The Servant Girl

by Maggie Hope

  ‘Don’t you tell me lies, our Hetty,’ she snapped. ‘You never used to tell lies but you must have got the money from somewhere for what you’ve done. An’ we know what you’ve done.’

  ‘How can you know what isn’t true?’ cried Hetty.

  ‘It’s true you’re a big businesswoman now, isn’t it? It’s true that even though you had a little babby to keep, you’ve managed to buy all sorts of property, isn’t it? Do you think we live in such an out of the way place that we wouldn’t find out what you were doing? Why, man, you know even the Sunday School trips go to Redcar and Saltburn, not to mention the bairns’ outing from the Club. Thirty buses went to Saltburn last year. Surely you must have met some of those folk?’

  ‘I didn’t, Mam. I don’t know why. Though wait a minute, I was away a lot last summer, to do with work. And the people from here, well, not many of them would be using a restaurant like Pearson’s.’ Most of them would have sandwiches and bottles of pop, she thought, and eat them on the sands.

  Maggie snorted. ‘They might not go in for a meal but they’d walk past it, wouldn’t they? Why, man, you know what folks’re like. When our Frank hurt his back in the pit last year—’

  ‘Our Frank hurt his back and you didn’t tell me?’

  Maggie just gave her a look. ‘When our Frank hurt his back last year,’ she repeated, ‘the Club wanted to send him to their convalescent home, you know, the one in Saltburn. But he wouldn’t go because of you. No, he went to the union one instead, and you know he loves the sea.’

  ‘How is his back?’

  ‘Better. But he’s come off the hewing, he couldn’t do that. He’s a deputy now, working for his overman’s ticket an’ all.’

  They sat in silence, both women staring at the fire. Then Hetty said, ‘Mam, I haven’t got a fancy man. I never had anyone after Matthew.’

  ‘Will you stop telling your lies!’ Maggie jumped up, shrieking. ‘I tell you, I know. I wasn’t going to show you this but I will now.’

  She went over to the mahogany press which stood against the wall and, opening a drawer, took out a letter and handed it to her daughter.

  Hetty stared at it in disbelief. It was in Havelock Fortune’s writing. She remembered it well from her days at Fortune Hall. Slowly she unfolded it and smoothed it out while her mother stood over her, quivering.

  Dear Mr Pearson,

  In answer to your query concerning the whereabouts of your daughter, I have to tell you that I do not have the faintest idea of her address though I understand she and her bastard are living in some affluence in Saltburn. What I do know is that before my son, over whom she had cast her evil spell, was barely cold in his grave she had taken up with another man, the owner of the house she was living in. No doubt it is his money which set her up in Saltburn.

  The letter was signed ‘Havelock Fortune’. Hetty, unable to look at the hateful words any longer, thrust it into the fire and watched as it flared up and sank back to black ashes which lifted and fell into the embers and was gone.

  ‘The dirty, vindictive, bloody rotten liar!’ she whispered.

  ‘Hmm, watch your language, our Hetty,’ said Mam. ‘And burning it won’t do any good, like, will it?’

  ‘But it’s not true, Mam. Really, it isn’t. I swear it’s not. I’ll swear on the bible, if you like?’

  Maggie sat down again, gazing earnestly at her, and Hetty knew she was wavering. She even reached out a hand to her daughter and was about to speak when the door opened and Frank came in, followed after a moment by Thomas and Penny.

  ‘Mam, Mam, the pigeons are lovely, and there’s some baby ones but I could only have a peek because Grandda says we haven’t to disturb them, not when they’re in the nest ’cause the mother bird doesn’t like it …’ The child stopped as she noticed Frank, who had come to a halt just inside the door. He and her mother were looking at each other strangely. Penny took hold of Thomas’s hand and stared at Frank.

  ‘Penny,’ said her grandfather, lifting her up so that her face was on a level with Frank’s. ‘Penny, this is your Uncle Frank.’

  ‘How do you do?’ said Penny, evidently remembering the lesson in polite introductions she had learned at school. She held out her small hand. Frank appeared not to have heard, he was still staring at Hetty.

  ‘Frank!’ barked his father, and he turned and saw the child’s proffered hand.

  ‘Hello, Penny,’ he said, and took it in his.

  ‘You smell funny,’ she observed and Thomas snorted.

  ‘Aye, he does, doesn’t he? It’s the beer.’

