“This is all perfect,” Angela said, “and much more than I expected.”
“Good, good,” he said, “we want to make sure you are comfortable here.” He held a finger up now as he thought of something. “We have a television set in the main sitting room at the front. I’ve become quite addicted to it – never imagined I would at all. I held out from having one installed for a while, but now I can see what they were all raving about. You’re welcome to watch it any time. There’s a listing in the newspapers every day.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Angela said, trying not to smile at the thought of him just discovering television.
“You will have to make the house your own home now,” he told her. “And we have enough room to ensure you have your privacy. Don’t want you to think that we live in each other’s pockets. Out of your working hours, you can, of course, come and go as you please.”
She was suddenly conscious of it being Monday, when she would be working her way through a pile of filing back in her old office. She looked at her watch and saw it was half past eleven.
“When would you like me to start?” she asked. “I’m ready whenever you are. I can unpack later.”
“There’s no rush,” he said. “Take some time to settle in – we can discuss where things are up to with the research in a while.”
The men came back with the last box and her cases, and Angela, feeling delighted with everything, had a change of heart and gave the driver the tip she had kept for him.
“I’ll leave you to unpack,” Major Harrington said, “and you can come down to the kitchen when you’re ready and I’ll introduce you to Mrs Girvin and Miss Sweeney.” He smiled. “We have to keep on the right side of the housekeeping staff as I would never manage to hold this old place together without them.”
Major Harrington went out with the two men, and Angela closed the sitting-room door behind them and then turned to look at her room once again. She smiled and clasped her hands together. She had a good feeling about Moorhill House. This was a new start for her and nothing, she decided, was going to spoil it for her.
She was unpacking the last box of books when Major Harrington came back, his face quite serious. “I hope you don’t mind, Miss Tracey, but I have an important question for you.”
She looked at him, wondering what could be wrong.
“Would you prefer tea or coffee? Mrs Girvin asked me to check.”
She smiled in relief. Hopefully, she would get used to his odd manner. “Tea would be lovely.”
They went down the corridor on the other side of the staircase to the kitchen and Angela was introduced to the two women, who she found to be nice and friendly. Eileen Sweeney, she thought, was around the same age as herself, and had a room upstairs in the house. In the office, most of the women were older so it would be nice to have younger company to go to Mass with.
She thought she wouldn’t mention Mass to the Girvins as she wasn’t sure whether they were Catholic or not, because the name wasn’t one she was familiar with. Being from the North and working for an Englishman, they could easily be Protestant.
The kitchen reminded her of the one at the family house in Tullamore, only much bigger. It had green-painted dressers lining the wall filled with crockery and glassware, and a long scrubbed pine table which she reckoned could easily seat over a dozen people.
“It would be preferable if you bring the tea up to the library,” the major said to Mrs Girvin. He smiled. “Did I detect the smell of freshly baked scones earlier?”
“You did,” she said. “I thought Miss Tracey might be ready for something after her move out to the house. I’ll bring you some with the tea.”
In the library there were three shelves of books which Major Harrington told Angela had information about his family in, going back to the seventeenth century. The problem was, he said, that although each of the books contained similar details, some of the information was contradictory. There were also other books which contained references to people or land that he had never heard of, and that needed to be followed up. Angela, he hoped, would go through each book and note down the information contained in each. She suggested that she then type it up, making a carbon copy so they could both go through the notes together. He thought this was splendid and said it would save them constantly lifting the heavy books. Some of his family had lived in Cheshire and some had lived in London, and there were more books, documents and deeds pertaining to the Harringtons and other related families over in England.
Eileen Sweeney came in with the tea and scones and, whilst they ate and drank, the major continued to talk Angela through the project. He explained about his intention to leave behind a comprehensive history of his family that could be easily understood for future generations of the family.
“A lot of the information to date is dry and dusty,” he told her, “relating more to buildings and events as opposed to real people – which is where my interest lies. I know there are some damn good stories about interesting characters in our families. The ones we hear most about are the great and the good – the clergy, the army men and the like. But we also have gamblers, thieves and vagabonds – and that’s the sort of thing I am going to include.” He suddenly stopped. “It won’t be unnecessarily salacious of course. I’ll handle any sensitive information about illegitimacy and legal wrangles with discretion, but I do want it to be about real people. Far more interesting than the carefully edited stuff in most books – don’t you think?” He stopped now to take a bite of his buttered scone.
Angela thought there was no point in pretending to know what he was talking about. She knew she would eventually be found out if she did. “I don’t have any experience of family histories,” she told him, “but it certainly sounds interesting.”
