by Sandy Taylor
I took one more look around the room. ‘I am,’ I said, picking up my case.
‘Good girl, we should get going then.’
I followed Sister Luke downstairs and my eyes filled with tears when I saw the Sisters gathered in the hallway to say goodbye. Mother put her arms around me and held me close. ‘Our thoughts and prayers go with you, Cissy, and remember we are here if you need us.’
‘Thank you for everything that you and the Sisters have done for me. I’ll never be able to repay you for your kindness.’
‘Your happiness will be payment enough, child.’
Agnus and Orla came in from the garden.
‘We thought we’d missed you,’ said Agnus.
‘You nearly did,’ I said, grinning.
‘Have a grand time at your big posh house,’ said Orla, ‘and give that baby a big hug from us.’
‘I will, and good luck to the pair of you.’
Agnus hugged me. ‘Sure, we’ll be fine, Cissy, you just take care of yourself.’
‘Stay away from the dances,’ I said, kissing them both on the cheeks.
There was a taxi waiting on the drive. ‘Have you been at the collection box again, Sister Luke?’ I whispered.
‘All above board this time, Cissy,’ she said, grinning.
I climbed into the cab and waved out the back window until the Sisters and the convent were out of sight.
I felt sick with excitement as the car drove through London. I would soon see Nora and I could hardly wait. The Sisters had told me that Mrs Grainger lived in a place called St John’s Wood. I’d never heard of it but as we started passing terraces of tall elegant houses I guessed it was going to be very posh indeed, although not as posh as Bretton Hall and I was glad of that.
‘This is it, Miss,’ said the driver. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, are you going to be working here?’
‘I am,’ I said.
‘Then you’d best go below stairs and not use the front door, you don’t want to be getting off on the wrong foot.’
I thanked him and stepped out onto the pavement.
‘Good luck, girl,’ he said with a nod.
I watched him drive away and stood looking up at the house. Behind one of those windows was my baby. I counted four stories as well as the basement. I took a deep breath and went down the narrow steps.
I knocked on the door and it was opened immediately by a young girl. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I thought you were the butcher.’
‘Sorry,’ I said.
She smiled at me. ‘Then you must be Cissy. I’m Maggie, come in out of the cold.’
There was an older woman rolling out some pastry on the kitchen table. ‘It’s Cissy,’ said the girl. ‘And there was me thinking it was the butcher,’ she added, giggling.
‘Right, Cissy. Well, you’ve met the mad one, I’m the sane one, Mrs Dobbs.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ I said, shaking her hand.
‘Maggie, put the kettle on,’ said Mrs Dobbs. ‘I don’t know about you but I’m parched.’
‘A cup of tea would be grand,’ I said.
‘Sit yourself down then, girl.’
I put my case on the floor and sat at the table.
‘Mrs Grainger tells me you have come across from Ireland to better yourself.’
Is that what she’s told everyone? I thought. ‘Well, I don’t know about bettering myself, that suggests there was something wrong with me before.’
Mrs Dobbs threw her head back and roared with laughter. ‘You’ll do,’ she said. ‘And you’ll need some of that when you meet Mrs Cornish.’
‘Who’s she?’
‘The housekeeper.’
‘She’s an old battleaxe,’ said Maggie, placing a steaming cup of tea in front of me.
‘Just do your job and you’ll be fine,’ said Mrs Dobbs.
It was lovely and warm in the kitchen and I felt comfortable sitting there drinking my tea and watching Mrs Dobbs roll out the pastry. The room wasn’t as big as the kitchen at Bretton Hall but that made it feel more cosy. I’d taken to Maggie and Mrs Dobbs right away and I’d deal with Mrs Cornish when the time came – she couldn’t be any worse than Caroline Bretton.
‘What will my duties be, Mrs Dobbs?’
‘A bit of everything. It’s not a big household, Cissy, and Mrs Grainger isn’t much of a one for entertaining. Mrs Pullet comes in daily to do the heavy cleaning. You’ll help Maggie here with the beds and the fires, and you’ll both give me a hand in the kitchen.’
‘Does anyone else work here?’
