“No, Nanny Mackintosh.” I can see by her expression that I am to be put in my place once and for all.
It began with a battle over the night-light. We arrived home late yesterday, sad and tired from our journey. Miss Portia continues to have nightmares, but I have found a night-light to comfort her. I dared to suggest to Nanny that the child be allowed this for a while longer.
“Indeed, Gardener? In my experience, I have yet to meet a nursemaid capable of making useful suggestions, let alone decisions!”
“I beg your pardon, Nanny Mackintosh, I thought–”
“You are not paid to think, Gardener, but to obey my instructions! Giving in to Miss Portia’s fears solves nothing. It is obvious that the girls have been thoroughly indulged! The sinking of the Titanic and the sad loss of their father must not be made an excuse to give in to their every whim.”
How can she be so hard? It is not so long ago that she lost her own father. Nanny no longer frightens me with her scolding.
“Nanny Mackintosh, I would be very much obliged if you would permit a night-light, at least until after Lord Milton’s funeral. In New York, both Lady Milton and Lady Fenton gave their approval for Miss Portia to have one.” I wait for another of Nanny’s homilies, but to my surprise she concedes.
“Very well, Gardener, a few days more!”
The next day, she is occupied with making a list of requirements to replenish the children’s wardrobe. She shares Mrs. Wilson’s opinion of the clothes Lady Fenton has bought them. She decides to send me to the park with the children without her this afternoon.
“I trust you will refrain from discussing any private matters pertaining to the family, Gardener,” Nanny says.
It is a relief to leave both Nanny and the house on such a warm and beautiful spring day. Hart had warned me that I’d find it hard to return to being just an extra pair of hands for Nanny. I did not anticipate how much I would object to her constant disapproval. Was she this critical before our departure? Or have I changed? If it were not for my great affection for the children, my respect for Lady Milton, and Hart’s friendship, I might think about seeking employment elsewhere. But I suspect that other nurseries would not be so very different. Nanny Gilbert says she discharged her new nursemaid for insolence. Poor thing, she probably had the temerity to venture an opinion!
I reply briefly and politely to the nannies’ questions about the Titanic, and we leave the park earlier than usual. I am uneasy and suspect we are being watched. The newspapers do occasionally write of child kidnappings!
There are footsteps behind us. I look over my shoulder. Is that man following us? I can’t be sure, but I hurry the girls along, frightened now. There isn’t a constable in sight. I pick up Miss Alexandra, and we run the rest of the way home.
All three of us are hot and breathless when we get to the back door. I close it behind us and wipe the children’s faces and my own with cool water at the scullery sink, before going into the kitchen.
Mrs. Porter looks at my flushed face and invites us to sit down and rest before we go upstairs. “Croft, fetch three glasses and a pitcher of lemonade from the larder, please. Hot, isn’t it, Gardener?” She offers a ladyfinger biscuit to the girls.
They beam at her, as if she had presented some precious gift. They consider sitting down at Mrs. Porter’s kitchen table to be a great treat. Miss Alexandra drinks the entire glass of lemonade without spilling a drop.
Miss Portia asks, “Is it a party? I wish our papa was coming too!” Croft turns away, and it is all I can do not to cry. Before we can pull ourselves together, there is a loud knock at the back door.
Croft answers it and returns quickly. “Please, Mrs. Porter, it’s a gentleman from the Daily Sketch newspaper. He wants to talk to Gardener about the Titanic and to take a photograph of the children. What am I to tell him?”
“Nothing, Croft, I’ll deal with him,” Mrs. Porter says, looking grim.
“A man followed us here from the park, Mrs. Porter,” I whisper.
She rolls down her sleeves, smoothes her apron, and picks up her rolling pin. Her voice carries, and we manage to hear every word.
“You are to leave the girl alone. Lady Milton does not permit interviews! Photograph? I have never heard of such impertinence. How dare you intrude at such a time! Be off, before I call the constable and have you arrested. You are trespassing! No hawkers or circulars!” The outside door slams shut.
Mrs. Porter marches back into the kitchen, rolling down her cuffs. “If he shows his face here again, he’ll feel the weight of my rolling pin!” she says indignantly.
