by Judi Curtin
I walked over and bent to pick up the biggest pieces, but she pulled me back.
‘Leave it,’ she said. ‘I can clean up later. It’s just there in case of emergencies.’
I went over and fixed the bed where she had wrinkled it by sitting down. She went back and sat down and messed it up again. I don’t think she was being mean – I think she had no idea what it was like to have to tidy up after herself or anyone else.
I stood near the fireplace with my hands clasped behind my back. I was confused. I wanted to leave, but I also wanted to stay and get to know this girl better.
Now she was staring at me.
‘Do you know you have a very interesting face?’ she said.
I had no idea what to say to that so I said nothing.
Maeve got up from the bed, and I had to stop myself from going over and fixing it again. She walked around me, staring at my face all the time. I thought she was being a bit rude – you’d expect a rich girl like her to have better manners.
‘Has anyone ever painted your portrait?’ she asked.
I laughed, but she didn’t laugh with me, and I realised she hadn’t been joking.
‘Last year my little sister, Anne, found some chalk, and she drew a picture of me on the wall of our house,’ I said. ‘I had a big head and no body and long legs like sticks, and Mam gave my sister a slap for ruining the wall.’
‘I would like to paint your portrait,’ said Maeve when she finally stopped laughing.
Now it was my time to stare at her. I didn’t know this girl very well, but I could see that she was being perfectly serious.
‘My parents are very famous artists,’ she said. ‘My mother trained in Paris and London, you know. I think I may have inherited their talent. They will be so proud of me when they see I can paint a good portrait. Sometimes I try to paint my cousins, but they don’t have interesting faces like yours – and they are not very good at sitting still. Yes, I have made up my mind – you would be a very good subject. What do you think about that?’
I could feel my face going red. ‘Em…it’s very nice of you… thank you… but I’m not sure if…’
‘It would be only an hour or two a day.’
‘But, Miss Maeve, I don’t have time for that – I have to work.’
‘Please call me Maeve,’ she said. ‘And don’t worry, I think I could arrange it with Mrs Bailey and Mr Kilgallon – they always do what I say. And besides, my father once painted Mr Kilgallon, and my mother did a lovely drawing of a servant girl just like you, so I’m merely following a family tradition.’
Now I didn’t know what to do. This was all very strange and new. Sitting in Maeve’s room being painted sounded like much more fun than scrubbing floors, but what would the other servants say? Nellie would go mad – and while I didn’t mind the idea of that, I knew she would make me suffer for it later.
Just thinking about Nellie must have worked some evil magic, because right then I heard her voice.
‘Lily, where have you got to? There’s still lots of work to do. Where are you?’
‘I’ve got to go,’ I whispered, as I ran to the door in a panic.
Maeve lay back on the bed with her hands behind her head. ‘See you soon,’ she said, as I closed the door behind me.
Nellie was coming along the corridor, and she did not look happy.
‘Were you idling in Miss Maeve’s room?’ she said. ‘I should go right to Mrs Bailey and complain you.’
‘Miss Maeve is in her room,’ I said. ‘And she needed me to tidy up something she had broken. She especially asked me to stay and give her a hand.’
Nellie looked doubtful, but even she wouldn’t dare go into Maeve’s room to see if I was telling the truth. I didn’t know how much of a mess I had got myself into, but it was almost worth it to see the look of jealousy on Nellie’s face.
Chapter Ten
The next morning, Nellie and I were supposed to polish the silver, but first Mrs Bailey asked me to carry a bundle of clean towels upstairs to the nursery. I wondered how a few small babies could use so many towels. I didn’t mind though – I might meet Isabelle, and have a minute for a quick chat.
At the bottom of the back stairs, I bumped into Nellie.
‘Where are you going with those?’
She looked suspiciously at the bundle of towels, almost as if I were going to steal them away and trade them for a bar of gold.
‘I’m bringing them to––’
Before I could finish the sentence, I was interrupted by a familiar voice. ‘Lily, there you are.’