‘Nanny Price looks after the nursery and she’s helped by Betsy, God love her.’
‘There are children then?’ I said, crossing my fingers behind my back.
‘Just Charlotte.’
I was confused. ‘Charlotte?’ I said.
‘The prettiest baby you ever saw,’ said Mrs Dobbs. ‘She has a head of dark hair and skin like porcelain.’
‘What’s porcelain?’ Maggie chimed in.
‘It’s good china,’ said Mrs Dobbs.
‘You make her sound like a doll,’ said Maggie, laughing.
Mrs Dobbs smiled. ‘She’s not far off one, bless her little heart.’
‘Is there just the one baby?’ I asked.
‘Yes, just the one. What makes you ask?’
I had to be careful. ‘It’s just that you said there were two people working in the nursery.’
‘More like one and a half,’ said Maggie.
‘Now that’s not kind, Maggie,’ said Mrs Dobbs. ‘What she means, Cissy, is that Betsy is… well, how can I explain Betsy?’
‘She’s not quite all there,’ said Maggie.
‘Child-like,’ said Mrs Dobbs. ‘That’s how I would describe Betsy. She’s child-like.’
Just then a woman came into the kitchen. I stood up.
The woman reminded me a bit of Mrs Hickey, except that her uniform was posher. She had on a long black dress, the sleeves were long too and there was a belt around her ample waist which held an assortment of keys, making a jangling sound every time she moved.
‘Cissy Ryan?’ said the woman.
‘Yes, Miss,’ I said.
‘You can call me Mrs Cornish, I’m the housekeeper.’
‘Yes, Mrs Cornish,’ I said.
‘Mrs Grainger would like to see you in the drawing room and then Maggie will show you your room.’
I followed Mrs Cornish up the stone steps leading from the kitchen. Her rather large rear end swayed to and fro in front of me. We then walked across the highly polished wooden floor of the grand entrance hall and I waited while she knocked on the door.
‘Come in,’ said a voice from within the room.
Mrs Cornish went in ahead of me. ‘Cissy Ryan is here, Mrs Grainger.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Cornish, you can leave us.’
‘Come and sit down, Cissy,’ she said, beckoning towards a sofa. ‘You found us alright, then?’
‘The nuns paid for a taxi,’ I said.
‘That was good of them.’
‘They’ve been very kind to me.’
‘Indeed, they have. I imagine Mrs Dobbs has filled you in on your duties?’
‘She has.’
‘Then I hope you will be happy with us.’
Mrs Grainger was wearing a pale blue dress that looked as if it was made of silk. She crossed her ankles and relaxed back in the chair.
‘Can I see my baby now?’
‘I’m sorry, Cissy, but that won’t be possible. She has a sleep at this time. Nanny Price will be very cross with us if we interfere with Charlotte’s routine and we don’t want the wrath of Nanny Price to come down on our heads, do we? The nursery is her domain and we have to respect that.’ She was smiling at me but her smile couldn’t hide the hardness behind those pale blue eyes.
I stared at her, feeling angry inside. The nursery might be Nanny bloody Price’s domain, but the baby was mine. ‘My baby’s name is Nora, Mrs Grainger, it’s not Charlotte.’
&nb
sp; ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Cissy, I should have mentioned this before. When I thought that I was going to adopt your baby, I shared my joy with the staff and I told them that her name would be Charlotte. They would think it very suspicious if I suddenly changed it to Nora. You do understand, don’t you?’
I felt so angry I couldn’t speak.
‘Good,’ she said, as if I’d agreed with her.
I was beginning to feel desperate. The room suddenly felt hot and stuffy, I could feel sweat beginning to form under my armpits. ‘Mrs Grainger, I haven’t seen her for more than a week, I need to see her now.’
This wasn’t what I had expected. It was all very well for Mother Ignatius to say I had to trust Mrs Grainger but right now I didn’t trust her one little bit.
A stony look came over her face; she wasn’t smiling at me any more. ‘Like I said, Cissy, this is not a good time.’
‘When is a good time?’