“Please, Mrs. Porter, may Alexandra and I feel the rolling pin, too?” Miss Portia asks. Croft puts her hand over her mouth, and her shoulders shake. I burst out laughing, and Mrs. Porter joins in. The door opens, and Nanny Mackintosh appears, looking as if she is about to have apoplexy.
“Is there something you require, Nanny Mackintosh?” Mrs. Porter asks. “It will soon be time to bring up your tea–there’s a nice jam sponge cooling in the larder.”
Nanny Mackintosh ignores her, turning her wrath on me. “Have you completely taken leave of your senses, Gardener? Take the girls upstairs immediately and change them for tea!”
“Thank you very much for the lemonade, Mrs. Porter. Come along, Miss Portia, Miss Alexandra.” I walk out wishing that Nanny Mackintosh might get a taste of Mrs. Porter’s rolling pin! Upstairs, I settle the girls in the bedroom with their dolls and wait.
Nanny storms in. “Explain yourself, Gardener.” If she brings out the castor oil, I’ll refuse to take it. “Don’t keep me waiting,” she says ominously.
“We were hot, Nanny Mackintosh. Mrs. Porter kindly offered us lemonade. It was a treat for the children.”
“Eating with servants, in the kitchen, is never a treat, Gardener–it confuses the children. There must be a line that they may not cross. Kitchen gossip is not fit conversation for Lady Milton’s daughters to listen to!”
“But, Nanny, we are servants too. We eat with the children at every meal, and they are in my company all day long.”
“You are either stupid or deliberately impertinent! I shall have to discuss the matter with Mrs. Ransom. She will make the decision whether to trouble Lady Milton at this difficult time. I have made excuses for your inexperience for too long!”
I make no reply. Thank goodness tomorrow is Saturday and I can go home!
Mother and Emmy are waiting for me at the door. The twins grin bashfully, and little George pulls at my skirt, wanting to be picked up. When we have gone inside and the kissing and hugging and a few joyful tears are over, Father turns to me.
“Well, now, it’s good to have you home, Lou. Your mother has been baking ever since she heard you were back safe and sound!” The entire kitchen table is covered with cakes, scones, biscuits, and pies. It looks like a coronation tea!
I have to describe the sinking and the rescue, the wait in the lifeboats, and the climb up the ladder to the Carpathia. I leave out some things, but manage to tell how beautiful and elegant the ship was! And when I am all talked out, I ask Father how it is that he is home early from the market on a Saturday afternoon.
“Isn’t this your busiest time, Father?”
“Nothing that can’t wait for my Lou’s return,” he says, and that almost makes me cry again. He pats my hand, suddenly shy at showing any emotion. Then he lifts Emily onto his knee.
“Your uncle Alf and I have taken on an assistant. Do you remember young Patrick O’Connor, Lou?” Father says.
“Patrick, you don’t mean Kathleen’s Patrick? I thought he had drowned. His name was not on the list of survivors, Father.”
“He never went!” my father says.
“Who’s talking about Patrick? Lou, oh, Lou, you’re home!” Kathleen rushes in and throws her arms around my neck. I am so thankful that I will not have to tell Kathleen that her Patrick is at the bottom of the ocean with the Titanic. Mother dabs her eyes again–her apron must be quite damp by
now!
“Oh, Lou, when I think of you and those little girls and…” Mother says.
“If you start crying again, Harry and me are going out to play. Can we please, Mother?” my little brother Tom asks, itching to get away.
“There’s sausages for supper; don’t be late,” Mother says.
Tom hurries out after Harry, turns at the door, runs back, and tweaks my hair. “We told Mother you’d never drown!” he says and disappears.
“Now, Flo,” Father says, “she’s home safe and sound and none the worse! Sit down and drink your tea. As for Patrick, Lou, I reckon he’s had a lucky escape, though he did not think so at the time. He was one of a group of stokers who’d missed the early train from London, or so he told us!” Father gives Kathleen a stern look. “Not that it is any of my business.” Kathleen suppresses a smile.