“I’m delighted you think so,” he said, then went on to tell her about a Victorian ancestor who had gambled his way through a stately home and two fortunes and then went on the run to France, fleeing debtors. As he talked he grew more animated about his subject, and Angela noticed that something about him – the look in his eyes, she thought – made him look younger than she had previously thought. He was certainly much older than her, but probably not as old as her mother. As her mind flitted back to her mother and home, she thought how shocked the family would be to hear Major Harrington talking in such a casual manner about his family and the indiscretions of his ancestors. Most families, she knew, would never bring up topics of discussion which would include anything scandalous or which might show their backgrounds in a dim light.
They finished off their tea and scones and Angela put the crockery they had used on the tray and put it on a table by the door.
“I thought if we made a start on the documents we have to hand,” the major said, “then we can file it and compare it with whatever we find when we visit Manchester and London next month.”
Angela caught her breath. “Next month?”
“Yes, I have a function over in London at the end of the month, so I thought we could take the ferry to Wales and carry on over to Thornley Manor in Cheshire for a week and then go down to London for a further week.” He paused. “Have you any plans for the end of next month?”
Angela thought quickly. “I was planning to go home for a weekend, but I can easily do that before we go.”
“Splendid,” the major said. He went over to the shelf and came out with a heavy tome, which he told her gave details of all the settlements in Cheshire at the time of the Domesday survey. “We’ll make a start now, because I would like to have covered most of the information I have here before our trip.” He put the book down on the table with a dusty thud and then opened the pages. “I think this particular book has the earliest entries about some of the families we’re descended from.”
Angela thought the book, full of small print, looked like the sort of thing a university professor would study – much more complicated than anything she had imagined. She hoped now that she hadn’t bitten off more than she could c
hew with the work involved in Major Harrington’s project. He talked her through some of the pages he had already studied and marked with stickers, explaining how some of the family lines disappeared in previous centuries through lack of a male successor and how houses relating to certain families were sold up through economic pressure. The way he explained it to her made it seem more understandable and more interesting. An hour flew by whilst they examined the information in the book about the major’s family and some of the other families he was related to.
By the time Mrs Girvin came down to tell them that lunch would be ready in the dining room shortly, Angela felt that she had some grasp on what she was doing, and she knew she would keep at it until she fully understood it. She liked the major’s human attitude to things, and something told her that this work was already beginning to open up a side of life she didn’t even know existed. For years she had felt excluded from the family life she should have had with her parents and sisters, and her bout of polio had left her excluded from many things that girls of her age had been part of. But, for some reason, fate had decided that she was now going to move into a world that was different from anything she knew.
Of course she knew the major was odd and eccentric – she had known that from the first few minutes of meeting him – but there was something about his unpredictability that she warmed to. She also knew that travelling with him over to England would probably not be as straightforward as she might want it to be. She was aware that his relations were unlikely to be as open and friendly with ordinary people as he was, and she might not find them as welcoming. For some reason it did not worry her. She already liked the work, and she knew as time went on she would grow more confident with it. The idea of tracking down houses and tracing the stories of people back in time – in Ireland and England and maybe even further afield – was exciting.
She wondered what her family would make of it when she explained it to them. And then, it struck her that this feeling of an exciting, new future opening in front of her – like a jet soaring up into a clear blue sky – was exactly what Fiona had been feeling when she had dreamed of moving to New York. She now realised how much Fiona had given up for their mother – all her hopes and dreams. She now realised how much Fiona had lost.
But, she thought, if their mother was getting better, maybe things could go back to how they were before their father died, with her working in the shop and Patrick running the bar.
Fiona was in regular touch with Michael O’Sullivan, letters were flying several times a week across the Atlantic between them. He was hoping to come back to Ireland again in July to see how work was going with the old cottage in Connemara. Fiona said he was hoping to stay for a few weeks to get the cottage decorated and furnished before his mother came over in August.
Although Fiona’s plans hadn’t worked out the first time around, Angela had a feeling that things might begin to change again.
Chapter 36
There was a tap on the office door.
“Angela?” Major Harrington said. “If you don’t mind me disturbing you...”
“Not at all, come in.” Angela sat back in her typing chair, thinking how very different things had turned out to be in her new job. She had started off as Miss Tracey, and had imagined that her formal title was how it would remain, but gradually it had changed and she had now been referred to by the major and the house staff as ‘Angela’ for the last two weeks.
He came into the centre of the room, waving a sheet of paper. “I have the itinerary for our trip worked out now,” he told her, “and if it is all right with you, we’ll be spending three weeks in England.” He raised his eyebrows in question.
“That’s perfectly fine with me, Major,” she said, smiling. It was much more than fine – she was actually excited at the thought of this trip. She was looking forward to the boat trip and to the drive through Wales and across into England.