  ‘Now, Thomas, don’t start,’ Maggie interjected. ‘The lad has a right to do what he likes, he works hard all week.’

  ‘Aye, well,’ said Thomas, ‘mebbe so.’

  ‘Hello, Frank,’ said Hetty. ‘How are you now? I hear you had an accident to your back.’

  ‘I’m all right,’ he answered. ‘How’s yourself?’

  Maggie had laid a cloth over one end of the table and was bringing Frank’s dinner from the oven. ‘Sit down, lad, eat it afore it’s spoiled altogether. As it is the pudding’s kizened. Where’ve you been since the Club shut?’

  ‘Just walking with the lads.’ He hadn’t, he had been playing pitch and toss with pennies round behind the slag heap, but Da would only play war if he told them. ‘Don’t fuss, Mam, I like me dinner all kizened up.’

  ‘What does kizened mean, Uncle Frank?’ Surprisingly, Penny was standing at his elbow, watching him as he ate.

  ‘Did you not teach the bairn the language, our Hetty?’ asked Frank, and Hetty had to smile and a little of the stiffness between them melted away. He looked down at his niece. ‘Well now, kizened means dried up, overdone, see. Like this gravy.’ He pointed to a brown patch on his plate.

  ‘I like it like that,’ declared Penny. ‘But Mr Jordan, he says it’s a disgrace to serve anything overdone.’

  ‘Does he now? Well, I’m like you, I like it.’

  Thank the Lord for Penny, thought Hetty yet again. Frank finished his meal. Sitting back in his chair, he lit a cigarette and began to cough, a harsh, rattling cough.

  ‘By, I wish you wouldn’t smoke those filthy things,’ said Mam.

  ‘They clear me tubes, I couldn’t do without them,’ he replied when he managed to catch his breath.

  ‘You do without them down the pit, why not here?’ she countered.

  ‘Aw, Mam, give over, hold your whisht,’ he said wearily and pulled once more on the cigarette with such force that it burned almost halfway down.

  They sat on for a few minutes, saying little except to the child who wanted to know about everything. Hetty wanted to say to them that it wasn’t Painter’s money which had given her a start, she wanted to tell them all about it. But she knew how daft it would sound to say she’d found treasure in a cave, they would never believe her at all then. She was quiet, looking into the fire, thinking desperately how she could tell them but saying nothing because she was so worried they wouldn’t believe her.

  The men started to talk about the pit as they always did and Penny chatted to her grandmother. After a while, the women made tea and then it was time for Hetty to take Penny home and still nothing had been said.

  Chapter 31

  Hetty drew the Alvis up to the front of Pearson’s Ruby and switched off the engine. Penny was asleep in the back seat. She had had a momentous day, meeting her new relations. On the way back she had chatted the whole time about them, her grandda and her grandma and Uncle Frank.

  ‘Wait until I see Gladys Poole,’ she said, ‘won’t she be surprised?’ And, ‘Can we go back next Sunday, Mam? Grandda says the baby birds might be flying by then, I want to see them fly.’ She thought for a moment. ‘The gulls won’t get them, will they?’

  ‘There are no gulls in Bishop Auckland,’ her mother assured her. ‘They only go inland if there’s a big storm.’

  ‘There won’t be a big storm?’

  ‘No, pet, not this time of year. Not until the pigeon
chicks are old enough to look after themselves.’ And Penny was reassured. Dusk began to creep over the land, the Cleveland hills came into view on the horizon and Penny slumped in her seat and nodded off. Hetty stopped the car and made her comfortable. She was just small enough to fit on to the back seat lying down.

  There had been no chance to talk seriously to her parents or Frank with the child there. The afternoon was soon gone and she had to get back, she explained. ‘It takes an hour and a half,’ she said, and they had nodded their understanding.

  ‘You’ll come back, though?’ said Da. ‘Now we’ve met our granddaughter, we don’t want to lose her.’

  ‘Why don’t you come through to see us?’ asked Penny eagerly. ‘We’ve got plenty of rooms, haven’t we, Mam? You can stay for a holiday. You can meet Mr Jordan and Steve.’

  ‘We’ll see, we’ll see,’ Maggie temporised.

  ‘Mind, you like this Mr Jordan, don’t you?’ asked Thomas. ‘Who did you say he was?’

  ‘Why,’ said Penny, ‘he’s Mr Jordan, that’s all. He’s the chef.’

