now. I shall start to look around for a new position just as soon as I’m able.’

  ‘There will be no need for that,’ Lady Huntley answered firmly. ‘Because I have the perfect post right here for you. Mrs Roundtree has informed me that one of our maids will be leaving at the end of the month so I shall need to replace her. Would you be interested in the post?’

  Sunday stared at her, hardly able to believe her luck. After Mrs Spooner she couldn’t think of anyone she would sooner work for – and surely she would be safer from Pinnegar when living at Treetops Manor than she had been at the lodge? Even he wouldn’t dare to stalk her here. There were always so many of the staff about and he would be afraid of being seen.

  ‘I’d be very interested,’ she chirped as Zillah looked on with a broad smile on her face. ‘But I won’t tell the Barneses that I’m leaving until nearer the time, if you don’t mind. I think they’d make things difficult for me if they knew.’

  ‘That’s settled then,’ Lady Huntley said with a smile. ‘Before you go, you can see Mrs Roundtree and ask her to measure you for your uniform. She can have it all ready for you then and you’ll have a room right next to Cissie’s.’

  Sunday had to stop herself from clapping her hands with delight and in that moment she realised just how unhappy she had been at the farm. She did feel slightly guilty at the thought of leaving Mrs Barnes, who was undoubtedly very ill, but decided she would tell them the week before she was leaving so that they had time to find a replacement to care for her.

  Lady Huntley took her hand and patted it, clearly as happy as she was about the thought of her joining them at Treetops Manor, and it was then that Sunday said tentatively, ‘I was so sorry to hear about baby Stephen, ma’am. He was a grand little boy.’

  ‘Yes, he was.’ Lavinia’s eyes were suddenly full of tears but she smiled bravely and went on, ‘But I consider I was very lucky to have him, if only for a short time. I never had that privilege with my daughters and, as I learned long ago, life has to go on.’

  Sunday was about to change the subject, reluctant to cause the dear woman any more pain, when Lady Huntley said, ‘Did you know that Tommy has returned to Mrs Spooner’s?’

  Sunday’s mouth gaped with shock before she whispered, ‘No.’

  ‘Yes, indeed. He turned up shortly after Christmas, so Mrs Spooner was telling me when she visited last week. And what a change there is in him. He’s an apprentice to the carpenter in the town now and doing very well, by all accounts.’

  Sunday’s heart raced as she thought of him. He had always been so kind and so protective of her and Daisy, even when they had been in the workhouse. It was nice to hear that he was doing so well for himself.

  ‘He is planning to rent a little cottage in Coton eventually, but until then he’s staying at Mrs Spooner’s.’

  ‘And have they had any more problems with Mr Pinnegar?’ Sunday wanted to know.

  Lady Huntley shook her head. ‘Apparently not. After you left, everything died down and they haven’t had any incidents at all – although word has it that the ghastly man is making quite a few enemies with this new money-loaning scheme of his. He wants to be careful because some of the men he’s mixing with would cut their own grandmother’s throat for sixpence!’ Lavinia’s face had become quite animated.

  Sunday didn’t much care what happened to him. Even now, just the mention of his name could bring her out in goose bumps.

  ‘On a happier note, Mrs Spooner informed me that Jacob and the young lady he’s recently been stepping out with are becoming rather close.’ Lady Huntley’s eyes twinkled. ‘Ellie is a lovely lass and I have a feeling they’ll become engaged before too much longer.’

  Sunday was genuinely pleased to hear it. She had been very fond of Jacob but not in a romantic way so the knowledge that he was seriously courting would ease her guilt.

  ‘And Mrs Spooner?’ she asked then.

  ‘Oh, the usual winter coughs and colds but she’s holding her own,’ Lady Huntley chuckled. ‘I’m beginning to think that our dear Biddy will live for ever.’

