Nobody’s Girl

by Tania Crosse

  Meg felt grateful to the cook; perhaps she wasn’t so prickly, after all.

  Everyone else sat down at the refectory table, and Jane’s pointed little face broke into a shy smile as she twisted her neck to gaze at Meg seated next to her.

  ‘Your dog’s lovely. Wish I had a dog like that. Was he a sheepdog on your farm?’

  ‘Meant to be,’ Meg answered, feeling a little more relaxed. ‘He’s brilliant around animals, but he never took to being trained. Just wants to play all the time. But it’s going to be part of my duties to train some sense into all of the dogs, apparently.’

  ‘They certainly need it,’ Jane answered her with an important air. ‘Dash about all over the place, they do. If they get in the drawing room, they’ll get up on the sofas if they get half the chance. And old Patch’ll wee on the carpet. But I suppose it’s not his fault he’s getting old and can’t hold it.’

  ‘Jane!’ Mrs Phillips admonished. ‘We won’t have such talk at the table.’

  But Jane was still giggling and Meg had to suppress a smile. ‘Don’t worry. Mercury’s fully house-trained and would never do such a thing. So where do the dogs sleep?’

  ‘Well, Topaz, he’s the golden one, he sleeps with Mr W and Mrs C in their bedroom. But the others sleep here in the servants’ hall.’

  ‘D’you think Mercury’d be allowed to sleep with me?’ Meg asked hesitantly. Oh, what a comfort that would be!

  ‘I should think so,’ the cook answered, ‘but we’ll have to check with Mrs C. Right, put the soup down here, Tabby,’ she ordered as Tabitha appeared carrying the heavy tureen. ‘And let’s eat. Manners, mind, everyone.’

  ‘Pepper and salt, Miss Chandler?’ Bob asked. ‘Or are we to call you Meg?’

  ‘Oh Meg, please,’ she smiled back. It was nice that he was trying to make her feel at home. He was a reasonable-looking chap, about the same age as Ralph Hillier, Meg guessed. And then she jolted with surprise at having had any thought outside her own grief and bitter anger.

  ‘And would you like water or a cup of tea?’ Bob went on.

  ‘Just a glass of water’d be fine, thank you.’

  ‘Here you are, then.’

  Bob filled her a glass from the jug on the table and Meg nodded her thanks as they got on with the meal. The soup was plain but wholesome, and tasty enough to tantalise Meg’s appetite. It was good to eat in company rather than in the solitary loneliness she’d had to endure for the past weeks. She listened carefully to the conversation, gleaning snippets of information about the household and felt at ease asking questions if something wasn’t clear. By the time the meal was over, she already felt more like one of the team of staff.

  ‘Remember what Nana May said about showing Meg upstairs and helping carry up all her things,’ Mrs Phillips reminded Esme as they all got up from the table.

  It seemed to Meg that the smile Esme flashed her was laced with sarcasm.

  ‘This way,’ the girl instructed crisply as she disappeared out through the kitchen, and Meg had to hurry to keep up with her. They went along the corridor to the hall where Meg at once started gathering up all her possessions. She couldn’t carry everything, of course, but when she straightened up, she saw that Esme was standing there watching her struggle with her arms crossed tightly across her chest and making no attempt to help.

  ‘If you think I’m running round after you, you’re mistaken,’ the girl virtually spat. ‘I’m not hurting my back carrying those blooming boxes. Look as if they weigh a ton. You’ll have to come back down and get them yourself.’ She leant forward, almost jabbing her nose into Meg’s face. ‘And don’t think I’m sharing my room with some mangy dog, neither!’

  She spun on her heel, turning the corner out of sight. Meg was so astounded that, for a second or two, she simply stared after her, open-mouthed. What on earth had she done to deserve that? If the girl hadn’t raced off, Meg would have challenged her. But laden down and not knowing where to go, she had no choice but to follow on behind. She was glad of Nana May’s explanation of the layout of the house, and also she could hear Esme’s footsteps hurrying up the servants’ stairs to the floor above. She’d have to try and catch her up. But when she did, would it be worth having it out with her? Perhaps it’d be better to wait and see what transpired.

