A Dream to Share

by A Dream to Share (retail) (epub)

  ‘A cup of tea – or a mocha chocolate if you would prefer it?’ said Gabrielle, pulling out a chair from the table and indicating that Alice sit down.

  Alice blinked her astonishment. ‘The latter, p – please.’ Victoria had once said that the cook’s mocha chocolate was out of this world but Gabrielle had never offered to make Alice a drink before. She sat on the chair and watched her percolate the coffee and melt chocolate in a bowl over a pan of hot water. Alice was bemused, but grateful for this less­ening of the tension between them. She found her mind drifting, think­ing about Bert and Seb, but was startled from her reverie by Gabrielle’s voice.

  ‘So what is your opinion of my son having found himself an American woman?’

  Alice watched as she placed the steaming beverage on the well­-scrubbed table. Then she lifted her eyes to the woman’s handsome face. ‘I hate her without having seen her and pray that she never comes here.’ Gabrielle smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘An honest answer, that is good.’ She pushed the plate of dainty ham sandwiches she had made across the table and sat opposite her. ‘She is not in love with my son. I, his mother, can tell.’ She pressed a clenched fist against her left breast. ‘I feel it here. If she loved him then she would not have let him return home without her.’

  Alice only just stopped herself from smiling. Seb’s mother definite­ly liked to turn on the dramatics. ‘What about him? Do you think he loves her?’

  Gabrielle’s expression changed and she reached for her own steam­ing mug. ‘He tells me he is mad about her but he left her to her own devices in America. That is like a trumpet blast to me.’ She took a deep draught of the mocha coffee. ‘I ask myself is it possible she has an eye to Mr Waters.’

  Alice almost dropped her sandwich. ‘I can’t see why. No one who could have Seb would look at Mr Waters.’

  Gabrielle lowered her mug, revealing a creamy moustache above her upper lip. Her liquid brown eyes glinted. ‘Pah! You are so young. It is true that my son is a handsome boy but Mr Waters is a man with his own business.’

  Alice said bluntly, ‘Well, if she wanted Mr Waters then she’s gone a funny way about it making up to Seb.’

  Gabrielle closed her lips and swallowed and several moments passed before she said solemnly, ‘It is possible that her parents thought Mr Waters too old for her and she decided to settle for my son for the moment. Maybe she will insist on his going to live in America if she and Sebastian marry. I wouldn’t like that. You made mistakes in the past and there are little difficulties we would need to sort out if you were to marry my son, but you will not want to take him away from England.’

  ‘Seb might refuse to go and live in America.’

  ‘America is a beautiful country and a go-ahead young man could make his fortune there, so he could be tempted.’ Gabrielle’s eyes nar­rowed. ‘There are a lot of rich Americans. I wonder how her family made its money.’ She added with relish, ‘I think a little detective work, that would not put to shame Mr Sherlock Holmes himself, is needed. We will prove she is unworthy of him and then there will be a chance of my son turning to you.’

  The woman was crackers, thought Alice. But she was not going to argue with Seb’s mother in this mood. Whilst Gabrielle could not match her own father for cruelty and bullying, she knew she was just as determined to control her. As for her suggestion that she cast herself in the role of Sherlock Holmes to discover more about Juliana’s family, that had to be a joke. She couldn’t even find out where Bert was, never mind trying to delve into the past of a family that lived in America.

  Maybe she should simply seek alternative employment. Emma’s stories had been enough to put her off the idea of working as a domes­tic but there was always shop work or sewing, although that would mean finding another place to live and she could not afford to pay for lodgings with the kind of wages she would get. Again Alice thought of Emma, who had also been looking for a live-in position and wondered if she had had any luck with her search.

  Chapter Five

  October, 1907

  Emma entered the Servants’ Registry Office in Grosvenor Place just in time to see a woman, dressed strikingly in an outfit of red and black, at the counter.

  ‘The last girl really was no use to me at all, Mr Jones,’ she said in a voice that carried. ‘I need someone with vision, plenty of common sense, and who is utterly loyal and discreet.’

