by Tania Crosse
The servants’ Christmas dinner was slotted in between serving the family’s dinner and laying out an evening buffet for them. After they finished eating, the staff exchanged small presents, just token gifts, such as a bar of chocolate or a couple of scented bath cubes or something they’d fashioned themselves, such as Meg’s little paintings. She’d tried to make each one relevant to its recipient, with still lifes of all manner of objects, such as a mixing bowl and kitchen scales for Mrs Phillips, and for Jane, her copper pans gleaming in the light from a Victorian candle-stick. To Meg’s delight, everyone expressed great pleasure in their special painting, apart from Esme who merely grunted. Even Ralph’s eyes had sparkled at the garden fork and spade thrust into the ground beside a lavender bush that she’d painted for him. It all helped Meg to feel she was among friends. She hadn’t been able to suppress her gasp, though, when she’d opened her present from Bob – a pretty red and gold brooch in the shape of a bird.
‘Oh, Bob, it’s beautiful!’ she breathed. ‘I’ve only got you – well, you’ll see. It’s a still life of all the tools you use, but by a shed window with the light falling on them.’
‘Oh, that’s so unusual,’ Bob told her, unwrapping the picture she’d glued by its corners onto a piece of cardboard. ‘I shall treasure it. And the brooch is only paste,’ he admitted awkwardly.
‘It’s still beautiful, whatever it’s made of. I’ll go and pin it on my coat straight away.’
She didn’t notice the concerned glance that passed between Mr Yard and Mrs Phillips. Meg was a young girl, vulnerable after all the heartache she’d been through. Ralph, too, had frowned to himself. Much as Bob was his best mate and he knew his friend meant no harm, surely it wasn’t right, to show Meg that he, maybe, had a bit of a crush on her? Give the poor girl time to untangle her emotions before adding something else for her to deal with. He wouldn’t say anything to Bob just yet, mind. He’d keep an eye and see what happened.
The day passed so quickly for Meg and at the end of it, when she climbed the stairs to the attic, Mercury trotting up behind her as usual, she felt exhausted but happy. She really did feel as if some small measure of pleasure was beginning to percolate the great suppressed emotion of her grief. Even when Esme came into the room to join her, the other girl’s sullen manner didn’t spoil the gentle contentment that wrapped itself about her.
‘D’you mind if I read for a few minutes before we turn the light out?’ she asked, since although the central heating didn’t reach the attic, the electricity did.
‘Yes, I do!’ Esme snarled back, turning her back to pull her nightdress over her head. ‘Oh, look what a lovely present Nana May gave me,’ she mimicked sarcastically. ‘The rest of us only got a little bar of chocolate from the old biddy, so why should you get something special?’
Meg couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips as indignation clenched her heart into an angry knot. Couldn’t Esme give it a rest for just one day? ‘Well, I am working closely with her,’ she retorted. ‘And I can’t help it if we’ve become friends. And we did all get something extra nice from Mrs C.’
‘Yes, and yours was by far the best, a pretty silk blouse when the rest of us just got a scarf or some paltry little thing. And it’s not fair that old Yard chose you to teach about setting the table and everything, when I’ve been here five years and you’ve only just started. I don’t see why you’re supposed to be such a special case just ’cos your parents died. Think yourself lucky. I never even knew mine!’
Meg’s fists balled at her sides as Esme’s savage words ripped open the gaping wound in her heart just as it was beginning to heal a little. She tried to hold it back, but indescribable anger and despair exploded inside her like an erupting volcano.
‘Well, I’m sorry about that, but it’s not my fault,’ she grated. ‘And at least it saved you the pain of watching them die in front of you!’
She thumped her head down on the pillow, yanking the covers up over her face. Fury, agony, desperation swirled in her heart, rekindling her sorrow as her silent tears began to flow unchecked. How could Esme be so cruel? She didn’t know if she could stand the girl’s enmity a day longer.
She was dreading the next day. Boxing Day. The staff were all allowed to go home. Jane, Louise and Tabitha all had family in the village, and although Mrs Phillips would be on her own in her little house, she proclaimed that she needed a day off after all her hard work. Even Mr Yard had somewhere to go. But Esme, of course, had no family, and wasn’t going anywhere. So Meg would be stuck with her. Thank goodness Bob’s family were much too far away for him to be able to visit them in a day, and he would be around in the servants’ part of the house, too.