  In her head, Meg could hear her father’s wise voice reiterating one of his favourite sayings. Discretion can sometimes be the better part of valour. Perhaps on this occasion he’d have been right, so Meg vowed to hold her tongue. For now, at least.

  Seventeen

  As she snuggled down in bed that night, Meg closed her eyes, the day’s events whirring in her head. To her surprise, she’d discovered that there was a neat French seam down the middle of the sheets. Obviously, they’d been doubles in a previous life, but the worn centres had since been cut out and the stronger, outside edges sewn together to form a single-size sheet. Evidence of the thrift Mrs C had mentioned in their conversation, perhaps, or was it just what she should expect in the rank of servant? Not that she minded at all. It was the sort of thing she was used to. Besides, being old meant that the sheets had been washed to a luxurious softness.

  The room itself was cold, as the system of pumping hot water through pipes and radiators didn’t extend to the attic bedrooms. But Meg was used to sleeping in a cold room. It was only on the bitterest of winter nights that a fire had ever been lit in the bedrooms at the farmhouse. But then, as now, Meg had been armed with a hot-water bottle, and in a few minutes, she’d become as warm as toast.

  The hot-water bottle had been just another of the touches that had made her feel welcome in this strange house. The servants had not only been kind to her, but had shown a genuine interest and a desire to help her settle in. Mrs Phillips’s bark, she’d learned, was a lot worse than her bite, and her treatment of her underlings was actually very fair. The young maids had all been friendly and helpful, and Bob Thorpe had amused her by being almost over-attentive. Even Mr Yard, the butler, had shown her deep consideration, and had already taught her how to lay the table when it was just the family at home. He even promised to let her assist him lay up for a formal dinner the next time the occasion arose, in case he was ever indisposed.

  It was only Esme who’d continued, well, to virtually ignore her. The look on the girl’s face when Mr Yard had taken Meg through to the dining room for her ‘lesson’ had been positively nasty. But Meg had met her icy stare defiantly. It wasn’t her fault the butler had recognised something in her that he didn’t see in the housemaid. Was it intelligence? Or a willingness to learn? God knew that Meg had arrived with bitterness scorching in her heart. But she was determined to make the most of the situation, and everyone – apart from Esme - had shown her such kindness that her resentment was fading away. Nothing could ever ease her grief, but she was beginning to think she could find some sort of happiness here.

  The house itself was fascinating. And as for the central heating system, she’d never imagined anything like it. At first, she’d been scornful of such extravagance, but it certainly made the house very comfortable. But she began to see signs that the household mightn’t be quite so wealthy as it appeared. Nothing went to waste in the kitchen, she’d been instructed never to leave on an unnecessary electric light, and now the sheets.

  Cosy though she was, sleep refused to come. And it wasn’t because she wanted to sob her heart out as she’d done on almost every night since the accident. How would Esme react to her tears? she wondered. No. She couldn’t doze off because she felt so animated.

  After lunch, Nana May had shown her Mr W and Mrs C’s suite above the magnificent drawing room – a spacious bedroom, a plumbed-in bathroom which was a wonder to Meg, and a dressing room. More by luck than anything, she’d discovered the narrow staircase to the female servants’ rooms as she’d struggled to follow Esme while laden with some of her possessions. To her amazement and delight, she’d also discovered that the maids even had their own bathroom and lavatory to share, together w
ith a washbasin in each room!

  ‘The first room is the sewing room, and then this is my room and the other one is for guests,’ Nana May had explained as they passed through the upper storey of the old part of the house. They then proceeded to the wing at the far end. ‘There’s two more guest rooms and two bathrooms on this level of the new part. And these are the stairs to the men’s rooms above. So it’s virtually a mirror image of the other wing.’

  ‘I see,’ Meg nodded. ‘So, if these are all guest rooms, does that mean there’s no family, or are they all grown-up and flown the nest?’