“When they arrived at the ship, he said the crew’s gangway was just being pulled up. They were told their positions had been given to replacements–men who’d been waiting for hours, hoping to get taken on. Well, next day, Patrick turns up at the market. He offers to put in two days work, for no pay, to show us what he can do. I tell you, that lad is never idle for a minute. Truth is, I don’t know how Alf and I ever managed without him!” Father goes out for a smoke.
Mother looks pleased. “Take your sister upstairs, Kathleen. You must have a lot to talk about. Emmy can lend me a hand getting supper. She’s a real help now. She made those scones all by herself. Do you want fried bread with your sausages, Lou?”
“Please, Mother. Come here, Emmy, and let me take a look at you. You haven’t said a word. My goodness, you’re growing tall! I don’t know where my little sister went. I can see who will be baking all the fancy cakes for Kathleen’s salon one of these days!”
Upstairs, in the room we shared for so long, Kathleen tells me that Patrick has been asked twice for Sunday tea.
“Father says he sees no reason why we can’t walk out, seeing as I’ve turned sixteen.” Love found Kath early. I would not be a bit surprised if one day they became engaged! Mother and Father seem to have taken a real liking to Patrick.
At first, Kathleen won’t hear of taking any money for a new coat.
“You have no idea what that coat meant to me, Kathleen. I felt so proud wearing it on deck in the moonlight, just as you said I should. It kept the girls and me from freezing in the lifeboat. It covered a half-drowned sailor, and now it has been cut down for two little children who were rescued wearing only their nightclothes.” I insist she take the money to buy another coat.
Father walks all the way back to Chesham Place with me–he has never done such a thing before. “We are that proud of you and grateful you were spared!” he tells me.
Two days after Lord Milton’s funeral–after Master Roger had been driven back to school, pale and refusing to shed a tear in front of us–Nanny and I are asked to bring the girls down to say good-bye to their grandmother. Lady Portman will be returning home early tomorrow morning. Miss Alexandra is out of sorts, bewildered by the many comings and goings in the house. She cries and does not want to say good-bye.
“With your permission, Lady Milton, Lady Portman, Miss Alexandra is overtired and should be put to bed,” Nanny says. Lady Milton agrees, her thoughts elsewhere, I think.
“Gardener, take Miss Alexandra upstairs immediately, please,” Nanny says.
“No! Don’t want to!” The child rubs her eyes with her fists.
“Come along, I will read you a nice story when you are in bed,” I coax her, and she takes my hand. I hear Nanny sigh her disapproval. What’s wrong now?
“Will you read to me, too, Gardy, when I am in bed?” Miss Portia asks.
Nanny Mackintosh, her face mottled with anger, answers before I have a chance to reply: “Must I remind you again, Miss Portia, that big girls of five are old enough to remember that pet names are not permitted in my nursery. There will be no more stories until you ask Gardener correctly.”
Lady Milton rises from the sofa. Her face is pale and stern.
“You have said quite enough, Nanny Mackintosh. You will not bully either my daughters or Gardener in this way. What does it matter what the children call the person who saved their lives? It is a pity that you are not as fond of children as she is. Girls, you may go upstairs now with…” Lady Milton hesitates, “…with Gardy. She will read to you both. Mama is tired.”
“I beg your pardon, Lady Milton.” Nanny Mackintosh sails out the room. Gardy?
Miss Portia runs to her mother and puts her arms around her neck, then kisses both her mother and grandmother. As I close the drawing-room door behind us, I hear Lady Milton’s brokenhearted words, “Mother, how can we manage without him?”
Upstairs, there is no sign of Nanny. No doubt she is complaining to Mrs. Ransom! I do not see Nanny again that night, but she presides over breakfast and lunch as usual. No word is said about the incident and no comment made when Miss Portia does not finish everything on her plate.
18
Changes
Next day, when we return from our afternoon walk, Nanny’s door is ajar, the room is bare, and the bed has been stripped. Hart passes me in the corridor as we come in and whispers, “Nanny Mackintosh has left for good!” She must have spent the afternoon packing her things. Hart is called away, so I don’t have a chance to hear any more before we go upstairs.