  ‘You’re asking too much. You didn’t tell me what went on in your house, Mrs Black,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Some of these girls come fresh from the country and find what you do frightening. I have to con­fess that I don’t approve either.’

  The woman laughed. ‘I don’t seek your approval, Mr Jones. I don’t need it. I will pay you a handsome fee if you find me the right girl.’

  He flushed. ‘I’ll do my best but I can’t promise anything. Good day to you.’

  ‘Good day to you, too. Such a pity you feel the way you do, I could have helped you with your problem.’ Mrs Black smiled as his jaw dropped, and made for the exit, wielding her umbrella like a wand.

  Emma watched her departure with interest before taking her place at the counter. Mr Jones was opening and closing the ledger, and muttering, ‘Now where is my pen? I know I had it here. What did she mean problem? I have no problem. I’m perfectly well.’

  ‘So what about a live-in job? Preferably no men in the household?’ said Emma, resting her elbows on the counter and gazing at him hope­fully.

  The man lifted his eyes and sighed. ‘Not you again! No, Miss Griffiths, I have nothing for you.’

  ‘What about that woman who’s just gone out?’ Emma jerked her head in the direction of the outer door. ‘She sounded needy.’

  Mr Jones’s manner thawed slightly. ‘Well, she certainly meets your criteria and you’ve enough nerve for anything.’ He found his pen and, dipping it in the inkpot, wrote down a name and address. ‘She lives the other side of the river in one of those big houses not far from Queen’s Park Bridge… Victoria Crescent. Tell her I sent you.’

  Emma thanked him, and was glad she had put on her Sunday best. ‘There is just one other thing, Miss Griffiths. You’d best be pre­pared.’ He fidgeted with the blotter. ‘Mrs Black is a self-professed heal­er and medium. According to the last two girls, very strange things hap­pen in her home.’

  His words came as a surprise but Emma was determined not to be put off. She’d rather put up with ghosts than continue to live at home or risk becoming the object of an old man’s lust again.

  As Emma sauntered across the footbridge over the Dee, a young woman brushed past her on the way into town. She murmured an apol­ogy and hurried on. Gazing after her, she felt certain it was Alice Moran. It was at least a month since she had last seen her. Was it possi­ble that she worked over this side of the river? Emma hoped she did, pleased at the thought of having someone she knew nearby – always assuming she got the job with the medium.

  Emma pushed open the gate into a garden that was bright with the last of the chrysanthemums. The house was much bigger than that of the Stones’. It had large bay windows on the ground floor and a shiny black front door. I reckon I could enjoy living in here, as long as it was­n’t too scary, thought Emma, as she pulled on the bell.

  The door opened almost immediately and the woman she had seen in the Servants’ Registry Office stood in the doorway. She had removed her hat and coat and was clad in a plain black skirt, a red blouse and a braided black velvet waistcoat. She gazed down at Emma in silence, and the girl was unnerved by that unblinking stare.

  ‘You’re here about the job. Do come in.’ Mrs Black smiled and stood to one side and, with a sweep of a large capable looking hand, waved Emma inside.

  Emma took a deep breath, crossed her fingers and stepped over the threshold into a large hall. Her eyes widened as she gazed on walls papered with golden dragons on a red flock background, she was entranced.

  ‘Upstairs,’ said Mrs Black, slipping past her and leading the way.

>   Emma followed her, sparing a glance to the doors up the lobby on the ground floor. She wondered what was down there. No doubt she would find out. She was led into a room on the first floor.

  Mrs Black went over to a French window, opened it and stepped outside. ‘I like to sit out here and watch people enjoying themselves,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘I have lodgers renting three of the rooms downstairs. Their view isn’t half as good as this. Do come and look.’

  Emma hurried over but hesitated to step outside onto the wrought iron balcony that overlooked the river. There didn’t appear to be much room for two people and she was scared of heights. Then she remind­ed herself that she needed this job and, not wanting Mrs Black to con­sider her a coward, took a deep breath and stepped outside. She stuck close to the wall of the house, resting a hand lightly against the brick­ work but even from where she stood, she could hear people’s voices and see the river. Although, at this time of year there were few enjoy­ing the pleasures of boating.