Maeve was coming down the back stairs, which was very strange, as the family always used the big staircase. Automatically, Nellie and I stepped aside, and stood against the wall.
‘I’ve been looking for you, Lily,’ said Maeve.
‘Good morning, Miss Maeve,’ I said.
‘Didn’t I tell you to call me Maeve?’
Nellie’s mouth opened wide, but no sound came out.
‘I have found a solution to our little problem,’ said Maeve.
Nellie’s mouth opened even wider. The thought of Maeve and I sharing anything, even a problem, must have been hard for her to bear.
Since I didn’t say anything, Maeve went on talking.
‘You said you have a lot of work to do every day, Lily?’
‘Yes, Miss … I mean yes … Maeve.’
‘But you have a whole day off every week?’
‘Yes,’ I said again, not liking where this conversation was going.
‘And when is your day off?’
‘Saturday,’ I said quietly.
Maeve clapped her hands. ‘Perfect. Gaga and I are leaving this morning, but I will ask Uncle Joss to pick me up his motor car on Saturday and we can get started on the portrait of you.’
I could feel tears coming to my eyes. For Maeve, every day was a day off, so how could she imagine how precious my Saturdays were to me?
What would Mam do if I didn’t come to see her?
Would she worry that I was sick?
Would the girls cry if I wasn’t there to play with them and tell them stories?
Would the boys miss me helping with their reading and writing?
Would Hanora and Rose think I’d forgotten all about them?
What would I do if I had to go two whole weeks without seeing my family?
Maeve was still talking. ‘It will probably be about twelve o’clock by the time I get here. My paints are still in the day nursery, but I don’t think we should work there – the children can be frightfully annoying. We can work in my bedroom, or maybe one of the studies – anyway, I’ll think about that and set up the paints later. Mother will be so proud of me when she hears that I have taken up painting again. She says….’
‘But that’s not fair.’
That’s what I was thinking, but I hadn’t said a word.
Or had I?
Then I saw that, beside me, Nellie had gone red and clamped a hand over her mouth. Nellie had said the words! For a minute there was silence. I think we were all a bit shocked by what had happened.
‘What do you mean, Nellie?’
Maeve had spoken quietly, and it was hard to tell if she was angry, or just asking because she didn’t understand.
Nellie looked terrified, and I felt sorry for her. She spent her days telling me about all the rules I had to follow, and now she had broken one of the most important ones – she had been rude to a member of the family.
Maeve was staring at her. I suppose ignoring a member of the family was nearly as bad as being rude to them.
‘Begging your pardon, Miss Maeve,’ whispered Nellie. ‘I’m sorry if I’m speaking out of turn, but, on her day off, Lily goes to see her family – and family is important, and that’s why it’s not fair if Lily has to stay here and get painted.’
At first Maeve didn’t reply, and that made me scared. She was best friends with Mrs Bailey, and maybe she was planning to get Nellie and me sacked! Maybe she didn�
�t even need to involve Mrs Bailey – maybe she could just say the word and Nellie and I would have to go and pack up our belongings and leave. Next to me, I could feel Nellie shaking.
But then Maeve shrugged. ‘Oh, all right,’ she said. ‘I didn’t think about that. We’ll just have to do it on a working day. Don’t you worry, Lily – I’ll make all the arrangements and I’ll let you know when I’m back. Bye.’
And she waved at us both and walked on down the stairs.
‘Thank you so much, Nellie,’ I said. ‘You have saved my life. I’d die if I couldn’t go to see my family. And I’m sorry your family lives so far away – do you miss them an awful lot?’
But instead of answering my question, Nellie snapped at me.
‘You’ll get in trouble for being too familiar with Miss Maeve,’ she said, sounding like her usual self. ‘Letting her paint you – I’ve never heard the like of it. Who do you think you are, Miss Hoity Toity? Now bring those towels wherever you are supposed to and then come back – the silver won’t polish itself you know.’
