by Evie Grace
‘I will say what needs to be said. The sound of your voice gives me a headache.’
‘It’s the gin,’ Aunt Temperance said. ‘I told you not to go out last night.’
‘It isn’t your place to tell me what to do.’
Rose thought back to Ma and Pa and how she had rarely heard a cross word pass between them.
‘You should take a leaf out of Arthur’s book and get yourself round to the office early every morning.’
‘There’s no point when the clerk isn’t in until nine. Anyway, I’m not sure I can bear to look at the books today. It’s the end of the month and the sales are down – dropped like a stone into the Stour. For the first time in the tannery’s history, the losses appear to have wiped out the profits.’
‘How can that be?’ Aunt Temperance said. ‘The figures have to be wrong. It’s that new clerk – he can’t add up. I told you it was a mistake to hire him when you had all those other applicants, but when do you ever listen to me?’
‘I know his father very well. He came highly recommended.’
‘Your judgement is affected when you’re in your cups, my dear,’ his wife said sarcastically. ‘Anyway, what is all this about losses? I trusted you when you said you could run the business with your eyes closed.’
‘I know what I’m doing. I’ve had years of experience with the gaffer, and before that with your grandfather. It will shake down after a while.’
‘It better had. You aren’t getting any younger and we must feather our nest while we can.’ Aunt Temperance turned to Minnie. ‘Don’t slouch or you’ll end up a hunchback. And Rose, wipe that silly expression off your face – it will stay there if the wind changes.’
Rose forced a smile but there was nothing that could change how she felt at having heard their conversation. The tannery would be flourishing if they’d only let Arthur take hold of the reins, she thought angrily. She could see why Pa had refused to take Mr Kingsley on as his business partner in the past.
Mr Kingsley went to his office and Aunt Temperance headed into Canterbury to call on an acquaintance, leaving Minnie and Rose to help Jane make the beds. Rose took the clean sheets from the linen cupboard and carried them into the Kingsleys’ bedroom.
‘You take the pillowcases off and I’ll strip the bed, Minnie,’ she said, tearing the sheets off the mattress and piling them on the floor. She unfolded a fresh white undersheet and spread it across the bed, folding and tucking the corners. She took a second one and put that on top, folding it up short.
‘You’ve done that wrong,’ Minnie said helpfully, coming across to open it up again.
‘No, leave it. It’s as I intended.’ Rose hadn’t been sure that she was going to go through with her plan, but she remembered Mr Kingsley’s behaviour the night before and a sense of injustice swelled inside her. What had he been trying to do to poor Jane? She knew it wasn’t right, whatever it was. He was a lecherous old man in a position of power imposing himself on a sweet and innocent young woman. ‘Fetch me the lavender water.’
Minnie brought the cut-glass bottle over from the dressing table.
‘Take the stopper off.’ Rose watched her sister fumble with the lid. ‘Now tip it out over the sheets. All of it.’
‘Our aunt won’t like that.’ Minnie frowned.
‘She isn’t supposed to.’ Rose smiled, but her bravery was beginning to desert her. It was a childish act, something Donald would have done.
‘She’ll notice that it’s empty.’
‘Never mind. Fill it up with water.’ Rose plumped the pillows and replaced the woollen blanket and coverlet, swapping her aunt’s summer bedding for her winter eiderdown, and putting the coverlet away in the chest at the end of the bed with a few drops of camphor moth-repellent. ‘That will do.’
‘I don’t envy you when she finds out.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘What do you think Mr Kingsley did to Jane last night?’ Minnie said, biting her lip. ‘I don’t like him, Rose.’
‘Neither do I, but don’t worry. I won’t let him lay a finger on you. Come on – we have more beds to change and then I thought we’d go down to the market for the shopping.’
By the end of the day, Rose had forgotten about the bed. It wasn’t until ten o’clock when the Kingsleys had retired that the sound of her aunt shouting for Jane reminded her of it. A series of explosive snorts and sneezes followed.
‘Rose, this is your fault,’ Minnie hissed from where she was lying under her covers. ‘What are you going to do now?’
