Rose smiled. ‘My, she must have made quite an impression.’ She turned back to the door. ‘Come on let’s get this cup of tea, I’m dying here.’
The creaking of the stairs let Joyce and her uncle know they were on their way down. The aroma of cooking wafted up to greet them.
Rose sniffed the air. ‘Something smells nice.’
‘It’s probably the meat and potato pie that Joyce said she’d made earlier.’
Rose licked her lips. ‘I hope there’s enough to go round because I’m starving.’
‘There should be.’
The girls jumped and looked up and down the stairs but couldn’t see Joyce anywhere.
Rose blushed. ‘Where are you?’
Joyce giggled. ‘I’m right behind you.’ She stepped out of her bedroom on the first floor. ‘Are your rooms all right? I know they’re small but…’
Annie nodded. ‘Don’t worry, we’re grateful to you and your uncle for letting us stay.’
Joyce nodded. ‘And I’m grateful to have you here, I’ve missed the company. Right let’s go down and have that cuppa and I’ll check on dinner.’
Rose yawned. ‘Is there anything we can do to help?’
Joyce laughed. ‘No, thank you, you’ve had a long day. I’ll get the tea and you can make yourself comfortable in the sitting room.’
A loud snore greeted them at the bottom of the stairs.
Rose giggled. ‘Maybe we should have our tea in the kitchen with you.’
‘Perhaps you’re right.’
The girls followed their friend to the front room doorway.
Joyce peered in, sighing; she spied the lit cigarette in between her uncle’s sausage fingers.
Annie and Rose held their breath as they watched Joyce tiptoe into the room and expertly remove it.
Scowling, she turned and strode back towards them, pinching the cigarette end between the tips of her fingers and thumb. ‘He’s going to end up burning this house down.’ Joyce marched down to the end of the hall and into the kitchen. Turning on the tap, she doused the cigarette under the running water. A scrubbed wooden table sat in the centre of the kitchen, surrounded by cupboards and a range cooker. Pans hung off a kitchen pulley maid above the table. Cooking aromas filled the space.
Annie wanted to ask questions, but wasn’t sure if she should.
Joyce put the kettle on top of the range again. ‘So are you both going to be looking for work or are you here on holiday?’ She spooned some tea leaves into a pot.
Annie’s stomach churned when she thought about it. Her dream terrified her. ‘I’m definitely going to visit the theatres and see what work I can get.’ She grinned. ‘I can’t wait to write to my mother and tell her I’m singing in a theatre. It’s so exciting.’
Rose giggled at Annie’s words. ‘Slow down, you’re getting over-excited.’
Joyce peered over her shoulder at her. ‘Where are you aiming for?’
Annie frowned. ‘If I’m honest, I don’t know.’
Joyce laughed. ‘If you head for Shaftesbury Avenue there are a couple of theatres there, and more in and around The Strand.’ She concentrated on pouring the boiled water into a teapot. The water immediately turned light brown in colour. She stirred the water with a teaspoon, causing a whirlpool. ‘What about you, Rose, are you looking for work?’
Rose’s lips tightened. ‘I don’t particularly want to, but I suppose I should.’
‘There’s a waitress job going where I work, if you’re interested.’
‘Hmm, maybe, it depends on how long we’re going to be here for because I’d like to spend some time just wandering around London before I think about getting a job.’
Joyce added a splash of milk into the china cups before pouring the tea into them. ‘Well, think about it because everything costs money.’
Annie frowned. ‘My ma gave me some money to keep me going for a little while so I’m happy to pay for my keep, but I have no idea how much that should be.’
Joyce smiled. ‘Let’s just wait and see how things go.’
Rose glanced around her, avoiding them both. ‘The pie smells lovely. Are you the cook at the café?’
Joyce shook her head. ‘I wish, but the owner cooks all the food and it’s all right but it could be better.’
Annie picked up her cup and took a sip of the hot liquid. ‘Have you asked the owner about doing it? You always were a good cook. My ma was only saying so a couple of days ago.’