She stood up to let me know that the conversation was over. ‘I’ll let you know. Now I expect you want to unpack.’
‘You’ll let me know?’
‘Yes, Cissy, didn’t I say that I would?’
Yes, you did, I thought, but I don’t believe you. I had the sudden urge to rush up to the nursery, pick up my baby and run as fast as I could and away from this house.
Chapter Forty-Eight
I was right, Mrs Grainger never let me know when I could see Nora. I decided to bide my time and not do anything to anger her. I needed this job, I had to make enough money to somehow take care of Nora myself. I resolved to go back to the convent and talk to Mother Ignatius, I needed her advice.
Maggie and I shared a bedroom at the top of the house. I worked out that the bedroom was directly above the nursery, and it reassured me to know that Nora was so close.
It was tearing me apart being so close to my baby but not being allowed to see her. I wished I could confide in Maggie, it would be such a comfort to talk to someone.
‘Are you happy working here?’ I said.
‘Are you kiddin’? If you saw where I came from, you’d understand why I’m happy workin’ here. There was sixteen of us livin’ in three rooms.’
‘Sixteen?’
‘I have two brothers and a sister as well as me mum and dad.’
‘But that’s only six.’
‘The other ten residents are rats,’ she said, grinning.
I made a face. ‘Jesus, I have a terrible fear of them! They make me skin crawl.’
‘You get used to them, they’ve been living with us for so long they’re like family. My little brother has names for them all.’
I shuddered. There were plenty of rats in Paradise Alley but I had never got used to them.
The granddaddy had said that I was so genteel in my ways that I was destined to be a lady. Fat chance, I’d thought.
I’d been working at the house for a month and I was happy enough with my duties. The work was easy, easier than at Bretton Hall, and I did it to the best of my ability so that Mrs Cornish could find no reason to scold me.
I still hadn’t seen Nora and when I passed Mrs Grainger, she looked through me as if I was invisible. She had tricked me alright and I grew to hate her. This was a different woman to the one who had been all sweet and kind in front of Mother Ignatius. She’d fooled us all. Mrs Dobbs had told me that Mr Grainger was away working in America, I wondered if things would have been different with him here.
One day, Mrs Dobbs asked if I would mind taking Nanny Price’s dinner up to her. ‘Betsy is sick so she won’t be down for it.’
My heart leapt with joy, I was going to see Nora. ‘Of course I will, Mrs Dobbs,’ I said.
She smiled at me. ‘You’re a good girl, Cissy, but you’re not a happy one, are you, dear?’
‘I’m fine, Mrs Dobbs,’ I assured her.
‘I’m a good listener,’ she said, ‘and I’m no gossip.’
I waited while she handed me a tray. ‘The nursery is two floors up. I’d do it myself, but my legs aren’t what they were.’
‘I’m glad to do it, really I am.’
‘Then off you go and would you ask Nanny Price what she’d like for her supper?’
‘I will, of course.’
I was so full of excitement and joy and nerves I don’t know how I made it up the stairs without dropping the tray. I took a deep breath and opened the door.
A very overweight woman was sitting in a chair. Her eyes were closed and she was snoring. Her head was bent forward, resting on about three chins.
I put the tray down as quietly as I could and looked around. The nursery was beautiful. Three long windows took up most of one wall, bathing the room in warmth and light. Covering most of the floor was a thick gold rug, which matched the pale yellow walls. I could never give my baby all these fine things but I could give her something that no amount of money could buy, I could give her a mother’s love.
I checked to see that the woman was still asleep and walked over to the cot. Nora was wide awake. She stared up at me as if to say, ‘Where have you been?’ I reached down and lifted her into my arms. Oh, the joy of holding her close, feeling her cheek next to mine and smelling her sweet baby smell! I pulled a little button off her cardigan.
‘Put that child down at once!’ screamed the woman. ‘Who are you? What are you doing in my nursery?’
I wasn’t daft enough to make an enemy of this woman. ‘I’m so sorry, Nanny Price.’ I said. ‘I’m Cissy Ryan, I’ve just started working here. I brought up your dinner tray. The baby was whimpering and I saw that she was trying to put a button in her mouth… I was frightened that she was going to choke on it.’