‘Face the music, I suppose.’ She jumped out of bed and hurried downstairs in her nightgown to the landing where Jane was at the door of the Kingsleys’ room, experiencing the full force of her aunt’s anger.
‘I haven’t done nothing,’ she was saying as the flame of her candle flickered and trembled in a draught of cold air. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, mistress.’
‘You have made us an apple-pie bed and now Mr Kingsley has broken his toenail, putting it through my best heavyweight winter sheet, which is torn right through. Jane, you must go. I can’t bear to see your face again.’
Rose pushed past the maid. ‘It wasn’t Jane. It was me.’
‘Of course, it wasn’t,’ her aunt snarled.
‘Why would she confess to something she hasn’t done?’ Mr Kingsley said. Rose could see him in the light of the oil lamp on the dressing table, sitting on the edge of the bed in his gown and nightcap, doubled up with a handkerchief pressed to his nose, and clutching his big toe.
‘This is her misguided and rather ridiculous attempt to save Jane’s bacon.’
‘It’s the truth,’ Rose insisted.
‘You mustn’t do this, miss. I’ve had enough of working here anyway, of being dragged out of bed at all hours to be mauled by a loose-lipped, dribbling drunk.’ Jane took off her apron and threw it down on the floor.
‘No, you can’t,’ Rose said. ‘Please don’t do this. Don’t leave on my account.’
Jane turned to her, an expression of pity on her face. ‘I’m sorry. I wanted to stay, but I’m completely drained – I can’t do this any longer. You’ll be all right, miss – you have your brothers to protect you.’
‘Go on then, seeing as you’ve made your mind up.’ Aunt Temperance bent down, picked up the apron and threw it at Jane so it landed on her head, covering her face. In a slow, dignified manner, the maid removed it and screwed it up into a ball. ‘Pack your belongings and get out of here forthwith.’
‘But it’s late,’ Rose said quickly.
‘Never mind. I’ll go straight to my mother’s – she’s only round the corner.’ Jane turned and fled downstairs. Rose made to follow her.
‘Where are you going?’ Aunt Temperance said.
‘To help her—’
‘Well, don’t. Go back to your room. I blame you for this. You’re a sly one and I’ll be keeping my eye on you in future.’
Rose hesitated, her heart thumping.
‘What are you waiting for? I tell you, you’re already in a lot of trouble and I’ll make your life even more of a misery if you don’t do as you’re told.’
Her aunt clearly meant every word. Rose retreated upstairs to the attic and ran into Donald on the landing.
‘I heard everything.’ His teeth flashed in the darkness. ‘I thought you were such a goody two-shoes.’
‘I’ve been driven to it. Oh Donald, I feel so guilty – Jane has lost her place because of me.’
‘She was looking for another position anyway, if that makes you feel any better. I posted a couple of letters for her – she’s applied to several advertisements.’
‘I hope she finds somewhere soon. I’ll miss her.’ Being close in age and spending much time in the house together, they had become friends and allies against the Kingsleys.
Donald chuckled. ‘An apple-pie bed. Who’d have thought it? I’m very proud of you.’
‘Don’t even begin to think that I condone this kind of behavio
ur. I let my anger get the better of me. I wanted to get my own back on our aunt and uncle, but I didn’t think about the consequences.’
‘We mustn’t give in to their controlling ways. Dear sister, I’m going to look at you in a different light in future.’
She wished him goodnight, already regretting that she hadn’t set him a good example. With a twinge of guilt, she wondered what the outcome might be.
‘Rose and Minnie, stir yourselves. Your brothers have already gone to work.’ In the morning, the bedroom door creaked open on its hinges, and there was Aunt Temperance standing in her floral gown, her hair like a bird’s nest and her eyes puffy with sleep. Not Ma, Rose thought sorrowfully, wishing she could turn the clock back. She glanced across at the washstand where Minnie had left the thimble and scissors out. She prayed that her aunt wouldn’t notice – she didn’t like them patchworking because it took up time when they could have been doing other chores around the house. The patchwork itself was rolled up and tucked under the mattress.