  ‘Are you interested in people, Miss… ?’

  ‘Griffiths. Emma Griffiths. Mr Jones told me about yer ghosts.’ As soon as the words were out Emma could have kicked herself. Discretion – that’s what this woman wanted in a servant. Perhaps she wouldn’t employ her now. ‘Sorry! I shouldn’t have said that,’ she said, grimacing.

  ‘Ghosts?’ Mrs Black shook her head sadly. ‘Those who have passed over are living souls, Emma. You must try and think of them as being just like you and me, needing to communicate with those they loved and who love them.’

  ‘I wish I could,’ said Emma bluntly. ‘Our poor Aggie…’ She stopped.

  ‘Go on,’ urged Mrs Black, her mud-coloured eyes intent on the girl’s face. Emma had not intended mentioning her sister and was unsure whether she wanted to talk about her to this woman. ‘Is Aggie your sis­ter? Has she passed over?’ Emma almost asked how did she know that, but then decided it wasn’t so clever of Mrs Black as she’d only picked up on her saying Our poor Aggie. Unexpectedly there was a twinkle in the older woman’s eyes. ‘I know what you’re thinking and you’re right. Come back inside and I’ll show you around. But you mustn’t close your mind, dear, to the possibility of finding some comfort in believing the spirit lives on. Your sister could be happy in the other world.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Black,’ said Emma politely. How could she believe Aggie was happy? She must have been deeply unhappy in her condition. Perhaps her spirit wasn’t at rest, and if this woman was right, then maybe she might try and get in touch with her.

  ‘An open mind and a closed mouth, as well as the usual chores that you would expect to do – and can you cook?’ Mrs Black’s voice brought Emma out of her reverie.

  ‘Nothing fancy, missus. I’m good at soups, scones and can do a roast.’

  ‘Bacon and eggs?’

  Emma smiled. ‘Sunday breakfast for me father – whereas us kids only ever saw a bit of bacon rind, if we were lucky.’

  ‘I see.’ Mrs Black paused a moment and then said, ‘I shall pay you two pounds a month and you’ll live in, of course.’

  Emma just managed to prevent her jaw from dropping. Junior male clerks on the railway were only paid five shillings a week and she’d have her board as well. What would this woman expect from her for all that? ‘It – it’s a lot of money,’ she stammered.

  Mrs Black smiled. ‘I’ll expect you to work hard for it. Now come this way.’

  Emma was shown a bathroom, Mrs Black’s bedroom, a room that she called the healing room and another where she did her sittings. Emma gazed about her, trying to sense if there was anybody there, aware that Mrs Black was watching her with a tiny smile playing about her mouth. Then she crooked a finger and Emma followed her up to the attics. She was shown to a bedroom in which the window was in the eaves and the ceiling slanted to a wall five feet from the floor on one side. The furniture consisted of a single bed, an armchair, a narrow wardrobe and a chest of drawers – on which stood a shaded oil lamp.

  Mrs Black opened the wardrobe door and indicated two plain gowns, one grey, one dark blue, as well as two white aprons, pinned to which were two frilled mop caps. ‘You might have to take up the hems. The last girl was a bit taller than you. There’s bed linen in the chest of drawers.’

  ‘Thank yer, missus.’

  Mrs Black sighed. ‘You will call me madam or Mrs Black… and try and say you not yer.’

  ‘Yeah, madam. I mean… Yes, madam.’ It was not the first time some­one had tried to improve Emma’s speech, so she took no offence. Her gaze shifted to the wall behind the bed where a framed text hung and read How great are His signs, how mighty His wonders.

  Mrs Black’s gaze followed hers. ‘There was a different one when I first took over the house. It read God’s eyes are always upon you. I presume it was to frighten the maid into making sure she did her job properly.’

  Emma nodded, remembering the text in her room at the Stones’, which had read Thou shalt not steal.

