by Anna King
‘Oh, I nearly forgot, there’s a parcel for you… over there on the bed. No opening it, though, until you get home. It’s a surprise.’
Emily looked over at the four-poster bed and the bulky parcel that lay on the quilted eiderdown, her heart sinking rapidly as she realised that, once again, yet another inducement had been made to keep her here. Maybe she was being unfair and the gift was being offered simply out of kindness, but she couldn’t help wondering if they knew what had been on her mind for the last few months.
It seemed that every time she plucked up the courage to speak out, one of them would either praise her or give her yet another gift, while telling her how they couldn’t manage without her.
Taking the parcel, which Emily surmised contained more items of clothing from the trunk in the attic where Miss Rose kept her old clothes, she smiled.
‘Thank you, Miss Rose, but you mustn’t keep giving me presents. It’s not as if I work for nothing.’
The old lady waved her hand dismissively. ‘Tush, there, child. I’m only too well aware that the money George and I pay you is nowhere near what you could earn in one of the factories, especially now, when so many of our poor young men are away fighting. Still, there’s no shortage of women waiting to step into their shoes, though it’ll be a different story when the war is over and the men come back home. The government may be grateful now, but they won’t let the women keep jobs that rightly belong to the men. Oh, don’t pay me any attention, dear. I know you’re far too sensible to consider such an action. You run along now, and see George and collect your wages.’
Was there a warning in the lightly spoken words, Emily wondered, and for a moment she experienced a flash of anger. Then she looked into the faded blue eyes and saw the uncertainty mirrored there, and once again she relented. After all, she reasoned to herself as she hurried out into the long hallway, there was no point in upsetting Miss Rose now, when the problem could well resolve itself. She would wait until the end of the month to see how things lay, and in the meantime she would make the most of her unexpected holiday, for she wasn’t likely to get another chance of three weeks’ paid leave. And while she was home she would see how the land lay between her parents. Her dad might be able to put on a front for her usual few hours’ visit, but he’d be hard-pressed to keep it up for three whole weeks. Placing her bundle on the hall side-table, she ran lightly up the two flights of stairs to the large den where George Winter spent most of his time.
Knocking once on the heavy panelled door, she heard a gruff voice bidding her to enter and twisted the carved doorknob. This room, like the Study, was large and airy with a high, embossed ceiling. Around the walls stood solid book shelves, each of them crammed to overflowing with an assortment of books, some lying flat, some stacked neatly and others left open, their binders splayed untidily where they had been put down at an open page and forgotten. At the far end of the room rested an enormous oak desk, also covered with a multitude of books, and sitting behind the disordered array sat her employer – his face, like his sister’s, smiling fondly at her as she made her entrance.
‘Ah, there you are, my dear. I was just about to ring down for you.’ George Winter was a man of stocky build, with kindly blue eyes and a shock of grey hair that was for ever falling over his forehead and obliterating his view of his beloved books.
Getting to his feet, he came round the side of the desk and took her hands warmly, repeating the words his sister had uttered just a few minutes before. ‘Whatever will we do without you, Emily? I only wish we could take you with us… Oh, don’t be alarmed,’ he laughed merrily at the stricken look that came to her face. ‘I’ve no intention of kidnapping you and dragging you off to the wilds of Surrey. Though if you weren’t such charming company, and pretty to boot, we wouldn’t be so reluctant to let you out of our sight.’
The clear blue eyes twinkled merrily in the deeply lined face, bringing forth a loud chuckle from Emily’s throat.
‘Well now, I mustn’t keep you talking any longer, my dear. I’m sure you’ve a dozen things to attend to before you leave.’ Pushing aside a small pile of books, he picked up two brown envelopes. One had Emily’s name written clearly in George Winter’s bold handwriting, the other, intended for Mary, was unmarked. Holding both envelopes out to Emily, he waited while she put the envelopes into the pocket of her skirt and then, clasping his hands behind his back, he walked over to the bay window that overlooked the gardens below. Clearing his throat loudly he said, ‘You’ll find a month’s wages, as promised, also an extra two pounds. The two pounds constitute a rise of ten shillings a week. I only wish it could be more.’