‘What are those doing there?’ Her aunt’s eyes settled on the offending items.
‘I forgot to put them away after sewing the buttons back on Mr Kingsley’s shirt yesterday,’ Rose said, sitting up in bed.
Aunt Temperance appeared satisfied with Rose’s explanation, but chided her nonetheless: ‘You’re late.’
‘Where is Jane?’ Rose asked, before recalling that, thanks to her, she had gone.
‘You know very well. I’ve told her I won’t be giving her a reference. She’ll have to go and fish for another place. Anyway, I need somebody to step into her shoes.’
Rose touched her throat. ‘Me?’
‘Yes, you. Who do you think I mean, the Queen of Sheba? Minnie, get up and make sure you brush your hair and wash behind your ears.’
After preparing breakfast for their uncle, Rose and Minnie ate bread and dripping at the kitchen table before their aunt came in to make sure they weren’t slacking.
‘Have a look in the scullery,’ she said. ‘I’ve never seen so much laundry in my life.’
‘You want us to do the laundry?’ Rose said, aghast.
‘Of course.’
‘But I don’t know how,’ she stammered. ‘Ma always sent the laundry out.’
‘Your mother was profligate with money. Do you know how much it costs to have one’s laundry done?’
Rose shook her head, realising that she had no idea.
‘I prefer to have my smalls laundered at home where they don’t mix with the dirty linen of others. You must have some idea – you’ve seen the maid at her chores. Minnie will assist you.’
This was her punishment for the apple-pie bed, Rose thought, and she had no choice but to bow to her Aunt Temperance’s demands. Reluctantly, she handed an apron to Minnie, tied one around her waist and rolled up her sleeves before heating up the water. She soaked the sheets and moved the shirts around in the copper with the wash dolly while Minnie scrubbed at the stains with lye soap. Together, they put the wet linen through the mangle and hung it up with wooden pegs on a line which they’d stretched between the poles of the veranda. Rose’s arms and back ached, but the physical exertion took her mind off their situation temporarily.
She began to chant a rhyme which Ma had used to say when the twins were born.
‘“They that wash on Monday have all the week to dry.” Your turn, Minnie.’
‘“They that wash on Tuesday …”’ Minnie beat her brow with her fist. ‘I can’t remember the words.’
‘How about, “are not so much awry”?’
‘Yes, that’s it. “They that wash on Wednesday are not so much to blame.”’ Minnie grinned as she went on, ‘“They that wash on Thursday wash for very shame. They that wash on Friday must only wash in need.”’
‘“And they that wash on Saturday are lazy clods indeed.” Do you remember how Ma used to sing “Rockabye Baby”?’ Rose smiled at the memory. ‘You used to cry when down came the baby, cradle and all.’
‘Stop gossiping and get on with what you’re supposed to be doing,’ Temperance said, appearing at the back door. ‘Do I have to stand over you with the whip?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Rose said quickly.
‘I should think so. I want all this dry and folded by tonight, then it can be ironed in the morning.’
Rose was proud of their handiwork. The shirts were bright white and the sheets clean, but when her aunt came to inspect later, she tore the sheets off the line.
‘The birds have left their mark. Do it again. Everything in this house needs a proper scrub,’ Aunt Temperance went on. ‘When you’re done, I want all the carpets and rugs dragged out and hung over the line for a thorough beating, but first, go and answer the door. I’m sure I heard the bell.’
Rose was surprised – her aunt’s hearing was sharper than hers.
There was a middle-aged man at the door, dressed in a suit and tie, and carrying a briefcase. At first, Rose wondered if he was from the bank and had come to Willow Place instead of the tannery by mistake.
‘I’d like to speak to the mistress of the house.’
‘May I say who is calling?’
‘My business is of a sensitive and personal nature.’
‘Oh?’ Rose went into the parlour, where her aunt was hovering just inside the door. ‘There’s a caller who wishes to speak with you. He won’t give his name.’
Aunt Temperance checked her appearance in the mirror as she passed through the hall.