  ‘I hope she does,’ Sunday grinned. ‘Please send them all my love. But I ought to be off now. It will be dark in no time and I promised Cissie I would see her again before I go.’ She refrained from saying that she was meeting her in Stephen’s nursery. ‘Thank you so much for offering me a job here. I promise I shall work hard for you.’

  ‘Lady Huntley grinned. ‘Not too hard, I hope. Shall I tell Mrs Roundtree to expect you to start on the first of March? And don’t forget to let her measure you for your new uniform before you leave.’

  ‘Yes, please. And I won’t forget. Goodbye for now, Lady Huntley. Goodbye, Zillah.’

  Zillah saw her to the door and unexpectedly planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘Bye, pet. I’ll see you soon.’ She looked almost as happy about the idea of Sunday working there as Sunday herself did and the girl headed for the nursery with a warm glow in the pit of her stomach. Once again it looked like her luck was about to change for the better.

  Her happiness evaporated like mist when she entered the nursery to find Cissie diligently folding Stephen’s baby clothes and packing them away in brown paper in trunks that would be carted off to the attic, probably never to see daylight again.

  The nursery was a sad, empty place without a baby in it. His shawl was flung across the back of a chair and the tiny blanket in his crib was turned back, just as it had been the last time he slept in it. The fire had long since died out; cold ashes had spilled out onto the hearth and Cissie wept as she went about collecting up his things. They still smelled of milk and baby and it broke her heart. The mistress was unlikely to ever bear another child. Her final chance to be a mother had died with Stephen.

  ‘It’s so sad, isn’t it?’ Sunday whispered. ‘Lady Huntley was so very happy with her little son.’

  Cissie wiped her eyes as Sunday began to stroke some of the exquisite baby clothes.

  ‘Yes it is, poor soul. Seems she were never destined to be a mother.’

  Then absent-mindedly fondling a pretty lacy shawl, Sunday lifted the mood again when she told Cissie about her job offer. Her friend was delighted.

  ‘Why, that’s the best news I could have had.’ She stopped what she was doing for a moment to give Sunday a sisterly hug. ‘Just think, we’ll get to see each other every day then, and you can help me plan for me weddin’.’

  ‘Here, you’d better pack this.’ Sunday handed her the shawl, wondering why she had a strange tingling feeling as she did so. ‘But now I’d better get down and see the housekeeper before I leave. Lady Huntley says I’ve to be measured for a uniform.’

  ‘You’ll love working here,’ Cissie promised her. ‘We get treated very well.’

  The girls said goodbye for the time being then and Sunday headed for the kitchen again in search of Mrs Roundtree. Lady Huntley had already sent Zillah to tell her that Sunday would be coming to work there, and so the kindly woman was expecting her. She whipped her off to the sewing room where she seemed to measure every inch of her.

  ‘I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping before you go,’ she off
ered, and took her up to a sparsely furnished but spotlessly clean room right next door to Cissie’s. To Sunday, who had been sleeping on a straw mattress on the floor in a freezing attic, it looked like heaven.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ she said happily.

  ‘Hmm, well I dare say there’ll be some late-night chinwags going on if your mate is right next door,’ Mrs Roundtree said shrewdly, ‘but just so long as it doesn’t affect your work and you don’t disturb anyone, I’ll turn a blind eye or rather ear to that.’

  They made their way back downstairs and after saying goodbye to George, Sunday set off back to the farm, feeling a great deal happier. Bill can behave as badly as he likes from now on, she thought to herself, because I won’t have to put up with it for much longer.

  It was almost fully dark by the time she arrived back at the farm, and Selah Barnes started on her straight away.

  ‘You’ve took yer time, ain’t yer?’ she whinged. ‘The men are starvin’. Get some tea on the go.’

  ‘When I’ve changed my clothes I will,’ Sunday answered boldly. She didn’t even care if they sacked her now. She could always sneak back and hide out with Mrs Spooner for a couple of weeks until she took up her new position. She would get to see Tommy again then . . .