But the thought of being almost on her own with Esme was pretty daunting. To comfort herself, Meg reached out her arm from beneath the covers and stroked Mercury’s warm furry coat. The touch gave her strength. Why should she let Esme spoil everything when she was starting to feel a little better inside? No. She wouldn’t let her. She must be able to do something to put a stop to it.
And the tiny flame of determination began to flicker inside her once more.
*
As it happened, Meg spent most of Boxing Day with the boys. They clearly loved helping her with the animals, and when she wasn’t laying out the cold buffet Mrs Phillips had left for the family, she spent the rest of the daylight hours helping Max and Boris to build a den in the woods. Even when it was dark, they still wanted her company. Not knowing quite what to do with them, she had the brainwave of getting them to write a play to perform on the last night of their stay, which had everyone in stitches, a happy ending to a very happy stay.
All good things have to come to an end, however. The morning came when everyone stood outside the front door to wave off their Yuletide visitors and watch the car disappear up the long, straight drive. As it turned the corner onto the lane and out of sight, Meg felt strangely saddened. As they went back inside, the house already seemed quiet without Max and Boris’s ebullient chatter and Mrs Sofia’s tinkling laugh. Despite her exaggerated, dramatic gestures, the eccentric, fun-loving woman was kindness itself. When she’d grabbed hold of Meg and insisted on teaching her some dance steps, Meg had enjoyed herself so much that for half an hour, her grief had been driven completely from her mind. When Mrs C had also got to her feet and joined in, they’d almost been like three friends out at a local hop. Sofia seemed to have boundless energy when it came to dancing, but when Mrs C flopped down exhausted into her armchair, the look she threw in Meg’s direction was so warm that Meg felt her heart melt. Oh, yes, what Mr Wigmore had said to her was true. The mistress had grown very fond of her, and Meg had to admit that she felt the same.
Basking in this new sense of friendship, it was a few days later as she carried a tray of coffee and leftover Christmas cake into the sitting room that the idea suddenly sprang into her mind. Mrs C was alone, apart from Esme who was on her knees coaxing some life into the fire to supplement the central heating on this raw January afternoon.
Meg’s heart gave a mutinous flutter as she summoned up her courage. ‘Mrs C, I was wondering,’ she began tentatively as she stepped back from placing the tray on the table. ‘Would you mind terribly much if Esme and Jane swapped places in the attic rooms, please? Esme’s not too keen on having Mercury in with us, and as she’s the eldest of us and has been here the longest, it only seems right that she should have a room on her own.’
She mentally crossed her fingers, and didn’t know whether to laugh or quake in her shoes at the poisonous expression on Esme’s face as she turned round. But the older girl could hardly say anything, could she? And Meg could have crowed with triumph.
‘Not at all. That seems an excellent idea.’
‘Thank you, Mrs C.’
Meg almost skipped out of the room. She was sure Jane would be quite happy with the idea, and she gloated with satisfaction.
‘Think you’re so clever, don’t you?’ Esme sneered at her five minutes later. �
�Getting me put in a smaller room?’
‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ Meg answered with feigned innocence. ‘It might be smaller, but it will be all yours. And after all, as you so rightly pointed out, you’ve been here the longest and so should be treated as more senior. Of course, if you don’t want a room on your own, you don’t have to swap.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. I wouldn’t want to spend one more night with you or that flea-ridden animal if you paid me,’ Esme snapped. ‘And you’re welcome to that half-wit, as well,’ she threw in for good measure as she stormed out of the kitchen.
Meg watched her go. Esme was clearly seething at Meg’s getting one over on her. But Meg could put up with Esme’s temper during the day if it meant she wouldn’t have to put up with her at night anymore. And when Meg told Jane of the change-over, the scullery maid was thrilled to bits!
Later that afternoon, there was time for Jane and Esme to go upstairs and change rooms, and Meg went with them to help. There was the bed linen to swap over, as well as all their clothes and other possessions. Jane removed the old biscuit tins she kept under her bed filled with her little treasures and hugged them to her chest as she carried them next door.
