The Sunday Girls

by Maureen Reynolds

  ‘Well, our secret is out,’ said Maddie with an exaggerated sigh. ‘My mother was also on the stage and in films. Although she’s much younger than Eva, they often starred in the same production. Also, like Eva, my mother was quite famous in her younger days before she gave it up to marry my father. Miss Hood worked in the wardrobe department of the theatre and she also travelled to America with Eva for a short spell.’

  I sat enthralled on my bed, visualising this wonderful glamorous world so far removed from my own.

  Maddie went on, ‘Although nothing has been said to me, I heard a whisper one day that Miss Hood carries a dark secret.’ She stopped to let this statement drop like a brick between us. I gasped and Maddie lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Yes, it was some kind of scandal or a mysterious secret that happened in America – or maybe it was in London. At least that was what I gathered from the snippet I overheard years ago.’

  ‘A secret scandal,’ I said, not believing a word of it. I could never imagine the colourless housekeeper with a scandalous past – not in a million years.

  Maddie placed her chin on her hands and gazed unblinkingly at me. ‘Well, that’s the story. Anyway, that’s not what I came to see you about,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘I want to hear all your news.’

  I told her all about the sad saga of Dad and Marlene. ‘That was what all the fuss was about when you came to the Overgate on Sunday night, Maddie.’

  ‘You know something, Ann?’ she said. ‘We’re almost the same age but you have so much on your shoulders – so much to cope with. I led such a sheltered life until Danny appeared and showed me a different world. That’s why I’m going to be a nurse when I leave school.’ She looked at me. ‘You can be one as well. We’ll do our training together.’ She sat cross-legged on my eiderdown and looked at me with a serious face. ‘Well, what about it?’

  ‘Oh, no, Maddie, I could never be a nurse. No, my ideal job would be with books. A job in the library would be a dream for me.’

  She smiled, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘All right, then, I’ll be caring Nurse Pringle and you’ll be the wonderful Brainy Bookworm Neill. There now, that’s settled.’ She delved into her bag and produced a pile of dressmaker’s paper patterns. ‘Look at these lovely clothes Ann. Mother has bought a new treadle sewing machine and I’m allowed to use it. I have a dentist’s appointment next Monday so I’ll be off school. Let’s meet up afterwards and look at material. We can soon make a fashionable wardrobe to wear.’

  The patterns were certainly fashionable and there were clothes for every conceivable occasion.

  ‘How do you fancy starting off with a pair of camiknickers?’ she said, holding aloft the packet. ‘I think we’ll start off with these. After all, how can Danny resist me when he sees these?’

  I found myself blushing. ‘Maddie, that’s terrible.’

  ‘No, it’s not. I know he likes me but he also likes you.’ Her face dropped. ‘Can cousins get married?’ She sounded doubtful.

  I gave her a playful push. ‘Even if they can, Danny and I are not planning a big step like that. Anyway we’re too close and we can read each other’s minds. No, he’s my best friend and he’ll always be that – even when we’re old and grey-haired.’

  This pleased her. ‘Right, then, Danny’s mine and the first plan is the camiknickers. Agreed?’

  I shook my head at her. She was incorrigible. Suddenly a low whistle came from under the window. It was Mr Pringle standing with his overcoat collar up and his soft hat catching a mini torrent of rainwater as it gushed from the guttering. He shook himself like a dog emerging from a river.

  ‘We’re leaving now, Maddie. I’ll nip in and tell Eva about her broken rone pipe.’

  Maddie jumped up. ‘I’ll meet you at two o’clock at D. M. Brown’s door on Monday.’

  On that command, she ran quickly from the room and I watched as they made their way to the car. At the gate, they turned and threw a cheery wave in my direction and I was grateful for all their help and concern. I prayed that Mr Pringle would perhaps find a job for Dad but, after all, he was a solicitor, not a miracle worker.

  I lay in bed, trying hard not to think about Dad and all his problems but he kept popping into my mind. Still, Lily was over her bad dose of the cold and it wasn’t the dreaded whooping cough as Granny had suspected.