  Even the draughty cold attic couldn’t dampen her spirits that late afternoon and after lighting the candle she began to change out of her best clothes, humming happily to herself. She was standing there in her petticoats when she suddenly had the feeling that someone was watching her. Whirling about, she was horrified to see Bill’s head sticking above the top of the ladder.

  ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded angrily, snatching up her dress to cover her modesty.

  He licked his thick lips and grinned. ‘Now don’t get goin’ all coy on me,’ he teased. ‘After all, once we’re wed I’ll see it all anyway.’

  ‘I told you – I’m not ready to marry anyone,’ Sunday sputtered indignantly. ‘Now go away this minute!’

  With a chuckle he clattered down the ladder leaving Sunday feeling very vulnerable indeed. Why hadn’t his mother stopped him from climbing up there? Selah had known she was getting changed. And what if he were to do it again? With shaking fingers, she hastily drew her work dress on and went to prepare the tea, ignoring Bill’s hungry eyes as best she could. Thank goodness I’ll be leaving soon, she thought, because who knew what he might attempt next?

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  The next two weeks were a nightmare. Sunday had no way of blocking the entrance to the attic so she slept little and kept waking to check that Bill wasn’t climbing the ladder to join her. She knew that if he did, she could scream – but also guessed that neither the farmer nor his wife would come to her aid. If she married their son, they would have a built-in full-time skivvy for life – so they were not going to stop him from doing whatever it took to make her agree to wed him, were they?

  Lack of sleep made her feel dull and listless so when there was a tap on the door one wild windy night just as she was serving up the supper, she took little notice although she had never known the Barnes family to have visitors before. Bill went to answer it.

  And then she heard a voice that she had never forgotten – and slamming the dish containing the bacon and leek pie onto the draining board, she raced across the room and pushed Bill aside.

  ‘Tommy! Oh, Tommy, I thought I’d never see you again!’ She was shocked at the change in him. He was even more handsome than she had remembered and seemed so much older somehow.

  Bill was glaring at the young man on the step. ‘Who the bloody hell is this then?’ he demanded.

  ‘He’s a friend,’ Sunday said, as Bill made to shove her back into the room. ‘And I haven’t seen him for a long time so I want to have a word with him.’

  ‘Not in my house yer won’t,’ the missus shouted from her seat at the side of the fire. ‘Tell him to clear off. I told you before, we don’t want strangers comin’ round here! An’ you’ve got to dish the dinner up, Girl.’

  ‘Dish it up yourself,’ Sunday retaliated. ‘If I can’t invite Tommy inside then we’ll go and talk in the barn.’ With that she stepped out into the cold night and, taking Tommy’s hand, she led him across the yard through a number of indignantly squawking chickens and into the shelter of the barn.

  It was hard to make out his features in the gloom but she could sense him towering over her and her heart began to hammer.

  ‘Sorry if I’ve got you into bother coming here, but it’s so wonderful to see you again, Sunday,’ he said, and even his voice sounded different now too. More grown up somehow.

  ‘Oh, don’t get worrying about them. They’re horrible, the whole lot of them,’ she fumed.

  ‘So why are you here then if they treat you like that?’

  She could hear the concern in his voice and it touched her. ‘I won’t be for much longer but they don’t know it yet,’ she confided and she then went on to tell him of her new position at Treetops Manor.

  ‘But why ever did you leave Mrs Spooner’s in the first place?’

  She lowered her head. ‘Because while Mr Pinnegar knew I was there he would never have given any of us any peace,’ she explained. And then she said something that she had never dared to voice. ‘And because I still wonder if he didn’t have something to do with Daisy’s death. Oh, Tommy, I know she was at her lowest ebb but I still find it hard to believe that she would have taken her own life or been clumsy enough to fall into the canal.’

  ‘I’ve thought the same,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Trouble is, we have no proof. If I had and I knew it was him, I’d kill him with my bare hands. I’m just so sorry I couldn’t protect you or Daisy.’