  ‘He’s more than that,’ said Hetty. ‘He’s my partner.’

  Da’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Oh, aye? I never knew you had a partner. And do you like him as much as Penny does?’

  Hetty laughed. ‘I do indeed, I don’t know what I’d do without him. But it’s not like you think. Mr Jordan is older than you, Da, he runs the restaurant. Put his life savings into it.’

  They had reached the end of the street and there was the Alvis, a gang of small boys around it. ‘Can we have a ride, missus? Can we? Dr Richardson always gives us a ride round the rows when he has time.’

  Hetty hesitated. ‘Oh, go on, lass,’ said Frank. ‘Can you not remember what it was like to have a ride round the rows in old Dr Short’s motor car?’

  ‘Come on then, but mind, keep your feet off the seats,’ she said to the boys. Penny turned suddenly shy and hung back, clinging on to her grandfather’s hand as though she had known him all her life.

  ‘I don’t want to go round the rows,’ she said, almost in tears. ‘I don’t know where they are anyway.’

  ‘No? Well then, lass, you will stay with us,’ said Thomas and swung her up on to his shoulders where she sat, clinging to his forehead, delighted with herself. She was just beginning to look a little worried when the Alvis came round the corner and stopped in front of them once again.

  ‘Thanks, missus. Eeh, thanks, missus,’ cried the lads and tumbled out. ‘By, your car’s smashing, loads better than Dr Richardson’s.’

  ‘I’ll keep in touch,’ said Hetty as Penny climbed into the back seat.

  ‘Aye, and mind you do this time,’ said Da.

  Well, now it was over, she had at last been home. For always, no matter where she was or how happy she might be or how long she had been away, County Durham, and Morton in particular, was home to her.

  ‘Come on, Penny, wake up, pet,’ she said. ‘We’re back, time for bed. Here’s Nanny for you.’ Sylvia was descending the front steps. She lifted Penny out of the car and held her over her shoulder. Penny murmured something and snuggled in.

  ‘Did you enjoy yourself, Penny?’ Sylvia asked.

  ‘Oh aye, I did,’ she lifted her head to say.

  Oh dear, thought Hetty. She’d already picked up the speech. From her grandfather, no doubt.

  The next few weeks were busy ones for Hetty. There was the hotel in Whitby to refurbish in readiness for the season and she liked to be there to supervise this critical time in the opening of any venture. It was her first step outside Saltburn and Redcar and the twenty-mile journey back and forth added time to her day she begrudged, for it often meant she was away before Penny was up and sometimes returned long after her daughter’s bedtime. But she tried hard to keep Saturday afternoons free so they could be together. This Saturday they were going to pick up Charlie Hutchins and go to the funfair at Redcar.

  Hetty’s brow wrinkled as she thought of Charlie. He was ten years old now, a thin, clever boy always growing out of his clothes and with horn-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, usually twisted out of shape. It was when Penny was a year old and still in her pram that Hetty had met him again, in Alice’s fish cafe, the place where she had first met his father.

  At first Hetty hadn’t noticed them, sitting in a corner eating plates of cod and chips and mushy peas. She was busy negotiating the pram into a place where it wouldn’t be in the way of the customers, putting on the brake, sitting Penny up so she could see everything that went on. The child hated not to be able to see everything …

  ‘Hetty! Hetty!’

  She looked up in surprise and there was Charlie, jumping up and down in a seat next to his father, his thin face beaming a welcome.

  ‘Charlie! Oh, Charlie, it’s lovely to see you,’ she cried and held out her arms to him and they hugged each other. Penny looked on, her eyes wide, not sure if she liked her mother hugging someone else.

  ‘How are you, Hetty?’ asked Mr Hutchins. ‘I’ve often wondered how you got on. Won’t you sit down?’ He glanced at the pram but said nothing about it.

  ‘You didn’t come to see us,’ Charlie said, and was obviously waiting for an explanation.

  ‘No, well, I’ve been away. I’ve been very busy,’ said Hetty, and even as she said it she knew it sounded lame, just an excuse. ‘What are you doing in Saltburn?’ she asked, by way of changing the subject.

  ‘Visiting Gran,’ said Charlie.

  Alice brought her a cup of tea and then, as the cafe wasn’t busy, she took Penny from the pram and behind the counter, the baby crowing and laughing as Alice made a fuss of her.