  She noticed a shadow pass over Nana May’s normally smiling face. ‘Children never came,’ she had said quietly. ‘It saddened them greatly, so we never speak about it. The only relatives they have are Mr Peregrine and his family. That’s Wigmore’s younger brother. He’s a bit of a wild one, a famous artist now, but used to drive Wigmore to distraction in his youth. But, he made the grade in the end and has done pretty well for himself. I just wish he and his wife, Sofia, had disciplined their two boys a bit better.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs C mentioned them to me.’

  ‘Oh, good boys, but they’ve never been taught to behave. But you’ll see for yourself. They’re all coming to stay at Christmas. Now, d’you think you could find your way around? I could certainly do with getting on. And you need to unpack, and by then, it’ll be time for tea. Four o’clock sharp for Clarissa and myself, and then the servants afterwards.’

  Goodness, tea when they’d only just had lunch? And Meg knew they had supper before going to bed. If she managed to find an appetite for all that was on offer, she’d soon be as round as a ball!

  The kindly Nana May had managed to find room for her boxes in a storage cupboard under the eaves, and Meg had gone to unpack her personal possessions in the bedroom she was to share with Esme. She’d been allocated a chest of drawers, and in the bottom one, she put all the artwork she’d brought with her. She had closed the drawer pensively. She simply hadn’t had the heart for such things since the accident. It was too reminiscent of happier times. But today her desire to paint again had been rekindled.

  Unpacking had only taken her ten minutes, so she’d taken herself off to have a closer look at the farmyard and the animals before returning to the servants’ hall. Surprisingly, she’d found herself quite hungry by then. Her appetite had shrunk to next to nothing after the accident, but with the good company and the excitement of a new life, it appeared to be returning.

  It was after the servants’ tea that she was summoned to Clarissa’s sitting room.

  ‘Have you enjoyed your first day?’ the mistress of the house asked her, glancing up from an open book on her lap. ‘I do hope everyone’s making you feel welcome.’

  ‘Very much so, thank you, Mrs C.’ Apart from Esme, she thought ruefully, but she could hardly say anything on her first day, could she?

  ‘And have you decided how you’ll plan your day?’

  ‘Oh, well, the animals will always need seeing to first thing in the morning. But when that’s all done, perhaps I can find Nana May and she can show me what she needs me to do until it’s time for the animals again.’

  ‘That sounds perfect. I’m sure it’ll all work splendidly. Ah, I see your eyes wandering to my book. Do you like reading?’

  ‘I did when I was at school,’ Meg had replied cautiously, not wanting to appear too ignorant. ‘But I never had time for it when I was at home. I was helping on the farm every spare minute.’

  ‘Well, I hope we’re not going to work you that hard,’ Clarissa teased, her eyes bright. ‘So do help yourself to any book you’d like to borrow from the study. Just don’t go in if Wig’s working in there. He doesn’t like to be disturbed.’

  ‘Yes, of course. But that’d be very kind of you to let me borrow some of your books. I promise I’d look after them. I’d like to go back to reading if I have time.’

  ‘Well, it sounds to me as if you can organise your day very well, so I think we’ll just leave you to get on with it. And you only have to ask if you have any problems.’

  Now, as her mind wandered back over her first day at Robin Hill House, Meg finally had to bite back her tears over the kindness everyone had shown her. Mum, Dad, she whispered silently into the shadows, wherever you are, if you can hear me, they’re looking after me very well here, so you’ve no need to worry. But I do miss you so much. I just want to turn the clock back and to have everything as it was. But even Mrs C’s kindness can’t do that.

  The choking constriction in her throat swelled up again, moisture collecting under her closed eyelids. Would it ever stop, this festering emptiness that niggled at the back of her every waking thought? Despite the pleasant day she’d spent, she didn’t feel she could be truly happy ever again.

  She reached out from beneath the bedclothes, feeling for Mercury’s thick, soft coat as he lay asleep on the floor beside her. When she’d asked permission to have him in her room, Mrs C had granted it at once. Meg was so relieved. To touch him, to know that he was there, her only remaining link with her old life, was so reassuring – even if Esme had objected in the most strident terms when she’d called him to follow her upstairs.

  But Meg wasn’t going to give in. ‘Mrs C said I could have him in my room, just like she has Topaz in hers. So if you’re that worried, you’ll have to take it up with her.’

