by Rosie Clarke
‘Yes, all right. See you later then.’
Jessie left him to continue reading. She sometimes wondered how he managed to make a living out of his books. None of them were new and a musty smell clung to some of them, which made her nose tickle. She knew he bought them from auctions and house sales and supposed he must sell them occasionally, though she hadn’t seen many customers.
She stopped to buy a newspaper, frowning as she saw that every mine worker in the country was now on strike and the government was bringing in stringent measures because of the emergency. It seemed such nonsense that one group of workers should go on strike when so many men were desperate for a job, though she knew conditions and pay in the mines were poor.
Her tram arrived just as she reached the stop. Jessie paid her fare and took a seat near the door so that she could get off quickly when they reached her stop. A man had jumped on at the last minute and sat down next to her, forcing her to shift up a bit, even though there were several empty seats elsewhere. Jessie’s brow wrinkled as she ventured a glance at his profile. He was about her own age, had short, dark hair and a severe look about him, his mouth set hard in a grim line.
‘I’ll be getting off in a few stops,’ Jessie said meaning to warn him that she would have to ask him to move.
He turned his head to look at her, his eyes the colour of woodsmoke as they surveyed her critically. ‘Are you suggesting I should sit somewhere else?’ he asked in what could only be called an aggressive manner.
Jessie coloured. She hadn’t meant it in quite that way, though she had been a bit annoyed that he’d chosen to sit next to her when there were so many empty seats he could have chosen.
‘It’s just that you’ll have to move when I get to my stop.’
‘I can move now if you feel like that!’
How rude he was! Jessie’s temper flared but she held it in check. She must have upset him.
‘I’m sorry. Of course I didn’t mean it that way.’
He made no answer, staring straight ahead of him as if he hadn’t heard her, but not moving. He was obviously caught up in his own thoughts and very angry. She felt rather uncomfortable, wishing that she hadn’t spoken at all. Should she try to make conversation? Glancing at his face again she thought it was probably best not. He was clearly very upset about something.
The tram stopped six times before she had to ask him to move. He did so without comment, sitting down again as soon as she was out of her seat and into the aisle. Jessie felt relieved when she was off the tram. What a very prickly young man he was!
He’d been dressed in a brown suit that looked as if it had seen better days, but there had been nothing rough or uncultured in his speech, and though he had been rude she thought he might have been used to working in an office and not with his hands. She had noticed that his nails were clean as if he had scrubbed them, his fingers long and slender – not the hands of a manual labourer.
Why was she giving him a second thought? He was just a rather unfriendly man she had sat next to on a tram and would never see again. Jessie dismissed him from her thoughts as she crossed the main road to the quiet square she was seeking.
All the houses in the square had been built in the late eighteenth century and were tall, narrow buildings with long sash windows and imposing front doors. These were the houses of families who had once been rich, keeping their London home just for occasional visits and spending much of their time at their country estates. Grouped around a small garden area, they had an air of fading grandeur as if their time had passed, and some of the houses had been converted into apartments that sheltered more than one family these days.
She ran up the three steps to the front door of number eight and pulled the black bell, which made a loud clanging sound within the house. The door was opened promptly and a man dressed all in black, apart from a grey striped waistcoat, appeared and looked down his long nose at her. His expression was one of distaste, as though he wondered what she was doing on the doorstep, but when she gave her name, he nodded and invited her into the hall.
If you will just wait here, miss,’ he said in a voice she instantly recognised. ‘I shall inquire if Mrs Carmichael is ready to see you.’
‘Yes, Mr Carmichael,’ she said, finding it difficult not to laugh at his pompous manner. Just who did he think he was? She had come for a job, not to beg for charity! ‘I am five minutes early, but better early than late, don’t you think?’