‘That’s very kind of her.’ Joyce’s lips thinned. ‘I’d have to go into domestic service and cook for a family but even then, I have no references so I need someone to take a chance on me, but that’s not likely to happen.’ She paused and opened the oven door, the heat momentarily taking her breath away. ‘I need to get this pie onto the dining table before my uncle starts shouting.’
Rose picked up a tray. ‘We can help.’ She placed the cups onto it. ‘Do you have any more trays?’
Joyce collected two more from a cupboard and handed one to Annie. ‘If you could take the plates and crockery that would be helpful and I’ll bring the food.’
A few minutes later they were all sitting on carver chairs at a large oak table silently eating the meal Joyce had prepared. Annie’s eyes widened as she looked around. She guessed her whole house would fit in this room alone. The green tiles set in the marble fire surround and hearth dominated the fireplace at one end of the room. A companion set and an empty black coal scuttle were set neatly to one side, while the poker was propped up against the marble. A couple of black leather wingback chairs sat each side of it, with a sofa straddled between the two. A gramophone stood on top of a sideboard next to a silver tray, which was home to a whisky decanter and glasses. Near the dining table was a large oak dresser filled with fine gold-rimmed china.
‘Mr Bradshaw, you have a lovely home.’ Annie frowned as she peered at the window. Why were there no curtains? She studied it for a moment before turning to look at the other window in the room, and that also had no curtains.
Arthur watched Annie looking around the room. ‘I worked hard for it.’
Annie pulled her attention back to Arthur. ‘Of course.’ She picked up her knife and fork and started to cut into her meat and potato pie. Her eyes were drawn back to the window. The curtain pelmet was still in place, but no curtain. She shook her head and went back to her meal. Annie finished her first mouthful of the meat and potato pie and was gathering some more to put on to her fork. ‘This is lovely, Joyce. Thank you.’
Arthur Bradshaw glared and tutted before shovelling another forkful into his mouth.
Rose looked up and smiled at Joyce. ‘This pastry almost melts in the mouth.’ She peered across the table at her uncle. ‘Doesn’t it, Mr Bradshaw?’
‘I hope you two aren’t going to talk at every meal time.’ Arthur put his knife and fork down on the side of his plate. ‘We’re used to silence while we eat, that way we get to enjoy our food. Isn’t that right, Joyce?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Joyce gave the girls an anxious look. ‘It’s not their fault. I hadn’t told them you like to eat in silence.’
‘We, Joyce, we.’ Arthur put another forkful of pie in his mouth.
Joyce shrugged but didn’t say a word.
They finished eating the meal in silence, none of them wanting to upset Arthur.
Annie couldn’t help but make comparisons to the noisy meal times around the kitchen table back home. Her throat tightened. Would they all be sitting round the table looking at her empty chair and missing her as she was missing them? ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll help with the washing up and then I’ll take myself off to bed. It’s been a long day.’
Rose patted her hand. ‘Take yourself up and I’ll do the washing up.’
Annie nodded. ‘If you’re sure you don’t mind.’ She pushed back her chair and stood up. ‘I’ll take the plates to the kitchen. Thank you, Joyce, it was a lovely meal.’ She stacked the plates on top of each other. ‘It’s lovely to meet you, Mr Bradshaw,
and thank you for allowing us to stay in your home.’
Arthur scowled at Annie. ‘As long as it doesn’t interfere with Joyce looking after me, and you’re both paying your way, that’s fine by me. But if you bring trouble or police to my door it’ll be a very different story.’
Fear gripped the pit of Annie’s stomach. ‘Yes, sir, neither of us would ever do that.’
‘Well, don’t say you haven’t been warned. I won’t take no nonsense from any of you.’
Joyce’s eyes flitted from each of the girls to her uncle. ‘Everything will be fine. Annie and Rose wouldn’t dream of bringing the police to your door – or anybody else if it comes to that.’
Arthur glared at Joyce but remained silent. The tension was tangible.
Annie decided it was a good time to make her escape and turned on her heels. She ran up the stairs as though the devil himself was after her and was glad to shut her bedroom door behind her. She sank down onto the edge of the bed; she needed to write to her mother to let her know she had arrived safely. Maybe mentioning Uncle Arthur wouldn’t be a good idea, she didn’t want to worry her mother. She glanced around the small room and wondered what her sister was doing. Her throat tightened. There was no doubt in her mind she was going to miss their bedtime chats.