* * *
Isabelle met me at the door of the nursery. It was lovely to see her friendly, smiling face.
‘Lily,’ she said. ‘How are you? How are you settling in?
‘I think I’m settling in all right,’ I said. ‘Sometimes I miss my family, but mostly it’s not too bad. Mrs Bailey said I’m a good worker, so I’m happy about that.’
‘I wish I could see you more, but I have to spend most of my time up here with the little ones. They are very sweet, but they keep me on my toes.’
I couldn’t help feeling a bit jealous. Spending time playing with those adorable children sounded nicer than the way I spent my days.
‘Isabelle,’ I said. ‘I wonder – do you think I could be a children’s maid? I’ve got four brothers and sisters at home – so I’m used to taking care of little ones.’
‘That would be very nice. You and I could have good times, chatting and telling stories and playing games with the little ones.’
‘So maybe…?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Around here, once you’ve been trained for one job, that’s the job you keep on doing.’
‘But when I started here, Mrs Bailey said I wouldn’t be an under-housemaid forever.’
‘She was right. If you work hard, maybe one day you’ll be a housemaid, and in many years time your dreams might come true and you could even be made housekeeper.’
I wasn’t sure that my wildest dream was to be a housekeeper. Mrs Bailey didn’t have any family, and she spent her whole life in the servants’ quarters in Lissadell. (Though I did envy Mrs Bailey her own office, and her little sitting room with its own fireplace and an armchair where she had tea and cakes every evening.)
‘And what about you, Isabelle?’ I asked. ‘What do you dream of?’
‘I like being a children’s maid, but I hope that one day I’ll be a children’s nurse. I’ll get more pay, and I’ll be able to boss the maids around – I’d like that.’
I laughed. I knew Isabelle was much too nice to boss anyone around.
‘Come with me while I put away these towels,’ said Isabelle. ‘But be quiet. The little ones are still sleeping.’
I followed her into the nursery, and I could hardly believe my eyes. It was like something from a picture book. Everything seemed to be made of satin or lace or velvet. There were shelves full of toys and stuffed animals and books. On a chair was the most beautiful doll I had ever seen. She was dressed all in cream-coloured lace. She had long curly black hair and she had the sweetest face you could imagine.
‘Could I touch her?’ I whispered.
‘Of course,’ said Isabelle, picking up the doll and passing her to me. ‘Miss Bridget has lots of dolls, though she’s too small to play with them anyway.’
I held the doll in my arms, and rocked her for a minute, thinking of my own dear Winnie and Anne at home, who had never owned a doll, and didn’t even know to dream of one. Then I carefully placed the doll back on the chair, and went back out to the corridor.
‘See you soon, Lily,’ said Isabelle.
‘Can I tell you something before I go?’ I asked.
‘Of course,’ she said quickly. ‘Is there something wrong?’
‘No … not really … well maybe. I think you’re my friend… and …’
Isabelle gave me a warm smile. ‘I am your friend,’ she said. ‘And you can tell me anything.’
So I told her about Miss Maeve’s plan to paint a portrait of me.
‘Oh dear,’ she said when I was finished. ‘You must be careful, Lily. No one likes it when we get above our station.’
‘But what am I supposed to do? None of this is my fault – I wasn’t forward in any way. Miss Maeve is very bossy, and if she tells me I have to sit down and let her paint me, I can’t say no. I can’t run away and hide under the stairs or stand in the gallery and pretend to be a statue, can I?’
‘That’s true,’ said Isabelle, giggling. ‘Maybe if you stay out of her way for a while she’ll forget all about you?’
‘Thank you, but how can I do that? I go where I’m told, and Maeve goes wherever she wants. Even in a big house like this, if she wants to find me, she’ll find me.’
‘That’s true. It’s a problem all right – and I’m sorry I can’t think of a solution for you.’
I was disappointed that Isabelle hadn’t come up with any useful ideas, but simply talking about my problem had helped a little bit.
‘I’d better go,’ I said. ‘Nellie will be wondering where I’ve got to.’