He gave her a look that spoke volumes and went off towards a door at the far end of the hall. Jessie looked about her with interest. The stairs were rather grand, curling to the left as they went up, the banisters ending in wide scrolls of shining mahogany that looked as if it had been polished every day of its life so deep was the gloss. The hall itself was spacious, the floor tiled in black and white marble, which was a bit cold and impersonal, and the furniture clearly old and probably valuable. There was a picture of a horse and dogs with a woman in the costume of the eighteenth century standing by a stream, and Jessie was studying it with interest when the voice spoke to her from behind.
‘Do you like pictures, Miss Hale?’
She turned to see a plump, smiling woman in her middle years. Her hair was a soft brown and rolled neatly away from her face, though she did not wear a cap. Her dress was a serviceable grey but well cut and she had a white lace collar and cuffs, a small cameo broach fastened at her neck. Her eyes were bright and seemed to light up her face, making Jessie think that she must have been very pretty when she was young.
‘I like this one,’ Jessie said. ‘I haven’t come across many as good as this, though my aunt has a few prints in her front parlour.’
‘Sir Joshua has many fine pictures, most of which are down at Kendlebury Hall,’ Mrs Carmichael said. ‘His father was a great collector, but that was when the family was in its heyday. The Kendles aren’t as rich as they used to be. Sir Joshua’s father was an MP, you know, and his grandfather made a fortune from importing tea, but the money isn’t as plentiful now as it was. They’re not short of a few bob, of course, but not as rich as they once were.’
Jessie nodded, making no comment. She thought it a little strange that the housekeeper should discuss the family fortunes with a complete stranger, but Mrs Carmichael clearly liked to talk about her employers and went on as she led the way through the hall to the back stairs, then down to a comfortable parlour behind the large kitchen.
‘Captain Kendle was in the army during the war,’ she said to Jessie as she motioned her to a large wing chair next to the fire. It was an extremely comfortable room, and Jessie thought the Kendles were clearly generous towards their employees. ‘It’s his wife that needs the help with her mother-in-law and the children. They have Nanny, poor dear, but she is getting old and poor Mrs Kendle doesn’t feel she’s up to the job these days – though they couldn’t turn her off, of course. Not Nanny. She was Captain Kendle’s nanny first and naturally expects to care for his children. You might find a bit of resistance from her at first, but she’s not a bad soul – not like some of them. I was at a house before I came here where the nanny was a tartar. Our Nanny isn’t like that, but she might come it for a while, just until she gets used to the idea of having a helper.’
‘I see,’ Jessie said and looked at her hesitantly. ‘Is it a big house – lots of people working there?’
‘The house isn’t as big as some I’ve worked in,’ she said. ‘Carmichael and me only came to the family a few months before the start of the war, and we run this house with just one maid and Cook, but there are more on the staff at Kendlebury. I’ve been down to the estate a couple of times to help out when they’ve had big parties on – Captain and Mrs Kendle were married a year or so before the war started. That’s when they opened this house up again see, for Mrs Kendle. She likes to spend a bit of time in town with friends; there’s not much for a lady like her in the country. Lady Kendle has been an invalid for years, so she doesn’t come to town these days and Sir Joshua closed the ho
use for a while – after his eldest son was killed in an accident, I think. Not that I know much about that; they don’t talk about Mr Jonathan. Sir Joshua hasn’t been here for years, but Captain and Mrs Kendle come up together sometimes and she visits every few weeks. Got a lot of friends, Mrs Kendle, likes to go out often to the theatre and dinner parties– that’s why she needs someone reliable with the children.’
‘Yes, I see.’ Jessie wasn’t sure she altogether approved of the picture Mrs Carmichael was painting of her future employer, but then she didn’t have to approve of her employer’s way of life, did she? ‘What are the children like?’
‘Little lambs,’ the housekeeper said and smiled. ‘Never had children myself – wasn’t meant to be for Carmichael and me – but I’m fond of them. Are you fond of children, Miss Hale?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ Jessie replied. ‘I haven’t had much to do with them really. I’ve been working on a general ward at St Joseph’s for the last two years since I left the VADs. Before that I worked in a teashop for a year or two after I left school. I live with my aunt, who has no children, but she does have friends who bring their children to visit sometimes. I’ve always found it easy to get on with them – and I had hoped to have some of my own.’