  Mrs Black led the way out of the bedroom and downstairs to the ground floor. She showed Emma the kitchen. It was fitted out with a gas cooker, as well as an old black range and there were shelves with plenty of pots, pans and dishes, and a walk-in larder. Under the stairs was a cupboard in which were stored the ironing board, mops, buckets, brushes and one of those new-fangled vacuum cleaners. She had noticed electric switches in the main rooms upstairs and guessed there must be plug sockets, as well, for the vacuum cleaner. She had never used a vac­uum cleaner before and felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

  Scarcely able to believe her good fortune, Emma was delighted when Mrs Black told her to go home and ask her parents for their permission to enter her employment. If they agreed, then Emma was to hand in her notice with her present employers and move into Mrs Black’s house as soon as possible.

  ‘Oh, they’ll agree,’ said Emma with a chuckle, thinking not half they would when they knew how much she was to be paid – although per­haps she wouldn’t tell them the exact amount, so she could start saving for a rainy day.

  Later, as Emma crossed the river, she was reminded of that glimpse of Alice earlier in the day. She hoped they’d meet again so she could tell her that at last she had found the situation she wanted.

  * * *

  Alice was late. Having been sent by Miss Victoria to order some leaflets to be printed, she had made a diversion afterwards and called on Hannah so she could see Tilly and discover if there was any more news about Bert. She had stayed too long, enjoying her small sister’s compa­ny, and discussing Bert. Kenny had walked with her as far as the bridge and then left her. She hurried on up the road to the crescent, wonder­ing if Seb would be home. More often than not he was in Liverpool, dealing with Mr Waters’ business matters. Victoria’s father was still enduring pain and difficulty walking. This made him grumpy and he attempted to drown his sorrows by drinking too much, which, accord­ing to Gabrielle, was adding to his health problems.

  Alice reached the front gate, breathless with having rushed across town. She paused for a moment to get her breath back and found her­self remembering the first time she had seen Seb in this very garden.

  As if the thought had conjured him up, he suddenly appeared from behind the motorcar, wiping his hands on an oily rag. She almost jumped out of her skin, and her mouth felt dry, and she was conscious of her dishevelled appearance as they gazed at each other without speaking.

  ‘You’ve been ages.’ His voice was brusque.

  ‘I’m surprised you noticed.’ She pushed open the gate and would have walked through if he had not seized her arm. ‘Miss Victoria has had one of her turns and was asking for you.’

  Immediately, Alice was all concern. ‘Has the doctor been sent for?’

  He nodded. ‘Fortunately I was able to stay with her until the medi­ cine did its job.’

  ‘Good for you,’ said Alice tartly, attempting to free herself but his grip tightened.

  ‘There’s no need to take that tone.’ He frowned.
‘Why did you have to take a job here?’

  There was no way Alice was going to answer that honestly. ‘I became interested in the emancipation of women and I needed a place to live when Dolly’s husband came home from India because there was no room for me at Granny Popo’s. Satisfied?’

  ‘No! Why here? And what happened to your father?’

  Alice raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘I thought Miss Victoria might have told you by now – he’s in a lunatic asylum.’

  ‘No!’ He looked taken aback. ‘How did that happen?’

  Alice hesitated. ‘It’s a long story and I’ve got no time to go into it now. Miss Victoria will be wondering where I am, so will you please let me go?’

  He looked about to say something more but she wrenched her arm out of his grasp and ran up the path and round the side of the house. Immediately, she was aware of raised voices and thought she heard Mrs Black, as well as Miss Victoria, mentioned. Opening the kitchen door, Alice, instantly, found herself the focus of three pairs of eyes.

  ‘I know you! Do you work here?’ asked Mrs Waters, an upright, tightly corseted figure in a lilac twilled-cotton gown, who was sitting at the kitchen table with her son. The woman was definitely losing her marbles, thought Alice, wondering what she and her son were doing there.

  Gabrielle scowled at her. ‘Surely it did not take you all this time to order some leaflets from the printers?’ she snapped.