  Needless to say, Miss Hood hounded me every day until Friday when she appeared in the kitchen, all dolled up in a matching ensemble of skirt, jumper and long-line cardigan. It was very smart except it was in the most unflattering shade of beige. Set against her grey hair and pale complexion, it made her look absolutely washed out – as anaemic as a stick of seaside rock with all the colour sucked out, as Granny would say. She slapped a list on the table and snapped, ‘That’s your list of chores.’

  Jean lifted her head from the stove and squinted at it. ‘You’re not leaving much time for eating and sleeping and breathing, are you?’

  She ignored her and swept out through the door. I gazed at the list and my heart sank even although I was expecting it. She seemed to find more work with each passing day. Still there was one consolation – she wouldn’t be here and peering over my shoulder all the time. Later, as Jean was busy in the kitchen with her baking, Mrs Barrie and I sat in the morning room, following the exciting adventures of Lord Peter Wimsey.

  When I reached denouement, she shook herself as if cold and said, ‘I didn’t think that he would turn out to be the murderer, Ann, did you? I love exciting mystery stories. They add a bit of sparkle to my dull life,’ she laughed.

  I agreed with her as I had also thought the culprit was someone else. She stood up and I helped her up the wide staircase. She always had a short nap before tea.

  ‘I’m glad we have this time together, Ann,’ she said, as we entered her bedroom. ‘I’d better pay you now instead of on Sunday – just in case Lottie gets wind of our little arrangement. She handed over a crisp ten-shilling note and a half crown.

  I protested about the extra money but she smiled. ‘No, I want your little sister to have something – a children need so much when they are growing up.’

  ‘Oh, she’s getting so big now, Mrs Barrie. Granny says I’ve to make sure and thank you for all your kindness. Lily isn’t walking yet and Aunt Hattie keeps on at Grandad for letting her stay in her pram. Hattie says she’ll never walk at this rate but Granny thinks she’s just ashamed of the pram because it’s scratched and scruffy.’ I was quite happy to chatter on about Lily because I knew Mrs Barrie was always interested in her well-being. It wasn’t just a polite act but a genuine interest.

  She moved over to the large, ornately carved wardrobe which almost covered an entire wall. ‘Now, Ann, I don’t want to insult you by thinking you only have one coat – your trench coat. I would like to give you an old coat of mine which I never wear now. We’re about the same height and shape so it should fit you.’

  My heart sank. I knew I couldn’t turn down this unexpected gift and she would expect me to wear something old and frumpish – a coat suitable for an old lady. Because of this preconceived notion, I almost swooned with delight when she produced the most wonderful coat I had ever set eyes on. It was a deep russet shade, similar to a ripe autumn apple, made in soft wool with pale apricot fur collar and cuffs. I tried it on in front of the long wardrobe mirror and it looked fabulous. I turned, my eyes shining. ‘Mrs Barrie, it’s lovely but I can’t take it. This coat must have cost a lot of money …’

  She didn’t let me finish and held up her hand. ‘Shush, now. I want you to have it as it’s just cluttering up my wardrobe.’ She bent down and brought out a shoebox. ‘These are a matching pair of shoes and a handbag.’ She extricated a pair of russet coloured shoes with a small heel and a bag which was no bigger than an average sized purse. They matched the coat exactly.

  We obviously had the same foot size because the shoes fitted like a glove and I preened myself in front of the mirror, first turning one way then another. No matter
which side of me was mirrored, I looked elegant. I was still doubtful about taking them but, when she mentioned maybe putting them into the church jumble sale, I smiled my thanks. ‘Thank you very much, Mrs Barrie.’

  ‘No, thank you, Ann, for giving me so much pleasure with your reading. You bring the story alive – so much so that I can almost imagine the murderer is in the room with us.’ She lay down on her bed. ‘We’ll start another story tonight if that’s all right.’

  She closed her eyes and I ran down the stairs with the lovely coat over my arm. Jean looked at me with surprise as I almost careered into her. Her eyes opened wide when she saw my goodies. ‘Oh, it fair suits you and it sets of your bonny black hair. You look like Pola Negri – she’s a film star.’

  She looked on in admiration as I twirled around the room. ‘Aye, she’s a right generous woman is Mrs Barrie. She offered me some clothes when I started here but of course I was too plump so she gave me some lovely ornaments for the house – just bonny wee knick-knacks but I treasure them because they’ve been given with a good heart. Not like Lady Snootynose.’

