by Rosie Clarke
Robbie had told her she had beautiful hair, but then he’d thought she was lovely altogether.
‘I loved you from the first moment I saw you waiting for the tram,’ he had told her when they’d started courting. ‘I wanted to speak to you then but I thought you would give me a look for having the cheek!’
Jessie had laughed. She’d noticed the good-looking young man at her stop all right, and more than once, but it wasn’t until the war started and he’d been wearing uniform that they’d had the courage to speak to each other.
‘It might have been the uniform,’ Jessie had told him afterwards. ‘You looked proud and handsome but a bit scared too, and I smiled because I wanted you to say something.’
Robbie had been working as a clerk at an insurance office before signing up and Jessie had a little job at a teashop just round the corner from his office. Once they started to talk they couldn’t stop and Robbie had asked her to go to a show at the music hall with him that night.
‘I’d love to,’ she told him. ‘But how much longer are you going to be in London?’
‘I’m stationed not far away. I’ll be able to visit most weekends – until they send me over there.’
They’d had six months, six wonderful, glorious months of happiness, before Robbie went on his first period of active duty and then ten days when he’d been given home leave. He’d seemed quieter and more reserved on his leave that time, but just as loving and then that last night she had sensed how much he wanted her.
‘I wouldn’t mind,’ she’d whispered shyly, burying her face in his shoulder. ‘If we did it – you know, went all the way. I love you and I know you love me.’
‘It’s best we don’t,’ he’d said and smiled at her so that her heart turned over. ‘But when I come home next time we’ll get a licence and get married – if you want to?’
‘Of course I want to!’ Jessie had hugged him.
‘That’s what we’ll do then.’ He’d grinned at her. ‘I would’ve asked this time but I thought I might be rushing you.’
‘Daft 'aporth!’ Jessie had teased. ‘I would have married you two days after we first went out if you’d asked.’
Oh, what a lovely time they’d had that last night of his leave, whispering in the dark at the music hall, holding hands and making plans as they’d walked home. It was all going to be wonderful on his next leave, but before that happened Jessie had joined the VADs and been transferred to a field hospital in Belgium and Robbie was dead.
Tears stung Jessie’s eyes as she laid her hairbrush down. She blinked them away, refusing to weep. She wasn’t the only woman to have lost her man. Some women had been left with illegitimate children to bring up alone. At least it hadn’t happened to her, and that was only because Robbie had been strong enough to resist for her sake.
Jessie summoned a smile. There was no point in letting things get you down, you couldn’t change them so you just had to make the most of what you had. She had known real love once, and that was why she didn’t intend to settle for second best. She would rather stay as she was than marry someone she didn’t love, even if there were times when she felt desperately lonely, as if she’d missed out on something special. But she had managed to cope with her grief and disappointment, putting all her effort into making life better for her patients. She hadn’t let Robbie’s death destroy her. And she wouldn’t let the board of St Joseph’s put her down either. She would find a job somehow no matter how long it took!
*
‘I’m sorry to inform you that the post you applied for has already been filled,’ Jessie read aloud over the breakfast table that morning. Three weeks had passed since her dismissal from the hospital and so far there was no sign of her getting another job. ‘They haven’t even asked for my references or given me the chance of an interview. That’s four nursing jobs I’ve applied for and they’ve all said the same. What’s wrong with me? Surely there can’t be so many trained nurses looking for jobs?’
‘Work is short all round,’ her aunt said and frowned. She knew how frustrated Jessie was at just sitting around. ‘But if you want my opinion, girl, they’ve got your card marked – you’re down as a troublemaker.’
‘But that’s not fair. I’m not a troublemaker.’
‘You reported a superior for misbehaviour,’ her aunt said. ‘I warned you how it would be, Jessie. He was one of them and they stick together. Always have, always will.’
Jessie felt a sinking sensation inside. Despite her denials she knew her aunt was right. She could hardly believe this was happening to her. It seemed so unfair. Surely it wasn’t just because she’d reported a superior member of staff that she was finding it so difficult to get a new job? No, she wouldn’t believe that or she really would be ready to jump off Tower Bridge!