‘Ah, are we carrying our precious little things?’ Esme sneered. ‘Let me see what you’ve got in there,’ she mocked, trying to wrestle the tins from Jane’s embrace. ‘The crown jewels?’
‘Leave her alone, you bully.’
Meg pulled the older girl away, fuming. Esme made a face at her, and then Meg saw her eyes latch onto something on Meg’s chest of drawers. Before Meg could stop her, Esme stuck her elbow out as she swiped past. The photo of Meg’s parents was knocked onto the floorboards and the glass smashed into smithereens.
‘Oh, dear, look what I’ve done,’ Esme chortled maliciously. ‘If it isn’t the picture of dear Mummy and Daddy.’
Meg’s heart lurched painfully and she broke out in a hot, angry sweat. It was all she could do to stop herself from throttling Esme there and then. If it hadn’t been for letting down Mrs C, she might have done. And she wasn’t going to stoop to Esme’s level by flying at her, yelling like a fishwife! She simply wouldn’t give Esme the satisfaction of knowing that she was capable of upsetting her so much.
Her eyes glinted like steel as she glowered at Esme before bending to pick up the photograph in its broken frame. ‘Never mind. Accidents happen,’ she said with a sarcastic smile. ‘I’ll just get a dustpan and brush from downstairs to sweep up the glass.’
Quietly she left the room, her face a mask of composure. But as she walked down the corridor, her smouldering grief reignited. It seemed that every time she took a step out of her misery, something happened to bring it crashing down around her again. Perhaps she should tell Nana May about how Esme was constantly picking on her. But that might look as though she was questioning Mrs C’s judgement about who she employed, and that was the last thing she wanted to do after all Mrs C’s kindness.
But she still felt caught up in a whirlwind of anger and despair. Instead of going down the stairs to fetch a dustpan and brush, she went to the female servants’ toilet and locked the door. She sat down on the pan, her head in her hands, and a brutal sob broke from her lungs as she silently began to weep.
Twenty-Two
Spring 1937
‘Oh, Jane, whatever’s the matter?’
Meg had been walking Mercury in the woods, her heart filling up pleasurably at the signs that spring was well on its way. Nature, true to its cycle, was coming to life once more. The bright yellow faces of lesser celandine were smiling up from the edge of the woodland paths. In other places, brambles tangled densely about each other like rolls of barbed wire, and Meg wondered if the goats might not be put to nibbling duty there. She didn’t know a lot about goats. They’d never kept them at the farm, so she’d have to find out if it would be safe for the little flock to gorge itself on such prickly fodder.
Meg was so deep in thought as she emerged from the wood that she didn’t notice the melancholy figure until she was almost upon it. Jane was such a happy soul in her own way that it was something of a shock to come across her, gazing across the lake and up to the house with tears glistening in her eyes. The scullery maid heard Meg and turned around, wiping her eyes with her fingers.
‘Oh, Meg, I can’t bear it,’ she gulped desperately.
‘Bear what?’ Meg asked in bewilderment. Had Mrs Phillips reprimanded her sternly over some minor oversight? Some food left stuck onto a plate Jane was supposed to have washed properly? Poor Jane was so sensitive that she took the smallest thing to heart.
‘I overhead Mr W and Mrs C talking,’ Jane proceeded to sniff between stifled sobs. ‘Mr W said that things are getting really tight, and he might have to sell Robin Hill. Some estate agent has contacted him to say that someone’s interested in buying it. And I heard Mrs C say that if they offer a good price, perhaps they ought to accept it and move somewhere smaller. Oh, Meg,’ Jane positively wailed now, ‘I expect they’ll still need a scullery maid, but I couldn’t bear to leave here. It’s become my home and I couldn’t live anywhere else!’
Something like ice streamed through Meg’s body. Robin Hill House to be sold? No, it wasn’t possible. In the few months Meg had been living there, she’d come to love the place, if not as much as the farm, then as a close second best. And Mr W and Mrs C had been so kind and welcoming towards her that even though she’d arrived with a rebellious heart, she now considered them as a second family. And then there was Nana May who’d become such an intimate part of Meg’s life she was like the grandmother she’d never known.