*
Annie lay in bed staring at the off-white ceiling; sleep evading her as she concentrated on the unfamiliar sounds, attempting to work out what they were. The strange creaks and thuds seemed to be coming from inside the house. A couple of times she had sat upright, pulling the coarse grey blanket under her chin. Trying to ignore it scratching at her skin, she’d gripped it with both hands. The creaking of the floorboards had stopped. Was someone at her bedroom door? The house was silent.
‘This is ridiculous.’ Annie flung back the blankets and wandered over to the window. The floorboards were rough under her bare feet. She pulled one of the curtains back a little and peered around it, not wanting London to see her in her nightdress. It was dark outside but the horses’ hooves and the clattering of cartwheels didn’t stop. Cars were still spluttering along the road. She smiled as a dog barked nearby. She looked up into the thick inky blackness of the sky, but there were no stars. A wave of homesickness flooded her. She wondered if Margaret was asleep, or whether she was missing her as much as Annie felt alone at that moment in time.
A light rap on her bedroom door startled Annie. She quickly jumped back into bed, yelping in pain as she caught her leg in her haste. The bed creaked under her as she rubbed her leg and straightened the covers around her. Crossing her fingers and hoping it was Rose or Joyce, she called out, ‘Come in.’
The squeaking of the door handle screamed out in the silence as it turned.
Rose popped her head around the open door. ‘It’s only me, can I come in?’ She ran her fingers through her dishevelled blonde hair.
Annie breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Of course.’ She slipped her hand under the covers and rubbed her leg, before moving them both to one side and patting the bed.
Rose gently pushed the door shut. ‘I can’t sleep.’ She lifted her blue dressing gown a touch as she walked on tiptoes over to the bed and sat on the edge. ‘It’s strange isn’t it? I mean what’s with all the noises in and outside the house?’
‘I know, I was just looking outside and there’s not a star in the sky.’
Rose got up and took the couple of steps to the window and pulled back the curtain. She didn’t speak for a few minutes as she glanced along the street before looking up at the inky sky. ‘You’re right, it’s strange, especially when it’s full of them back home.’ She peered down at the street below. ‘The gas lights look pretty, although they do give the street a bit of an eerie glow.’
A man’s voice carried up from the street followed by a woman laughing.
Annie shook her head. ‘It’s going to take a bit of getting used to, that’s for sure. The only noises I could hear in my bed back home was Margaret chatting away, the cat purring while Rex prowled around from time to time, and the wind rustling in the trees.’
Rose closed the curtain. ‘Don’t forget the owls hooting away and the foxes trying to get at the chickens.’
‘That’s true, the foxes could be a problem, that’s for sure.’
Rose gave her friend a sober look. ‘Are you missing home?’
Annie looked down at the blanket and her lips tightened for a second. ‘Yes, I miss Margaret talking nonstop while the cat tramples all over her, trying to get comfortable. Then there’s my patchwork bedspread that my ma made from our old clothes.’ She sighed. ‘It’s all full of memories.’
‘You make it sound like you’re never going home again.’
Annie’s eyes opened wide as she looked up at her friend. ‘Gosh, no, that doesn’t bear thinking about, but to be able to go home again I need to get a job.’ She forced a smile. ‘And I mustn’t forget what brought us here in the first place.’
‘That’s true, and it’s the first night so it’s going to feel strange. We have to give it a chance.’
Annie nodded. ‘I know, you’re right. You’ve never said anything but don’t you have any urge to do something, some dream?’
Rose sat back down on the edge of the bed. ‘No, as my pa says, “Dreams are for other people.”’
Colour rose in Annie’s cheeks. ‘I don’t understand. Does that mean I’m wrong to want to follow my dream? Does it mean I should have just been happy with my lot?’
Rose reached over and patted Annie’s hand. ‘You’ve held onto your dream for as long as I can remember so don’t get upset.’ She paused, lowering her eyelashes. ‘My family just ridicule any ideas of what they would call grandeur, so don’t take any notice of me.’