  He reached out to her then and without thinking she leaned against him, loving the feel of his arms as they slid around her and the clean, manly smell of him; he smelled of wood and soap.

  ‘I’m sorry I ran off as I did,’ he sighed. ‘But I needed time away to think things through and sort myself out. Ever since our parents died I wanted to be my sister’s protector, and when she was being used by Pinnegar, I didn’t even notice, Sunday. And when she got with child and then drowned, I asked myself what kind of brother I was. Useless! I felt that I’d let her down.’

  ‘But you didn’t,’ Sunday objected with her head tucked beneath his chin.

  ‘I think I know that now, but I didn’t then.’

  Their conversation was stopped from going any further when the barn door was suddenly pushed open and Bill appeared, bearing an oil lamp. The light fell on them stood close together and his mouth twisted.

  ‘Mam says yer to get yer arse inside right now,’ he said to Sunday. ‘An’ what are you doin’ wi’ this feller? Yer betrothed to me, in case yer’d forgotten!’

  ‘I most certainly am not.’ Sunday stepped away from Tommy and stood hands on hips, glaring at him. ‘I’ve already told you at least a dozen times that I’ll never marry you, so when are you going to get it through your thick head?’

  ‘We’ll see about that.’ Bill then turned his attention to Tommy and ordered him, ‘Get off my land afore I call the coppers to yer.’

  ‘For doing what? Since when has visiting a friend been an offence?’ But Tommy began to move towards the door all the same, not wishing to make things worse for Sunday. ‘I’ll be at Mrs Spooner’s should you need me,’ he told her and with a final hard stare at Bill he strode away, to be swallowed up by the darkness.

  Sunday was so humiliated and angry that she placed her hands on Bill’s chest and pushed him out of the way with a strength she hadn’t known she possessed before storming back into the kitchen.

  ‘That’ll be the last time yer invite one o’ yer fancy men back here else you’ll find yerself out on yer arse, Girl,’ Mrs Barnes railed at her and suddenly something in Sunday snapped.

  ‘That would suit me just fine,’ she retaliated. ‘You can get some other mug to run around after you because I shall be out of here first thing in the morn
ing.’ With that she ran up to the attic and began to ram her belongings into a bag.

  Very slowly her anger subsided as she listened to the conversation grumble on downstairs. She knew that they were calling her all the names under the sun but she didn’t care. She couldn’t wait to be away from the place and with her itchy blankets wrapped tightly about her to ward off the cold she sat whiling away the hours and praying for daylight to come.

  The sound of someone clattering about the kitchen early the next morning made her start and she realised that at some point during the early hours of the morning she must have fallen into an exhausted doze. This is it, she told herself resolutely, and lifting the two bags she had arrived with she started down the ladder. They could get their own damn breakfasts. She was off!

  ‘And where do yer think you’re off to in such a hurry?’ Mrs Barnes demanded as she reached the bottom of the ladder.

  ‘I told you last night I was leaving.’ Sunday’s chin jutted defiantly as the woman surveyed her with a sly look in her eyes.

  ‘You ain’t goin’ nowhere till yer’ve give me me pearls back, yer little thief, else I’ll call the coppers.’

  ‘What?’ Sunday’s mouth dropped open. ‘I haven’t got your pearls. You know I haven’t!’

  ‘Well, they’ve gone missin’ an’ who else could ’ave taken ’em, eh? Bill, check her bags!’

  Before Sunday could stop him Bill had snatched her bags from her and tipped the contents all over the floor.

  ‘But I never . . .’ Her voice trailed away as her eyes settled on the pearls lying on the fancy baby shawl. She was so shocked that she was momentarily struck dumb. And then it hit her. Bill must have crept up the ladder and placed them in her bag when she had dozed off. Even so, it wasn’t the pearls that her eyes were fastened on but the shawl . . . as it finally struck her why the little garment had seemed so familiar. She felt as if she had had all the breath knocked out of her body as Mrs Barnes carried on ranting.