Behind him, Emily stared at the profile of her employer, her hand involuntarily going to the side pocket of her skirt. Oh Lord, this wasn’t fair. It was as if the pair of them had the power to read her mind, and were doing everything possible to dissuade her from leaving them.
This was borne out as George Winter added solemnly, ‘We… that is, my sister and I, realise that you could easily earn twice what we pay you, including the raise. And neither of us would harbour any ill-feeling should you decide to leave our employ. With Mary gone, you will have to run the house single-handed, for I doubt we’ll be able to get any help.’ He gave a short, nervous laugh. ‘It seems as though the days of the servant are over. Or maybe Rose and I have simply outlived our time. Everything has changed so much since the war started, it frightens me at times. Even our monetary system has been altered. Oh, I don’t suppose it bothers you over-much if you’re paid in silver, sovereigns or paper money, but then you are young, and the young always adapt to change much more quickly and easily than the elderly. But I can’t get used to a paper pound, and a paper ten shillings. It just doesn’t seem like real money to me.’ He shook his head and sighed heavily.
‘The world… that is, the world that we grew up in, has gone. And I doubt it will ever return; at least, not in our lifetime.’
Emily stood silently, her eyes fixed on the broad back by the window, and again her mind shouted: It’s not fair, it’s not bloody fair. They were playing on her good nature, and on the genuine affection she felt for them. But even as she silently ranted against the unfairness of the situation, she knew she couldn’t just walk out on them. She was bound by her own sense of honour to remain here for as long as she was needed. Not trusting herself to speak, she mumbled a hasty thank you and fled the room. Once out on the landing, she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She was being silly, getting herself worked up into a state. What she had to do was get on with her work, and push everything else to the back of her mind.
There’d be time enough during the next few weeks for her to think about her future. For now she had a job to attend to, and it wasn’t going to get done on its own. Giving herself a mental shake, she lifted her head and walked purposefully down the carpeted stairway. The rustle of the two envelopes in her pocket reminded her that she had to give Mary her wages. Then again, she would be wise to hang onto it for a while longer, until Mary had finished the tasks allocated to her before leaving.
Humming quietly, Emily went in search of the young maid.
Chapter Four
The morning passed swiftly in a whirl of last-minute packing and checking to see if the Winters had everything they needed for their stay in Surrey. Mary had received her wages and left, not even stopping to say her farewells to her employers, nor to Emily, who watched her departure with envious eyes. It was gone twelve o’clock when Emily finally waved the elderly couple, driven by their nephew, off from the front step. And it took another two hours to finish covering the furniture and make sure that the guest room was in order for Captain Winter during his stay.
Tired now, she made her way wearily to her room in the basement. Eyeing the comfortable single bed with its gaily patterned quilt, she resisted the impulse to lie down for a moment’s rest. The way she was feeling, she couldn’t trust herself not to fall asleep. Opening the single wardrobe, she took out three dresses, f
our blouses and two skirts, all hand-me-downs from Miss Rose over the years, and laid them carefully in the battered suitcase she had arrived with six years ago. Looking at the expensive clothing brought a spasm of guilt spiralling through her body. With a loud grunt she quickly closed the lid of the suitcase, determined not to give in to sentimentality.
‘Damn it,’ she spoke aloud to the empty room. ‘It’s not as if they were given to me out of charity. I’ve worked bloody hard over the years.’ Yet she couldn’t quieten her conscience. She wasn’t the type to take gifts, no matter how small, as if it were her due. It simply wasn’t in her nature.
Grabbing the case, she walked up the small flight of stairs to the first landing, then groaned as she spied the bundle left lying on the hall table. It was too bulky to fit into the small case – she would just have to carry it under her arm. Putting the case down with a thud beside the table, she took her coat off the wooden coat-stand by the door and quickly thrust her arms through the sleeves, then jammed on her felt hat, poking a large hat-pin ruthlessly through the felt and out the other side. Glancing up at the grandfather clock, she saw that it was gone two o’clock and tutted impatiently.