‘Is Nellie being kind to you?’
‘That’s a hard question. Sometimes she’s nice and sometimes she’s mean, so I never know what to expect. This morning she did a very kind thing for me, but five minutes later she was snapping at me again.’
‘That sounds like Nellie.’
‘I try not to make her angry, but it doesn’t take much to set her off.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, and it must be hard for you, being with her all day, but maybe … it isn’t her fault.’
‘Well it’s not my fault!’ I said quickly. ‘I’m trying my very hardest to be the perfect housemaid, and I bite my tongue a hundred times a day when Nellie says mean things to me.’
‘Oh, I’m not blaming you. It’s just that … considering where Nellie came from …’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She came from the workhouse – didn’t you know?’
‘The workhouse!’
Just saying the word brought a chill to my bones. At home in the village, talk of the workhouse could make big grown-up men go pale and scared-looking. Children ran away crying whenever it was mentioned. I had never seen a workhouse, but that didn’t stop me from being terrified of the idea.
‘As far as I know she wasn’t much more than a baby when she was sent there,’ said Isabelle.
‘There’s not many get out of the workhouse?’ I said. ‘How did she get here to Lissadell?’
‘Lady Mary rescued her last year,’ said Isabelle. ‘I was there when she arrived – and she was a sight, I can tell you.’
‘The poor girl.’
‘She was skin and bone, her face was covered with sores and her hair was matted and filthy. I felt sorry for her, but I wouldn’t stand too close to her either – she stank like anything – and she probably had lice. When she was bathing, one of the stable lads had to take her ragged clothes outside and burn them.’
‘That’s so sad.’
‘It is. After her bath, Lady Mary brought her a plate of food, and Nellie ate it with her fingers, she was so hungry.’
I thought of the Nellie I knew, who tried to speak in a fancy voice, and who kept herself so clean and tidy.
‘What happened next?’ I asked.
‘Lady Mary insisted that she stay in bed for a whole week, and she brought her meals herself – all the best butter and cream and meat. And slowly, Nellie got better, until she became th
e girl you know now.’
‘And what about her family? Are they still in the workhouse?’
‘Who knows? They could be there, or they could be dead. I’d like to ask Nellie – but, to be honest, I’m a little bit afraid of her.’
I felt sick when I thought of all the times I had prattled to Nellie about Mam and the little ones at home, and the fun we had, and the games we played and the stories we shared.
How many times had I told Nellie that sometimes we were hungry at home, even though Mam always made sure we had something warm to eat in the morning, and before bed?
How many times had I told Nellie I was sad to have no daddy, when she might have no daddy or mam or family of any kind at all?
‘Poor Nellie,’ I whispered. ‘I thought she was being mean, but maybe I was the mean one.’
* * *
It was bedtime before Nellie and I were on our own together. As usual, she jumped into bed quickly, and only grunted when I said goodnight. I felt awkward. I had so much to say to her, but I couldn’t find the words.
Maybe she’d be offended if she thought I knew about the workhouse. She was only a baby when she went there, so it wasn’t her fault or anything. Where I lived, though, that didn’t matter. Being in the workhouse was seen as a bit shameful, even though the shame should have been on the people who ran those terrible places.
So in the end I just made my voice as warm as possible when I said, ‘Thank you again for standing up for me with Miss Maeve. I’ll tell my mam what you did, and I know she will be very grateful too.’
‘You’re welcome,’ whispered Nellie. ‘Family is important.’
I was feeling happy when she followed this with a snappy, ‘Now go to sleep. Your chattering is giving me a headache!’
Chapter Eleven
Over the next few days, part of me dreaded meeting Maeve again. I could see already that she was a determined kind of girl, so I knew she would come looking for me. But even if she sorted everything out with Mrs Bailey, I couldn’t imagine the other servants being happy about me lazing about in Maeve’s room while they continued with their work. It might be nice to spend time with Maeve, but if that made everyone downstairs hate me, my life would not be easy.