  She’d stood her ground steadily, watching the anger that flushed into the housemaid’s face. But all the other girl could do was shoot her a venomous look before pushing past and stomping up the stairs in front of her.

  ‘Oh, don’t take any notice of her.’ Bob had suddenly appeared at Meg’s shoulder. ‘Right old sourpuss she can be sometimes. So, you sleep tight, and see you in the morning.’

  Meg had returned his smile and then continued up the stairs with Mercury at her heels. By the time she had reached the room, Esme was already getting into bed and made a deliberate show of turning her back on her new roommate.

  Oh, well, be like that, Meg thought to herself as she stroked Mercury’s silky head, defiance seeping back into her heart. Couldn’t the stupid girl see that she couldn’t hurt her? That the worst thing that could ever happen to her already had, and that nothing else could ever touch her?

  She was trying to be strong. She’d made a complete break with her past – even with Mandy who’d never been a really close friend, if she was honest – in order to make a fresh start. A new life.

  Now, she forced her mind to go back over little details of the day. Jane remembering where she’d put Meg’s best coat, for instance. The order of cutlery Mr Yard had shown her. The flowers grown in the greenhouses so that they’d have a longer season for indoor displays. The indoor lavatories, even for the servants – now that was something! And the bathrooms, too!

  But it seemed that no matter how hard Meg tried to divert her train of thought, it kept going back to her parents’ beloved faces, and her mind wouldn’t let her sleep until she’d shed some silent tears into the stillness of the slumbering house.

  Eighteen

  Wigmore sat down in one of the armchairs in the sitting room and leant back against the comfortable upholstery. It was good to be home after a week in London, directing his employees at the factory with the reduced work that was coming their way, and trying desperately to get new orders. If things didn’t improve soon, he’d have to reduce his staff yet again, something he hated doing. And the private benevolent fund he’d set up years ago to help anyone who couldn’t work through illness or injury was now helping those he’d had to lay off. This wretched Means Test was so awful that it was hard to get help from the government. But Wig’s fund was running low, and he’d have to top it up with his own money yet again. Heaven knew, he took the absolute minimum to run Robin Hill House, and he didn’t want to put any of the servants out of work, either!

  But just now, he had another matter on his mind. There was a good blaze in the grate – wood from a dead tree they’d felled the previous spr
ing, so it wasn’t costing them anything. He loved the whole house, but this cosy room was like an inner sanctum for himself and his dear wife. He took out his pipe and filled it with the utmost care, all the time glancing across at Clarrie. Her face was glowing, something he hadn’t witnessed in her for years. Nothing could have pleased him more, yet it also filled him with trepidation.

  ‘Don’t get too attached to the girl,’ he finally voiced the thoughts that were trundling in his head. ‘I know you want to help her, and so do I. But we don’t know what her intentions are. She’s a lovely girl but she could walk out at any time, and never look back.’

  ‘Hmm, I don’t think she will, Wig,’ Clarrie’s eyes were sparkling. ‘She was talking about earning her keep until she’s twenty-one, and then taking all her compensation money and her savings to open a business of some sort.’

  ‘There you are, then. She’s a strong-minded young woman is Miss Chandler.’

  ‘Certainly has her head screwed on. But she’s so very amenable. And who knows what’ll happen in five years.’

  ‘Well, I don’t see her staying on as your lady’s maid once she comes of age. That’s if Nana May goes into retirement in the meantime and young Meg takes her place.’

  ‘Well, I’m enjoying her company while she is here. Oh, Wig.’ Clarrie sat forward, her hands clasped eagerly. ‘There is something special about her. She mightn’t be particularly well educated, but she’s intelligent, she’s polite, willing… You’ll get to like her, too, I know you will.’

  ‘I already do like her, Clarrie. But I just don’t want you to start thinking of her… well, let’s just say that I don’t want you getting hurt.’

  ‘I won’t.’ Clarrie gave a positive smile. ‘Whatever the future holds for her, I don’t see Meg as someone who’d just disappear out of our lives without a by-your-leave. She’s not that sort.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’re right. And I suppose I should be pleased if she makes you happy for just a short while.’