Phipps brings up our tea tray and sets out cups and plates for three. “Tea, for my three beautiful ladies,” he says. Miss Portia and Miss Alexandra bat their eyelashes at him, but I take no notice. So it must be true–Nanny Mackintosh really has gone. Phipps would never have been so impertinent if she’d been here! And I would have been blamed for sure by Nanny…accused of encouraging him. Sometimes I wonder if Mr. Phipps is suited to being a footman. But I admit I enjoy his teasing, now that I’ve become used to it.
The children settle to playing with their dollhouse after tea, and I clear the table before ringing the bell. Dean comes up to collect the tray.
“Lady Milton wants to see you in the drawing room. I’m to stay with the girls until you return.”
I change my apron and cap, feeling as nervous as I did a year ago, when I was first interviewed. I wonder what she wants. The only thing I can think of is that I am going to be dismissed. Then who will look after Miss Portia and Miss Alexandra if both Nanny and I are gone?
Before she left, I am sure Nanny Mackintosh complained about me to Mrs. Ransom. Nanny had warned me that she would do so. And it is Mrs. Ransom who advises Lady Milton about staff changes.
As Mother said, girls are always ready to jump at the chance of working in a good place. It will break my heart to leave, but I am not sorry for disagreeing with Nanny Mackintosh. Rigid, that’s what she was, unkind and unbending. Miss Portia and Miss Alexandra need a bit of extra love and attention just now. I straighten my cap and knock at the drawing-room door.
“Thank you, Hart, you may leave us now. I will ring when Gardener and I have finished our talk.” Hart leaves, without so much as a glance at me. That’s not a good sign. I notice Lady Milton’s untouched tea tray. Hart said she’s not eating enough for one, let alone two!
“I will come straight to the point, Gardener. Nanny Mackintosh has decided to return to Edinburgh permanently, to be closer to her widowed mother. This leaves my daughters without a nanny. May I be frank with you, Gardener?”
Whatever Lady Milton has in mind, I know it will turn out to be something unpleasant! That’s what being frank usually means.
“You are still very young and, over the last few weeks, you have had to shoulder a great deal of responsibility. More than one would expect of someone twice your age…”
Lady Milton does not sound as if she is going to dismiss me without a character. She is only saying that I am too young and inexperienced.
“I have discussed the matter with my mother, and we are in complete agreement. I would like you to stay on as nanny. The children and I would not want to be withou
t you!” I am to be kept on? I am not to be dismissed, after all? I can hardly believe it, I was so sure …
“Please think carefully before you answer, Gardener. Do you feel that you are able to continue to be in charge of Miss Portia and my naughty little Alexandra? We have spoiled her, I am afraid. Her papa doted on her.”
“Miss Alexandra wants to be independent. She is a sweet good girl. I am quite firm with her, ma’am. I would like to stay very much, Lady Milton.”
“I am so pleased to hear that, Gardener. We hoped you would. You, Hart, the girls, and I have been through more together than anyone can ever comprehend! I hope you will remain as nanny and as friend and companion to my daughters for many years. I am sure this is what my husband would have wished too. He told me you would look after them, after he saw you.”
“Oh, ma’am…” My eyes fill with tears. It isn’t fair, the children fatherless!
“I will expect you to bring any nursery problems to me. I must try to be both mother and father to my children now.” Lady Milton also seems close to tears, but composes herself and continues calmly. “Now for practical matters…I will inform Mrs. Ransom what has been decided. Your salary will be raised immediately to sixteen pounds a year and to twenty pounds in a year’s time. We will spend the summer with Lady Portman. Master Roger will join us there. My mother will return home with us and stay until after the baby’s arrival. A baby nurse will be hired for the early months. Good can take over nursery cleaning duties. Do you find her capable?”
“Yes, ma’am. She is a nice, hardworking girl. Her windows are perfect!”
“I can see that the nursery is going to be a much happier place from now on. Thank you, Gardener. I will be up later to say good night to the children.”
I pass by Hart in the hall. She says, “I was wrong, wasn’t I? Things are changing, and about time too!” She must have known.
I take the nursery stairs two at a time, then, remembering my new position, slow down. Why? Who is going to tell me what to do, or how to behave? I can run or walk as I please. I hurry on up, anxious to tell the girls that, from now on, I will be their nanny!
No Moon Page 14