‘You’re not married,’ the housekeeper said looking thoughtful. ‘I hope you won’t be offended, Miss Hale, but you’re not a young girl; not old of course – but not young.’
‘I’m twenty-six,’ Jessie said. ‘I was to be married but… he was killed.’ She blinked hard because it still hurt to tell anyone that.
‘Oh, I am so sorry,’ Mrs Carmichael said. ‘It would have been the war, of course. It happened to so many. I didn’t mean to upset you, but I have to ask, because Mrs Kendle will want to know all about you.’
‘You haven’t upset me. If you’re wondering whether I’m likely to get married, the answer is no. I had made up my mind to dedicate the rest of my life to nursing, and to be honest if I had found the job I wanted I shouldn’t have telephoned you.’
‘It was a bit of luck for us you did. I think you are just what Mrs Kendle is looking for, miss. I hope you will consider taking the post. It’s eight pounds a month, uniforms and your keep. You get every other Sunday off and a half-day every week – and because the house is a bit isolated, there’s the use of a family car to take you into Torquay on your free afternoon.’
‘That’s generous,’ Jessie said. ‘I didn’t think nursemaids earned that much?’
‘They don’t often,’ Mrs Carmichael replied with a smile. ‘But there’s Lady Kendle as well, and it isn’t easy to find a young woman with nursing training – someone who is willing to do both jobs.’
‘Why don’t they employ two people?’
‘Because Lady Kendle won’t have a nurse. Nanny used to help her, but she can’t lift her now so one of the maids has to do it, and that isn’t suitable. Mrs Kendle thought that if she employed a nursery nurse for the children who could also look after her mother-in-law…’
‘Yes, I see.’ Jessie was thoughtful. It sounded as if Mrs Kendle expected a lot from whoever took on the job she was offering, but it was more money than Jessie had earned at St Joseph’s and would allow her to save. If she wasn’t happy working for the family she could always give her notice in after six months or so, and come back to London. She might be able to find a job she really wanted by then. ‘If I say I am interested, what happens next?’
‘I shall telephone Mrs Kendle and tell her about you,’ Mrs Carmichael said looking pleased. ‘She says she will trust my judgement but I’ll talk to her first and then I could telephone you tomorrow perhaps.’
‘Would it be all right if I rang you? My aunt doesn’t have the telephone in the house, and I’ll go to a friend’s house and use his if I may.’
‘You ring me at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning,’ Mrs Carmichael agreed with a smile. ‘I’m sure the answer will be yes – so don’t go changing your mind, will you?’
‘No, I shan’t do that,’ Jessie said and took Matron’s reference from her pocket. ‘Would you like to see this?’
‘Your reference?’ The housekeeper turned it over in her hand. ‘I don’t think I need to, Jessie – may I call you that?’ She smiled as Jessie nodded. ‘You keep it for Mrs Kendle if she asks, but I shan’t bother. I think I know a decent lass when I see one.’
‘Thank you.’ Jessie got to her feet. ‘I’d better not keep you any longer. I expect you are very busy.’
‘I keep the house ready in case one of the family…’ she broke off as someone knocked at the door. ‘Come in.’
A young maid entered and looked at her awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, Mrs Carmichael, but Captain Kendle has just arrived. He says he’s come for a couple of days.’
‘There you are,’ the housekeeper said and shook her head. ‘Never a word to say to expect him, but that’s the gentry all over. I’d better go up and see him. Would you mind waiting for a moment, Jessie? I’ll ask him if he wants to see you himself. If he says yes I’ll send Millie to you, otherwise I’ll come back myself and show you out.’
‘Oh…’ Jessie was surprised by the sudden turn of events. ‘All right, if that’s what you want – but I could wait in the hall if that makes things easier.’
‘Come on then,’ Mrs Carmichael said. ‘Is the captain in the upstairs parlour, Millie?’
‘I’m not sure. Captain Kendle was talking to Mr Carmichael and he sent me to fetch you.’