‘A button?’ she said, horrified.
I opened my hand and showed it to her. ‘Did I do wrong?’
‘No, no, you didn’t do wrong, girl.’
‘I didn’t mean to interfere but I thought…’
‘You thought right. Now I think we should keep this to ourselves, don’t you? After all, there was no harm done. We don’t want to worry Mrs Grainger, do we?’
I placed Nora back in the cot. ‘You can trust me,’ I said. ‘After all, it wasn’t your fault that the button was loose.’
‘We understand each other, Cissy. Thank you for your quick thinking.’
‘Mrs Dobbs asked what you would like for your supper.’
‘I’d like a boiled egg and some toast and maybe a piece of fruit.’
‘How’s Betsy?’
‘She has the bellyache, Cissy – and between you and me she always has the bellyache.’
‘It must be hard having to cope with the baby all on your own.’
‘And nobody appreciates it, Cissy. It’s nice to have a sensible girl like yourself in the house.’
‘I’ll bring your supper up later then.’
‘It will be lovely to see you and I hope I can trust you with our little secret.’
‘My lips are sealed, Nanny Price.’
I was smiling as I walked back down the stairs. Not only had I not made an enemy of her, she thought I was her partner in crime. The granddaddy would have been proud of me this day. I knew now that I would be welcomed into the nursery any time Mrs Grainger was out of the way. I’d missed my vocation, I should have been an actress.
Oh, the joy of holding my child again.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Christmas at St John’s Wood was nothing like Christmas at Bretton Hall. There was a tree in the hallway that Maggie and I decorated and that was fun. We giggled as Maggie balanced on a ladder to put the star on the top. In the morning, all the staff gathered in the drawing room to receive presents from Mrs Grainger.
‘Happy Christmas, Cissy,’ she said handing me what turned out to be a bar of soap.
‘Thank you, Mrs Grainger,’ I said, smiling at her. ‘And a happy Christmas to you too.’
I could see that she had great difficulty looking me in the eye but I had to let her think that I was fine with the arrangements and that I enjoyed working for her. I wo
uld make my escape when I had somewhere else to go and until that time I would make as many visits to the beautiful nursery where my baby slept as I could. I knew that she was warm and fed and that’s all I cared about, but I had to find somewhere else that would take me and Nora in. There must be an alternative.
Sometimes I thought about going home and facing the music. Me and Nora would be safe there, but what if the Brettons laid claim to her? They had money, any judge would choose them to bring up Nora over me. I was writing home less and less because I didn’t know what to say to them any more; everything I wrote was lies.
Mrs Grainger dined alone. I thought it was a bit strange that Mr Grainger hadn’t joined her for Christmas. In the afternoon she visited a friend, taking Nora with her. I’d hoped she’d leave Nora behind so that I could spend some time with her, but I heard a car pull up outside and saw Mrs Grainger get into it, with Betsy holding Nora, wrapped in a blanket.
The rest of the day was our own to do as we pleased. Maggie was visiting her family and Mrs Dobbs said she was going to sleep the day away. I decided to go and see Mother Ignatius, to tell her the truth about my situation and beg for help.
It felt strange walking up the drive. I’d been gone for almost three months and it felt like a lifetime ago. I rang the bell and the door was opened by Sister Luke, who gave me the biggest hug,
‘Well, if it’s not yourself, Cissy Ryan, and aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Happy Christmas to you, child.’
‘Happy Christmas, Sister. I hope you don’t mind me calling on you this day.’
‘Mind? Sure, everyone will be delighted to see you, and why have you not brought your lovely baby with you?’
‘Oh, that I could have, Sister,’ I said sadly.
‘So I take it not everything in the garden is rosy up at St John’s Wood?’
‘You could say that, Sister.’
‘Are you wanting to see Mother Ignatius?’
‘As long as I won’t be disturbing her.’
‘Enough of that. Come in, come in. We are all in the sitting room, Cissy, but I take it you would rather see Mother in private?’
‘I would, Sister, and thank you.’