  I explained how Maddie had christened her Creepy-Crawly and Jean laughed so much she had to sit down.

  ‘It’s time for our afternoon tea and some hot home-made scones,’ she said, buttering a large scone and placing a dollop of jam on the top. ‘Maybe I should stop eating fattening things like these and I could fit into a lovely coat like that.’ She ate the remains of her calorie-laden scone and licked her fingers. ‘Or maybe I’ll not bother – I like my food too much.’

  As I carefully carried my coat upstairs to my room, Jean called after me, ‘Make sure you hide it from Her Ladyship, Ann. Don’t let her see it.’

  That was my intention. Although I planned to wear my new outfit on Sunday, I was going to leave the house dressed in my old trench coat. Then, when out of sight of the house, I would change into my fabulous fashion creation.

  What Creepy didn’t know wouldn’t harm her, I thought.

  9

  When I was in the isolation of my bedroom, I wondered where I would hide my coat. The black spectre memory of Miss Hood was still fresh in my mind and I wondered what her reaction would be should she spot it. Would she, in one of her dark rages, assume that I had stolen it and perhaps tear it from my back causing havoc, as she had with the book? This image made me all the more determined to hide it from her and not let her cold, fishlike eyes ever see it. Still, in spite of this secrecy, I couldn’t resist the urge to try it on again. Once again I was entranced to see the instant transformation from a gawky thin girl to a svelte creature who could well have graced the stage or screen – at least I thought so.

  I grinned at the mirror. ‘Don’t be daft,’ I told my reflection, mentally scolding myself for my foolishness. But one thing was crystal clear – the feel of this luxurious coat was no dream. It must have cost Mrs Barrie a fortune and she had given it to me. I couldn’t believe my good luck.

  That night I came to an arrangement with Jean. The next day, she would bring her largest message bag into work and she would smuggle out my treasures, leaving me to sally forth in my ancient trench coat.

  But there was another financial worry looming on the horizon – the folding pushchair. Jean had seen it advertised in the post-office window. ‘It’ll be just the thing for your wee sister,’ she had told me that afternoon, her mouth full of delicious home-made cake. ‘I know Mrs King, the woman who’s selling it, and she keeps a right clean house so it’ll not be in a dirty condition. In fact, it’ll be a right good buy, Ann.’

  I had almost burst out laughing at this glowing testimonial, the memory of Lily’s first pram still fresh in my memory. However I remained silent.

  Jean chattered on. ‘I think she’s asking seven and a tanner for it but maybe she’ll let you pay a wee bit every week till it’s paid up.’

  I didn’t want to tell Jean that the sum of seven and sixpence was well nigh impossible for me to find but, on the other hand, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. That was why, after the Saturday night chores were finished and before Mrs Barrie and I started another detective novel, we both made our way to view the pram.

  Mrs King eagerly pointed out all its sterling qualities and I had to admit it was in excellent condition. In fact it looked quite new and well worth the asking price. The pushchair’s pristine condition was probably due to the fact that it hadn’t been hauled up a couple of flights of stairs because the front door of Mrs King’s cottage led directly on to the street.

  We sat in her tiny front room on fireside chairs that were as hard as a board, almost as if the original cushioned padding had long since disappeared into the blue yonder.

  ‘I did say I wanted seven and sixpence for it but I’m willing to drop the price to six shillings if you’re interested.’

  She pushed the pram back and forth over the well-polished linoleum as if further extolling its virtues. She nodded to Jean who reclined in her chair with a comfortable expression on her face. Maybe, I thought, she didn’t feel the hardness because of her natural padding.

  The woman said, ‘I can keep it aside for you if you like and you can pay me a shilling or whatever a week.’ She glanced once more at Jean and I realised they had discussed my financial circumstances but I wasn’t angry. No one could ever be angry at Jean’s kindness and, after all, beggars couldn’t be choosers. So we struck a deal there and then.

  ‘I’ll be here with the first shilling tomorrow, Mrs King, before I go home.’