‘Come along then, mustn’t keep him waiting…’ Mrs Carmichael beckoned to Jessie and she followed in her wake, wondering if she would see her future employer.
As they went into the hall, Jessie saw that it was empty and breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived as the next moment a gentleman emerged from the downstairs parlour carrying a sheaf of letters and papers in his hand. He glanced towards the little group coming towards him without really noticing, seeming uninterested as Mrs Carmichael began to exclaim that it was nice to see him again.
‘It is just a short visit,’ he replied. ‘Business…’ He looked up from his letters as he spoke and Jessie saw his face properly for the first time. He was attractive rather than handsome but there was something about him that made her want to stare and keep on staring at him, and it wasn’t just the tiny scar on his right temple. She wasn’t sure what held her, except that she sensed suffering and saw it in his eyes – the eyes of an old soul as Ma would have said. ‘Did you want something?’ There was a hint of impatience in his voice and Jessie blushed, aware that she had been staring rudely.
‘This is Miss Jessie Hale,’ Mrs Carmichael said, glancing at her and then back at him. ‘She’s come about the job for Lady Kendle and the children, sir. I’ve just been interviewing her. I wondered if you would like to talk to her yourself now you’re here?’
‘Good lord, no,’ he said and seemed to glare at her. ‘I leave that sort of thing to you and my wife. Excuse me, I must read these letters.’ He went past them and up the stairs, not looking at either of them again.
Jessie felt as if she’d been slapped. She was almost sorry that she had practically said she would take the job. Captain Kendle certainly wasn’t the kind to make a new employee feel welcome, though perhaps it had been partly her own fault for staring at him.
‘Don’t let that put you off,’ Mrs Carmichael whispered as he disappeared round the bend at the top. ‘He’s been a bit that way since he came home – the war you know; it affects some of them up here.’ She tapped the left side of her head. ‘He was ill for a long time and he never was much of a one for talking, quiet like, Captain Kendle, keeps his thoughts to himself.’
‘Yes, I thought he might have been ill,’ Jessie said. She wondered why she should feel that stabbing pain in her chest, and then realised that something about him had reminded her of Robbie – Robbie as he had been that last time on leave. Sort of intense, edgy, as though he couldn’t bear to let himself think of what he’d seen and done in the trenches, as t
hough he was trying to block out all the things that hurt him, to get through as best he could. ‘No, I shan’t let it put me off.’ In a way it had helped her to make up her mind, because she felt sympathy for Mrs Kendle. It must be very difficult for her with two young children, an invalid mother and a husband who… wasn’t the same man he had once been. ‘I hope I shall be given the job, Mrs Carmichael. You’ll put in a good word for me, won’t you?’
‘Yes, I shall. You can rely on that,’ the housekeeper said, beaming as she let her out of the house. ‘Don’t you worry, miss, that job is as good as yours.’
‘Thank you. You’ve been very kind. Please tell Mrs Kendle that I’m looking forward to being of help to her.’
It had been quite warm for November when Jessie arrived earlier that afternoon, but the sky had become grey and overcast since then and she shivered as she stepped out into the chill wind. She was trying to remember what Ma had said to her about people with eyes like Captain Kendle’s – something about carrying their suffering on from a past life.
‘It’s in them, Jessie girl,’ she’d told her once when they had been drinking tea at the old scrubbed pine table in the kitchen. ‘Destined to suffer in this life for what they did in a past time, that’s what they say about old souls. I don’t know if it’s true or if they’re just sad folk what have the suffering in them, but I’ve seen it more than once – it were in your father. He used to brood something proper at times, then at others he’d be like a cricket, merry and chirpy all day. Died in an accident at his work on the docks, he did, and me left alone with a babe hardly off the breast. They told me he saw the bale falling but never tried to get out of the way… almost as though he thought it was meant for him.’
‘You can’t believe that, Ma?’ Jessie had asked. ‘He wouldn’t have wanted to leave you. Surely he wouldn’t?’