Her mother would be expecting her home any minute, but she couldn’t leave until Captain Winter returned to pick up the keys. Though why Mr Winter couldn’t have had a spare set of keys made she didn’t know.
Impatient to be off, Emily pulled open the heavy front door just as the gleaming black Daimler pulled up at the kerb. A smile of relief lit up her face as she skipped down the three stone steps towards the khaki-dressed figure behind the steering wheel of the motorcar.
‘Hello, Emily. I’m sorry I’m late. The traffic was awful, but then it always is at the weekend.’ Captain Matthew Winter smiled at the tall young woman. ‘I expect you’re in a hurry to get home. Are they all your things?’ he asked, nodding towards the case at her feet.
‘Well, either that or I’m running off with the family heirlooms,’ Emily laughed, pointing to the parcel held tightly under her arm. A large grin spread across the man’s face, while his grey eyes took in every detail of the face that had become so dear to him. It wasn’t a beautiful face, in the conventional sense, yet the deep blue eyes and pert nose set in a face strong with character exuded a beauty that was sometimes overpowering. He could see wisps of chestnut hair beneath the dark green hat and wondered what it would look like left free to fall in waves around the lovely face. She was wearing a fitted coat the same colour as her hat, and it stopped short of her ankles, just skimming the tops of her black-buttoned boots.
‘How long are you home for?’ The question drew him from his scrutiny and, stepping out of the car, he walked to her side saying ruefully, ‘Just a weekend pass, I’m afraid. I rejoin my regiment on Monday.’
‘Oh… oh, that’s a shame,’ Emily said, trying to hide her impatience to be off. Her mum would start to worry if she didn’t get home soon. ‘Well, I’d better get a move on, before my mum sends out a search party for me.’ She laughed awkwardly. Aware of his penetrating gaze, she felt her cheeks begin to burn and added hastily, ‘Your room is ready, and there’s enough food to last you a few days, though you’ll have to catch the milkman if you need any milk.’ Over his shoulder Emily caught sight of a tall figure running across the park, his arm waving to catch her attention. Seeing Emily’s eyes focused behind him, Matthew turned his head, his mouth falling into a smile of welcome as he recognised Emily’s brother.
‘Hello, Lenny. Have you come to escort your sister home?’ he asked kindly. He felt sorry for the young boy trapped in a man’s body.
‘Hello, Captain Winter.’ Lenny grinned at the uniformed man for a minute, before turning to Emily. ‘I was going to come earlier, Em, but I fell asleep, only I didn’t know I was asleep till I woke up.’
Before Emily could answer, Matthew, his voice choked with amusement said lightly, ‘Well now, how would you like a lift home. I’m not doing anything, and I’d be more than happy to drive you both home in comfort.’
At these words, Lenny’s face lit up in a picture of pure delight, his blunt features pulling and stretching in anticipation of the treat in store for him.
‘Oh, Em…’he breathed in wonder. ‘Could we? Could we, Em? I’ve never been in a car before.’ His eyes, filled now with longing, looked to his sister for confirmation, fearful that she would turn down the offer of a ride in the gleaming black car. And Emily, seeing the earnest, mute appeal in the clear blue eyes, nodded.
‘Thank you, Captain Winter, that’s very kind of you. That is, if you’re sure you have time.’ The words were hardly out of her mouth when, with a whoop of pure delight, Lenny, not wanting to waste a minute, clambered into the motorcar and settled himself comfortably on the long, red leather seat.
Emily looked up at Matthew and laughed. ‘It seems he’s taking no chances on you changing your mind.’ She was about to lift her case, when Matthew also bent down, and for a moment their hands touched. At the feel of his hand on hers, Emily jumped as if she’d been burnt.
Noting her reaction to his innocent touch, Matthew’s heart leapt in dismay. Well, what did you expect, man, his inner voice shouted at him. Why, you’re old enough to be her father. Yet, when he was near her, he didn’t feel his thirty-six years. He had been married for five years when Emily had first come to work at his uncle’s house. He had been visiting with his wife when the fourteen-year-old girl had first started work. He could still remember how she had held her head high, determined not to show her nervousness, her eyes as wide as saucers as she’d gazed in wonder at the her new surroundings. Over the years he had watched her grow into a proud, independent woman, but it wasn’t until this past year that he had realised his true feelings for her. And the knowledge had both shocked and shamed him. At the time, Mary had been dead only a year and he’d been weighed down with guilt. First, for being disloyal to his wife’s memory and, second, for hankering after a girl young enough to be his daughter.