  I had done some quick thinking and I had already made up mind on how I could pay this money up. I would walk home to the Overgate and walk back to Whitegate Lodge every week. That way, Granny wouldn’t be burdened by trying to make ends meet on less money.

  There was also the worry about Grandad having to manhandle the big pram up and down the stairs every day. Now, with this lighter, folding model and the thought of the approaching warmer weather, it would prove to be a real boon to the family.

  The following afternoon was nerve-racking. Miss Hood appeared, dressed in a bilious green outfit. She almost had a purple fit when I marched out with no mention of wages.

  Jean was waiting for me in the courtyard, surrounded by a clutch of blackbirds who were gorging on the scattered crumbs. She was clutching her outsize bag. She laughed. ‘I thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head – speak about having apoplexy! And did you hear yon strangled wee cry she gave?’

  I hadn’t heard a sound and I said so, my mind concentrating on walking away from the birds.

  ‘Well, maybe she didn’t,’ Jean conceded with a deep chuckle. ‘But I bet she mentally said it and did you see she almost burst into tears? I’ll bet a tanner on it.’

  Danny was waiting for me once again and, to my delight, he was carrying Lily. She seemed to be fascinated by the sound of the sea and her clear blue eyes were transfixed in puzzlement as she twisted her head in its direction.

  ‘Oh would you look at the lovely wee babby?’ crooned Jean, holding out her arms to take her.

  Lily responded by blowing a stream of frothy bubbles. Meanwhile I could hardly contain myself as I wanted to tell Danny all about my lovely new coat and also the imminent purchase of the pushchair.

  Almost as if she read my mind, Jean said, ‘Ann, let me buy the pram for Lily now and you can pay me just as easily as Mrs King.’

  I was mortified. ‘Oh, no, Jean, six shillings is a lot of money.’

  She was adamant. ‘Honestly, if I couldn’t afford it I wouldn’t have offered. Let’s go round and pick it up right now.’

  Danny looked at me in puzzlement as we trooped round to the cottage. We all stood in a circle on the pavement at Mrs King’s front door as the woman wheeled it out. Jean strapped Lily into it while Mrs King produced the gabardine cover that hooked on to the hood to keep out inclement weather. She then added a bonus of three cosy checked blankets, pocketed the money and gave us a cheery wave.

  Before setting off down her lane, Jean handed over her
bag while I paid the first instalment of a shilling. Now we had this new pram, the world was our oyster.

  Hattie was at the Overgate when we arrived. Her expression beamed approval at the new acquisition. ‘Compared to that monstrosity over there, anything would be an improvement,’ she said, nodding towards the big pram that lay beside the bed.

  On the other hand, Grandad was so impressed that he immediately put on his overcoat and cap and headed off with Lily.

  Then Hattie spotted my coat in the bag. Her eyes widened with undisguised delight and she swooped on it with a cry of joy. ‘Let me try it on. It’ll fit me, I’m sure.’ She slipped the coat over her slender shoulders and almost purred. ‘What did I tell you? It fits like it was made for me.’

  The shoes also fitted and she pranced around the kitchen almost crooning. ‘I’ve always wanted a coat like this. It’s cashmere, don’t you know? And real fur. None of your ordinary rabbit fur here. I’m sure it’s fox fur or it could even be sable although that’s usually a dark fur.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper as she mentioned the word sable.

  To say I was annoyed was an understatement. I quickly took the coat from her. ‘Well, it’s mine, Hattie,’ I said quite firmly, making sure she was in no doubt about it.

  But she was determined to have my present and she pleaded. ‘I’ll swap my new grey woollen coat and a new pair of shoes and a good hand-knitted cardigan.’ Her voice held a strange wheedling tone that I had never heard before but I was determined to stand firm.

  ‘No, Hattie, they’re gifts from Mrs Barrie and she says I’ve to wear them because she’ll get pleasure from seeing me in them.’ I knew this was a white lie but I could visualise my lovely gifts being swept away in front of my eyes by my auntie.

  Suddenly, as if tired of all this female bickering, Danny stood up to leave. ‘Honestly, you women are crazy about clothes. Imagine argy-bargying over a coat.’ His eyes were full of wonder at the secret minds of his womenfolk. ‘Mind you, I think Ann suits the coat better than you, Mum.’