Annie shook Rose’s hand. ‘Does that mean you do have an urge to do something but you have never spoken about it?’
Rose laughed but it was a hollow sound with no humour at all. ‘Oh no, definitely not. I think my father sees me as a bit of a handful so intends to marry me off, to someone in the village no doubt.’
‘I think that’s what my father wanted to do too. I’m lucky my mother understands and though she didn’t want me to leave home, she does support me in living my own life.’ Annie chuckled. ‘That or else she thinks I’ll get it out of my system and then go home again to settle down.’
Rose nodded. ‘Well, I might talk to Joyce about the job in the café she works in. I need to earn some money quite quickly. It hadn’t dawned on me we’d be paying rent straight away.’
‘I know what you mean, but I thought you didn’t want to do that because you wanted to see around London first.’
Rose shrugged. ‘I’ve been lying in bed thinking about it and the trouble is we’re here as grownups so it’s not about what we want anymore.’
‘Don’t jump into something you don’t want, because I have some money that will see us through a couple of weeks if need be.’
Rose nodded. ‘Thank you, I’ll pay you back once I’ve earned some.’ She looked around her friend’s room. ‘Your bedroom is the same as mine. I wonder if we could put pictures on the walls.’
Annie laughed. ‘Even if they said yes, we don’t have any money to buy pictures.’
‘No, but I’m sure we could sketch something to brighten the rooms up a bit.’
Annie opened her mouth to speak but a thud on the stairs stopped her. Both girls stared at the closed door. Dull whispered voices filtered through.
Rose looked back at Annie. ‘Can you hear what is being said?’
Annie shook her head. ‘I think it sounds like Joyce and her uncle though.’
‘Let’s hope so, otherwise we’re being robbed.’
Annie’s eyes widened as she listened harder.
Rose chuckled. ‘I don’t know why you’re trying so hard to hear, it’s clearly them.’ She lowered her tone to a whisper. ‘I never realised Joyce’s life was so bad, her letters were always happy and sounded exciting to me.’
Annie nodded. ‘Maybe
she was embarrassed, but I’m surprised she wanted us to visit her if that was the case.’
‘Maybe she was desperate for company or help.’ Rose pondered for a moment. ‘I wonder what happened to her aunt?’
Annie frowned. ‘I thought she had passed away.’
Creaking sounded along the landing below followed by the thud of a door shutting.
Rose shrugged. ‘Maybe, I don’t know. There are no photographs in any of the rooms I’ve been in.’
Annie nodded and lowered her voice to match Rose’s. ‘Did you notice there were no curtains in the dining room and yet there are pelmets. Why would you have one without the other?’
‘I don’t know.’ Rose shrugged. ‘But maybe he’s just putting them up and hasn’t got round to the actual curtains yet.’
‘Hmm, maybe.’ Annie peered at Rose. ‘The other thing I wanted to say was when I put my arms around Joyce, I was shocked at how thin she was. Do you think there’s something wrong with her?’
Rose’s lips tightened. ‘I noticed that too, maybe she’s not eating properly. We’ll have to keep an eye on her.’
6
‘My feet are killing me.’ Annie wiggled her toes inside her plain serviceable black shoes. ‘This is proving to be much harder than I thought it was going to be.’ She glanced up at the sun beating down on them.
Rose scowled, swinging her large black handbag by her side. ‘Mine too, but it was never going to be easy. What did you think? You get on a train to London and walk straight into one of the many theatres and they’d jump at the chance to have you on their stage?’
Several cars spluttered slowly past them, each coughing out their fumes and swirls of black smoke.
‘No, of course I didn’t.’ Annie stared down at her feet, trying to hide her lie. ‘But once I’ve been round them all, then that’s it. A job won’t suddenly appear, it could take years and then that makes me wonder what I will do in the meantime. Maybe, Sam was right.’
Rose shook her head. ‘Perhaps you’ll have to take the work at the café that Joyce works at.’
a heartwarming WW1 saga about love and friendship (The West End Girls Book 1) Page 9