He had carried his tortuous emotions onto the battlefields in France, not caring if he lived or died. Yet while men dropped in their hundreds around him, he remained standing, unscathed among the bloody carnage, his eyes and ears assailed by the sight and screams of his battalion as they lay already dead, or dying in agony. As their blood had seeped into the French soil, some, merely boys, had called out piteously for their mothers, while he stood helplessly, unable to do anything to alleviate their suffering, and ultimately their deaths. The stark, searing memory was with him still, and would be until the day he died. He still couldn’t understand why he had been spared. For the last year he had been stationed away from the field of combat. But on Monday he would be returning to the battlefield; maybe this time he wouldn’t be so lucky.
‘Are you all right, sir?’ Emily’s voice jerked him from his reverie.
‘Sorry, Emily,’ he smiled at her anxious face. ‘I was wool-gathering. It must be a sign of old age creeping up on me.’
‘Oh, Captain Winter, you’re not that old.’
Emily’s reassurance wasn’t quite what he had hoped for. Still, serve him right for fishing for compliments, he thought ruefully.
As they walked towards the car, Matthew nodded towards the smiling Lenny, who was absorbed with the dashboard of the motorcar, and said softly, ‘Has he had any trouble…? I mean, in regard to him not being in uniform. Oh, now then, Emily, don’t get on your high horse, I meant no offence,’ he said hastily as he sensed the sudden stiffening of the body beside him. ‘I realise that the people in your street understand, but to others, who don’t know Lenny… Well, all they see is a seemingly healthy man who should, in their eyes, be doing his bit for King and country.’
Taking hold of her arm he moved closer, his head bending down towards hers. ‘People can be cruel, Emily, especially if they think they have a grievance. I’ve seen men – good, kind brave men, who, because of their beliefs, refuse to fight, refuse to kill or injure another human being – being taunted and physically abused f
or their beliefs. Not all conchies are cowards. In fact, many of them are, to my mind, a lot braver than most. For it takes a special courage to stand on one’s own against the surging masses.’
Seeing the worried expression in Emily’s eyes he straightened up, ran a hand through his short, cropped hair, put his peaked cap squarely on his head and smiled. ‘Well now, enough of all this gloom and doom. I’m sorry if I’ve alarmed you, Emily, I just thought you should be warned. Now then, I’ve taken up enough of your time for today. We’d better join Lenny before he bursts with impatience.’
On the short journey to Homerton, Emily sat silently, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, while Lenny chatted away excitedly. Matthew’s views on conscientious objectors had hit a raw nerve in her. Had he been hinting at her dad’s refusal to join up? Almost immediately she dismissed the idea. Captain Winter would never resort to sly innuendoes. Besides, he probably didn’t even realise that her dad was now eligible for service. She was just being over-sensitive. Sensitive and ashamed at her father’s cowardice. And he was a coward; a coward and a bully. Suddenly the prospect of three weeks at home wasn’t quite so appealing. She was still brooding when Matthew finally pulled up at the top end of Fenton Street.
Lenny groaned in disappointment.
‘Oh, Captain Winter, can we have another ride along the street, please?’
Matthew turned his head to look at the earnest face, his heart going out to the young man. The way things were going with the war, he wouldn’t be surprised if Lenny ended up with a rifle thrust into his hands. After all, what did the top brass care about a man’s mental ability – it was their bodies they were after. Just more cannon-fodder to feed to the never-ending bombardment of guns.
‘Come on, Lenny, and stop pestering Captain Winter.’ Emily’s voice cut into his thoughts. Dragging the reluctant Lenny out of the car, she turned to Matthew, a smile of gratitude on her lips. ‘Thank you, sir, it was very kind of you to drop us home, we’re very…’