‘As you said, the situation is difficult all round. A lot of men and women are out of work. I’ll find something if I keep looking.’
‘You could always work for Archie. He was asking after you yesterday. I told him you couldn’t find a job and he said to tell you he could give you a few hours helping out in the shop.’
‘I might have to take him up on it yet,’ Jessie said and looked rueful, ‘but it’s a last resort, Auntie. I’m a nurse. I want to use my training if I can.’
‘You might have more luck out of London,’ her aunt said looking thoughtful as she remembered something. ‘I saw it in a magazine yesterday and meant to show you but I forgot.’ She went over to the small oak sideboard and opened the bottom cupboard door, searching amongst the clutter of magazines, balls of knitting wool and other odds and ends that were stored on the shelves inside. ‘Ah, here it is. I saved it because there’s a knitting pattern I like – but the advertisements are all in the back. Have a look for yourself.’
Jessie took the magazine and sat in one of the deep, slightly shabby armchairs by the fireplace. Her aunt’s kitchen was the biggest room in the house, kept warm by the fire that was never allowed to go out and used for cooking as well as heating water and the room itself. They used this room all the time, keeping the tiny parlour neat and shiny for visitors, but it was usually cold in there and nowhere near as welcoming.
She flicked through the magazine, lingering over the picture of a stately house for a moment – what a lovely, lovely house! It must be wonderful to live in a place like that, she thought. She found the list of advertisements right at the back of the magazine and ran her finger down the column. There were several for parlourmaids – servants weren’t as easy to come by since the war – two for companions for elderly ladies, and right at the bottom something about a nursery nurse with a few hours devoted to an invalid lady each day. A bell rang in Jessie’s memory and she recalled the scrap of paper given her by Nurse Rose, which she had left in her uniform pocket and never looked at since. It hadn’t been worded quite the same but the telephone number was a London one, though she remembered Mary Rose saying that the job was out of town.
She wouldn’t have considered a job like this at the beginning, but now it seemed more interesting, at least as a temporary thing. It might even be a good idea to leave London and get away for a while, give herself time to think and recover from her upset over this whole business.
‘Is this a new magazine?’ she asked and glanced at the date on the front cover.
‘It came the day before yesterday. I have them once a month. I like them because they are so pleasant, the way life ought to be, no rude or nasty articles. Did you see that lovely house? It’s just been opened to the public. I suppose the owners are hard up because of the war or something. I thought I might visit one day; it’s only a short journey on the train and I like nice houses. Is the advert of any use?’
‘It might be,’ Jessie said. ‘I could telephone and see. I’ll pop down to the Post Office later.’
‘Use the phone in the Bakery office. I may not run the place now but it still belongs to me. Tell Eddie I said it was all right.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t like to take advant
age.’ She didn’t like the man her aunt employed to run the bakery either, but she didn’t say anything.
‘Don’t talk daft, girl. Go and do it now. There’s bound to be several after those jobs with all the unemployment about.’
‘I might have to leave London.’
‘What harm can there be in that? There isn’t much here for you, Jess. It would be a new beginning. Besides, your home is here. You can come back whenever you like. I’m not throwing you out.’
‘I know.’ Jessie laughed and jumped to her feet. ‘It wasn’t what I was looking for but it might be nice to have a change.’
‘Go on then.’ Elizabeth smiled as the girl went out. She glanced at the magazine and then frowned. Jessie hadn’t turned the page. What kind of a job was she looking for? The advert for a hospital wanting two nurses and several doctors in Manchester was at the top of the next page. Elizabeth went to the kitchen door to call her niece back, but she had already crossed the yard and was disappearing inside the bakery at the far end. Oh, well, she thought, what did one phone call matter? She would show Jessie the right advert when she came back.
*
Jessie gave the number to the operator and waited as it rang several times before being answered by a man who spoke as though he had a toffee in his mouth.