‘We have no need of any shoe polishes, dusters, or anything else for that matter. Please be on your way.’
‘I’m looking for a Miss Agnes Berry-Clay,’ the man said. ‘She may have married by now, and be known under another name.’
Aunt Temperance raised one eyebrow. ‘Who sent you here?’
‘I’m not at liberty to reveal that – this is a private investigation. I’ve been given information that a Miss Agnes Berry-Clay was well acquainted with the owners of a tannery in Canterbury.’
‘My name is Mrs Kingsley. I am the proprietor of the tannery across the street. There is no one of that name here.’
‘But you have heard of her? Mrs Kingsley, I implore you to think carefully. Do you know of a Miss Agnes Berry-Clay? Or her children, if she has any. This is a matter whereby the lady concerned could be in line to gain considerable financial advantage—’
‘This has nothing to do with us.’ Her aunt’s face had turned white, and Rose wondered what was going on as she turned to her and said, ‘This is one of my children. Now, go away.’
‘Are you absolutely certain?’
‘I have no knowledge of this person.’ Aunt Temperance stamped one foot as if to emphasise her point and the man backed down.
‘In that case, I will wish you good morning and take my leave,’ he said stiffly. ‘Good day.’
Aunt Temperance closed the door on his retreating back.
‘Why didn’t you tell him the truth?’ Rose asked.
‘Because I don’t want strangers poking their noses into our affairs. Your mother is dead and buried.’ Rose wished she wouldn’t be so blunt – it was painful being reminded of Ma’s body lying cold in the grave.
‘He said there was money in it.’
‘That was a trick. I’m not sure if you can contest a will after an inheritance has already been passed on, but I’m not prepared to risk everything by telling him what he wants to know. I will not let anyone take away what’s rightfully mine.’
‘I don’t see how he could.’
‘Someone out there thinks they have found a more recent version of my brother’s will. Or they’ve forged one out of spite. Forget about it, Rose. Go back to work.’
It seemed unlikely that anyone would do such a thing, but then Rose remembered how Aunt Marjorie had told her about her mother faking a letter of application and reference to obtain employment, and she also recalled her aunt’s suspicions that Mr Kingsley had had something to do with the disappearance of the will Pa had had witnessed b
y Mrs Dunn and Mr Hales. She thought of writing to her aunt again, but finally decided to leave it. It would only worry her.
The sisters were still beating rugs after dusk had fallen.
‘There you are,’ Donald said, joining them outside when he returned from work with Arthur that evening.
‘We’ve been here all day,’ Rose said. ‘Our aunt is a Tartar.’
‘Let me have a go.’ Donald took the carpet beater from her hands and began to hit the runner which they’d draped over the washing line. He cursed and swore as puffs of dust exploded from the weave.
‘Please mind your language in front of your sisters.’ Rose turned to her older brother for support, but he didn’t seem to care, standing there with his hands in his pockets. ‘Arthur?’
‘Donald, that’s enough,’ Arthur said wearily. ‘I’m afraid I have bad news.’
Donald paused and handed the beater back to Rose.
‘Tell us,’ he said. ‘I knew you were hiding something.’
‘I knew it was coming, but today it’s definite – I’m no longer the gaffer. Mr Kingsley has locked me out of the office.’
‘He’s what?’ Rose exclaimed. ‘There must have been some kind of mistake.’
‘There’s no mistake. He’d been drinking – he keeps a bottle of whisky in his desk. I started a polite discussion, suggesting that I should deal with the complaints from the curriers who buy our leather for finishing. He told me I had no right to be involved with the sales side of things. If I wanted to keep my job, I was to keep my mouth shut and work alongside the other men. He pushed me out of the door and turned the key.’
‘He can’t do that!’
‘Mr Kingsley can do whatever he likes. He has us over a barrel, Rose. He owns the business. He’s in charge and there’s nothing I can do.’ Arthur’s fists tightened until they blenched. ‘Our aunt is a tyrant. Her husband is a drunkard. Look at you and Minnie – you shouldn’t be skivvying for them. It isn’t right.’