He came into the room and pulled a chair over to sit down beside her desk. “I did a quick handwritten copy which I thought you might type out for us, and make a few carbon copies. We’ll need one for each of us, and one to leave with the staff.” He paused. “I told you I had a function in London, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you mentioned it.”
“Well, it’s the middle week we’re over, which would mean staying in Cheshire for a week, going down to London the middle week, and then finishing off with the last week in Cheshire again.” He held his chin in his hand. “I have some friends and family I should catch up with while I’m over, but I’m conscious that you might find the evenings very boring on your own in the hotel. So, if you don’t mind, I thought we might incorporate some shift-work, where you might have some time off during the day and then do your work in the evenings.”
She felt unsure as to what exactly the major was suggesting but, in the time she had been working with him, she had learned that things usually worked out, albeit in a roundabout way.
“I’m happy to work whatever hours suit you,” she said, “and I actually have a cousin working in London – Harrow – so it would be nice if I could see him while were are there.” She had promised her Aunt Catherine that if it worked out, she would try to meet up with Joseph and see how he was getting on.
“I thought, since you’ve never been to London before, that it would also be a perfect opportunity for us to do a little sightseeing.” He smiled at her. “I haven’t been around places like the Tower of London or the Natural History Museum for a number of years, and I think you would particularly like the Victoria and Albert Museum. How would you feel about that?”
Angela stared at him, not sure what to say. It was not the first time her employer had taken her by surprise. But, she had learned that the best way to deal with these sorts of situations was to be straight and honest with him. “I’m very happy to carry on with my work while you are meeting up with people. I can continue with my notes whether it’s in the house in Manchester or in a hotel in London. I don’t mind working during the day or in the evenings.” She took a deep breath. “And really, you don’t need to feel concerned about me at all. My role is to be a help to you, not a drawback. I’m quite able to fill my own time. I’ve lived on my own for some time and it’s no problem to me. I will have my books with me and I’m happy to take little walks out by myself.”
“I don’t think I’ve explained myself very well,” he said. “It’s not a matter of you being an inconvenience, Angela. Quite the contrary. I would not be bringing you over to England with me if you weren’t a major help. And it would be a great pleasure to me to have your company whilst I’m in London.”
“In that case,” she said, “I’d be very happy to go along with your plans. I would love to have a look around London.”
His face lit up. “And you needn’t worry about it being a strain on your leg. We can drive around from place to place and we’ll make sure any walks aren’t too strenuous for either of us.”
“Thank you,” she said.
As she sat typing out the itinerary, it occurred to Angela how lucky she had been with her employers since she had entered the world of work. They had all one way or another, due to the involvement of the Polio Fellowship or other groups for people with physical handicaps, made it as easy as possible for her to work in the same way as any other secretary. She had thought the move to a more independent office working for the major might not have the same support but, in fact, it had turned out to be the opposite. He seemed to anticipate any physical difficulties she might encounter and planned ahead for them, and there were times when Angela thought he was even more conscientious about it than she was herself.
The only drawback about the job was that it couldn’t last forever. His memoirs and family history research she thought might stretch to two years – three at most. After that, she would not be needed. She had a sense of disappointment about this, because it was way and above the most interesting work she had ever done. She had discovered an interest in old buildings she never knew she h
ad, and she found all the stuff about Major Harrington’s family fascinating. The stories of the eccentric individuals were not only interesting but at times entertaining. And whilst she and the major were vastly different in backgrounds and in age, she had discovered in the short time she had worked for him that they had a similar sense of humour.
The night before they set off for England, Angela checked through her suitcase again.
Considering it was now summer, the weather was not at all what it should be or what she had anticipated when she started packing the previous week. She had filled her case with summer dresses and blouses and skirts. Gradually, she had taken some of the lighter things out, and had replaced them with sweaters and cardigans.
She had also had several shopping trips with Maureen and Jeanette into Grafton Street and had bought the slacks everyone had suggested, and was delighted to find that they covered her calliper very well. She had also bought several bright tunics which worked well with slacks or skirts, and something she never imagined she would fall in love with – a cornflower blue and cream sleeveless, polyester jumpsuit. It had wide legs, and large patch pockets on the front which were piped in cream, and it had a deep V-neck with a crossover fastening that emphasised her tiny waist.
The minute she tried it on, she knew she would buy it. The girls loved it on her and the colour, the style, everything was perfect. Just looking at it made her heart lift. Whether she would have the opportunity to wear it or not, she didn’t know, but she bought it anyway.
“Well, who said she wasn’t modern or daring?” Maureen laughed.
“I’ve surprised myself,” Angela had told her. “And do you know something? I’ve enjoyed it so much, I might just start surprising myself more!”
A Letter From America Page 31