  ‘How is your mother?’ Hetty asked. Mr Hutchins looked tired, she thought, tired and unhappy. Charlie too. His little face was pinched somehow and his wrists stuck out of his too-short sleeves, bony and thin. His collar was frayed too, she noticed.

  ‘Oh, bearing up, bearing up,’ said Mr Hutchins.

  ‘You’ll be at school now, Charlie, do you like school?’ Hetty smiled at the boy and he brightened again. ‘Oh yes, I do, school’s lovely,’ he declared.

  Hetty would have asked more but just at that moment Penny decided her mother had been talking to these strangers long enough and started to wail and at the same time, the door opened and a stream of customers came in. So she got no further than enquiring after the rest of the family and receiving a rather perfunctory answer before she had to take Penny and leave the cafe.

  ‘I’ll see you again,’ she said to Charlie, ‘I promise I’ll come down to Smuggler’s Cove as soon as I have the chance.’ Both Charlie and his father looked a little guarded about that and Hetty had a good idea why. ‘That woman,’ she said savagely as she wheeled the pram round the corner into Ruby Street. ‘By, I bet she has a lot to answer for, seeing the state of that poor lad.’ Penny looked startled and then her bottom lip turned down, ‘Not you, pet,’ her mother assured her, ‘I’m not angry with you.’

  On Alice’s half-day closing the following week, Hetty had left the baby with her and taken the bus to Smuggler’s Cove. It was a warm day as she walked up to Overmans Terrace and most of the front doors stood open. Anne Hutchins sat in a chair by her front door, fanning herself with a newspaper she had been reading. She was fatter, Hetty noticed. She sat with her legs apart and her feet planted firmly on the ground. She gazed malevolently at Hetty.

  ‘An’ what brings you here, Hetty Pearson?’ she demanded by way of greeting.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Hutchins,’ Hetty replied, determined to be pleasant. ‘How are the children? I saw Charlie when he was in Saltburn with his dad. By, he’s grown a lot. I suppose Audrey and Peter will have too. All right, are they?’

  ‘What do you expect them to be? Do you think I don’t do my duty and look after them properly? Well, let me tell you, those little hellions are the bane of my life. I rue the day I was soft enough to take them on, I can tell you. A slave to the three of them I am. And that Charlie … I’ll skelp his behind for him when he gets in fro
m school, I swear I will. Tell him not to do something and you can be sure it’s the first thing he does do. Why—’

  ‘I found him a nice, biddable little boy,’ Hetty interrupted the tirade.

  ‘Did you now? Well, all I can say is he must have changed a lot. Such a sly, deceitful lad I’ve never seen in my born days. Just stands there dumb as a donkey when I’m talking to him. I tell you, he was at the back of the queue when brains were handed out, that one.’

  Hetty was standing by the gate as Mrs Hutchins had not asked her in. ‘He was not!’ she retorted, unable to listen to any more. ‘He’s a bright lad, he is! If you’ve been hitting him, I’ll have the cruelty man on you. Anyroad, what does his dad say to that?’

  ‘His dad? His dad?’ Mrs Hutchins rose to her feet and picked up her chair. ‘Like I tell him, he’s at work most of the time, he’s working double shifts since the pit went on to full-time. “It’s all right for you,” I tell him, “but I have the bringing up of the little tyke.” Now I’ll thank you to mind your own business and leave me to mine.’ At which she went in and banged the door to after her. Hetty was staring at it when Anne opened it again and came out, her arms akimbo. ‘An’ another thing,’ she shouted. ‘You bring the cruelty man here and I’ll have you up for slander, I’m warning you! So get back to where you belong. By all accounts, you’ve nowt to be proud of yourself.’

  Hetty was trembling with frustrated rage. She felt like battering down the door and giving the woman what for but she knew she couldn’t.

  ‘Hello, Hetty, why don’t you come in and we’ll have a nice cup of tea?’ It was Mrs Timms from next door and as Hetty looked up she saw she wasn’t the only woman who had come to the door and all were watching her with avid curiosity. Except for Mrs Timms, who was smiling a welcome. Hetty nodded thankfully and followed her inside.

  ‘Take no notice of that woman next door,’ said Mrs Timms when Hetty was settled in a comfortable chair and a cup of strong milky tea put in her hand. Mrs Timms offered her a plate of home-made ginger biscuits and took one herself.