‘The Kendle residence,’ he said. ‘Whom did you wish to speak to please?’
‘Mrs Mary Kendle,’ she answered. ‘It’s about the advertisement in the magazine.’
‘I see…’ The faceless one with the odd sounding voice seemed to hesitate, then said, ‘I will see if Madam is available to speak to you. Please wait.’
‘As long as it doesn’t take too…’ Jessie held the receiver away from her ear as she realised she was talking to air, feeling put out. The voice had sounded disapproving and she wondered if that was why the post hadn’t been filled before this. His manner would discourage most people for a start! ‘Hello…are you there?’
She was on the verge of hanging up when she heard a little clicking sound and then a rather breathless voice asked if she was still there.
‘Yes. I wanted to speak to Mrs Mary Kendle please.’
‘Is it about the position looking after Lady Kendle and the children?’
‘If that’s the one in the ladies’ magazine, yes.’
‘Mrs Kendle isn’t here. She lives in Devon and only comes up to London every few weeks – but she asked me to interview anyone who rang if she wasn’t here. I’m Mrs Carmichael, the housekeeper here at Sir Joshua’s town house. Would it be convenient for you to call this afternoon, miss? I’m sorry, Carmichael didn’t give me your name.’
‘It’s Jessie Hale. I’m a trained nurse but I’ve just lost my job and I’m looking for something different.’
‘Oh…’ The housekeeper sounded hesitant. ‘Why did you lose your job, miss – if you don’t mind my asking?’
Jessie thought it would be all the same if she did; they all asked and she thought it was best to get it out at the start, then she needn’t waste time going round for an interview if they thought she wasn’t suitable.
‘I reported a doctor for fumbling a young nurse in the linen cupboard and he made out it was just a mistake; they took his side instead of mine.’
‘Yes, they would,’ Mrs Carmichael said and chuckled. ‘Sorry, Miss Hale – but I know how that feels, you see. It happened to me once when I was a young parlourmaid and the master caught me in a similar way. I went to the mistress. She didn’t believe me but gave me a reference when I left – so perhaps she did believe me, though she wouldn’t admit it.’
‘I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but it’s done now,’ Jessie said. ‘Do you still want me to come round for that interview this afternoon?’
‘You sound like an honest girl to me,’ the woman replied. ‘Come at three please. I’ll have time to sit and talk to you then. To tell you the truth we’re having a bit of a problem filling this place. It’s in Devon, see – does that put you off?’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ Jessie replied. ‘I knew that before I rang. Another girl told me about it some weeks ago, but I’d forgotten until I saw it advertised again.’
‘Mrs Kendle thought she had the post filled, but she was let down at the last minute – the girl lied about her references. She’d lost her place for stealing, you see. You’ve got a reference, I hope?’
‘Yes, one from Matron. She said it was a good one, but I haven’t looked; no one has asked for it yet. I promise you I’ve never stolen anything in my life – but I think I’ve been marked as a troublemaker.’
‘Shouldn’t wonder at it,’ Mrs Carmichael said and laughed again. Jessie thought she sounded rather nice. ‘Well, come and see me this afternoon. You might be the answer to a prayer, Miss Hale.’
Jessie replaced the earpiece and turned to discover that she was being watched interestedly by Eddie Robinson, the man who now ran the bakery for her aunt. He was a big man, florid-faced, slightly balding, and usually smelled of sweat. He couldn’t help it, of course – the work was hard and often in overpoweringly hot conditions – but she didn’t like him and she didn’t like the way he looked at her. She wished now that she’d gone to the post office as she’d wanted, or used Archie’s phone. He wouldn’t have minded and he wouldn’t have made her feel uncomfortable.
‘Still not found a job then, Jessie?’
She hated it that he called her Jessie, but she couldn’t say anything. Aunt Elizabeth relied on him to run this place, and he was hard-working and honest, which wasn’t always the case. She knew her aunt had sacked the two previous bakers she’d employed for cheating her. She couldn’t make trouble for her aunt; it was best just to keep out of Eddie’s way.