And, oh Lord! Reality loomed up and smacked Meg in the face. What about her plan? If Mr W and Mrs C left Robin Hill for somewhere smaller, they were unlikely to move anywhere with land. A garden, perhaps, but nowhere to keep animals. And even training her up as a possible replacement lady’s maid was hardly sufficient reason for them to take her with them, was it? And how necessary was it to have a lady’s maid if money was so tight, especially as they already had Nana May?
Meg would miss them all, of course, but what would become of her? Might the new owners take her on? And doing what? She’d probably come up against the same wall as before when it came to working on the farm. Nobody wanted a girl. And she was only partly trained as a lady’s maid, or even a parlourmaid for that matter, despite all Mr Yard’s instruction. And would she want to work for another upper-class family that might be far less compassionate than Mr W and Mrs C, and where the upstairs-downstairs divide might be far more rigorous?
Even as she took in Jane’s stricken face, Meg’s own brain was whirling. She’d be back to square one, wouldn’t she? Losing another home and another family. Surely life couldn’t treat her so cruelly? But as she stood at Jane’s side at the edge of the wood, she felt ashamed and ridden with guilt that even as she put her arm comfortingly about Jane’s shoulder, her thoughts were centred on what this momentous news would mean for herself. As for her finances, she had her allowance that would come via Mr Chillcott and which she hadn’t touched so far. And she’d been saving most of the small wage Mrs C had insisted on paying her, so overall, she wouldn’t be destitute.
But then, neither would the master and mistress. They could probably buy a lovely spacious detached property with say, four or five bedrooms, and a good-sized garden for half what Robin Hill House would sell for. But they wouldn’t need her, or Bob. But were things really that bad? There was always a fish and a meat course at every main meal – goodness, on the farm they’d only had meat two or three times a week, and apart from sardines and herrings, fish was so dear it was out of the question. And Mr Yard was always there to serve up wine and brandy and the like.
So, although daily life was affordable, it must be the house itself that was proving such a financial burden. Meg could see how costly it must be to run, but surely they could tighten their belts in other ways? As for the land, they had forty acres. It wasn’t huge as farms went, but it could be run in a more p
rofitable way.
What if she could be allowed free rein with it, she wondered silently as Jane trembled against her. Poor girl. Meg knew exactly how she felt. She stood there, patting Jane’s back and drowning in her own misery. If the worst came to the worst, she was going to find it hard to pick herself up for a second time.
‘Don’t worry, Jane,’ she murmured, cursing herself for uttering such platitudes. ‘Mrs C’s devoted to this place. I’m sure they’ll find a way to keep it.’
Jane pulled away, looking at her with trusting eyes. ‘D’you really think so?’ she snivelled.
‘Yes, I do. So dry your tears, and go back to your work. And if they do move, they’ll need a scullery maid wherever they go, I’m sure. Only I’d suggest you don’t mention any of this to anyone else until we hear more.’
A watery smile tugged at Jane’s lips. ‘No, I won’t. Thanks, Meg. You’ve made me feel much better.’
Meg felt her heart tumble as she watched Jane skip away. Living at Robin Hill House had been a wonderful interlude, a softening of the terrible blow fate had dealt her. But despite what she’d said to Jane, she felt as if it could now be over.
But was there anything she could do to help the generous couple who’d been so good to her in her hour of need? Hmm, there might be. She’d have to step out of her place to put her suggestions forward, but when had anything like that stopped her before? Her determination strengthened as she dragged herself out of the woods and into the warm spring sunshine. Her pace increased as she skirted the lake, and Mercury bounced around her in excitement. They were going towards the house, and the house often meant food or a tasty titbit.
‘Where are you off to in such a hurry?’
Meg had been encased in her own wretchedness and hadn’t even noticed Ralph hoeing between the emerging shoots of the perennials in the flower beds. She slowed her step, turning her head in the direction of his voice. He had paused in his labours, half smiling and eyebrows raised questioningly. Jacket discarded, he was dressed in a worn jumper, frayed at the cuffs and elbows, and was looking altogether happy in his work. He needn’t feel so smug, Meg thought bitterly. He could be out of a job before he knew it. If they moved somewhere smaller, Mr W and Mrs C would only need a gardener for a day or so a week, not a full-time one. And she felt annoyed when Mercury padded across the earth to say hello to him, tail wagging ferociously.