‘It looks as if my luck is about to change,’ she said. ‘Excuse me, Eddie. I have to get back.’
He didn’t move out of her way, which meant she had to squeeze past him to get through the office door. From the leer on his face, Jessie knew he enjoyed baiting her but short of asking her aunt to sack him there was nothing she could do but put up with his behaviour. Perhaps it was Eddie’s treatment of her that had made her blow the whistle on Doctor Acrington. It seemed that most men thought they had the right to do whatever they liked with women who crossed their paths, whether they were high or low born; there wasn’t much to choose between them.
Except that Robbie hadn’t been like that, Jessie remembered as she went out into the cold of the yard. He hadn’t taken advantage of her that last night, though sometimes now she wished he had. At least she would have known what it was like to be loved by him in that way, and she might have had his baby. She would have had something to love then, even if she’d been seen as a fallen woman because of it.
She shivered as she ran across the cobbles that led to the kitchen door. It always seemed colder when you came out of the bakery, because of the extreme heat in there. If she worked there perhaps she would become warped like Eddie in time, she thought, and then changed her mind. No, he was just made that way!
Her aunt was baking when she went into the kitchen. She made all her own cakes, even though she could have had them delivered from the bakery piping hot from the ovens; but they weren’t like home-made, were they? Elizabeth Pottersby had a light hand with all kinds of pastries. Besides, she wouldn’t have known what to do with herself if she didn’t keep busy in the kitchen three quarters of the day.
‘How did you get on?’ she asked. ‘Get through all right?’
‘I’m going for an interview this afternoon.’
‘To Manchester?’ Aunt Elizabeth pointed to the advertisement she had ringed in pencil. ‘That’s what I was talking about, Jess.’
‘I didn’t turn the page,’ Jessie said and frowned. ‘I’ve rung somewhere else now. I can’t let them down. I’ll have to go.’
‘Well, I suppose you ought,’ her aunt said. ‘But you can always say no. You’ve got to write a letter to this address, not phone – but you could post it when you go out this afternoon. Might as we
ll have two irons in the fire.’
‘No, I shan’t do that,’ Jessie said. ‘If I don’t think this will suit I’ll tell them, then I’ll write to Manchester – but I won’t string these people along. Mrs Carmichael said her employer had been let down once. I shall be honest with them and say if I don’t like the sound of it.’
‘Too honest for your own good, that’s you, Jess,’ her aunt said but she said it with a smile of approval. ‘Well, you please yourself. Nothing is forever, girl. If you remember that, you won’t go far wrong in life, believe me.’
‘I shall,’ Jess replied and smiled at her. ‘Are you making apple pie for dinner this evening?’
‘It’s your favourite,’ her aunt said. ‘I always make it at least once a week, and if you’re going away…’ She left the sentence unfinished. She would miss Jessie terribly but she wasn’t going to say. Let the girl decide for herself. Life went on, and she would come home when it suited her. ‘There’s a pot of thick cream in the pantry on the cold shelf. I think we’ll make a treat of it, Jess. Why not?’
Chapter Two
Jessie popped into the bookshop on the corner before catching her tram that afternoon. Archie was sitting in his chair behind a table laden with old books, horn-rimmed glasses on the end of his nose, apparently lost to the world, reading. He looked up as the bell rang loudly, a smile of pleasure lighting up his face as he saw her.
‘You look smart today. Off somewhere?’
She was wearing her best wool costume of dark blue, with a jaunty little felt hat that had a curling feather across the brim, her one pair of good leather court shoes, and carrying matching gloves and bag.
‘I’m going for an interview for a job. Wish me luck?’
‘Yes, of course.’ He had taken off his glasses and was studying her with his weak, kind eyes. Archie was a thin man, pale and intelligent but not robust. Jessie liked him and she knew his feelings for her were more than friendship, though he never presumed or looked at her in a way that made her uncomfortable. ‘Pop in and tell me how you got on when you come back?’