A Different Kind of Love

by Sheelagh Kelly

  ‘I said it because it’s true!’ Jack tossed the starting handle in the car, before turning bashful and glancing at Beata. ‘Or rather I want it to be true.’

  ‘Then stop being so blasted long-winded about it!’ Lucy dealt him a shove.

  Jack threw up his arms at being so pressured and tried to make a joke of it. ‘I’m sorry about my bully of a sister, Beat! Will you walk out with me?’

  Too delighted to speak, she nodded.

  ‘There!’ Lucy grabbed her brother’s arm and laced it through that of her friend, holding it in place for a few moments until the trio broke up laughing and, getting into the car, headed for home.

  When they pulled into the drive, Jack dropped his sister off at the lodge.

  ‘Now, you’re not going to go all coy again the moment I’m gone?’ demanded Lucy of her brother. ‘When I come to work tomorrow I want the gossip to be that you and Beat are courting.’

  Jack laughed. ‘It’s a promise.’ Then he drove off with the intention of depositing Beata right outside the house.

  Nursing her desires, Beata prepared to be kissed.

  As they approached, though, the headlights picked out a waiting figure, and a most annoyed-looking one at that.

  Beata leaned over the back of his seat. ‘I thought you said the major gave you permission to take the car, Jack?’

  ‘He did!’

  It certainly did not appear to be the case as a curt Major Herron waited for them to get out, then gestured at the open door behind him. ‘Come into the hall, Lister. Beata, you may go to your room.’

  Taking this unusual route through the square black-and-white tiled hallway, Beata murmured thanks and, head down, rushed upstairs, but once around the bend in the staircase she crouched to eavesdrop through the wrought-iron banisters.

  ‘I don’t appreciate having my good nature taken for granted by my staff, Lister, nor do I take kindly to being kept from my bed, so I’ll come straight to the point! I did not go to the expense of having that made so that you could go out gallivanting!’ He was pointing at Jack’s chauffeur’s suit. ‘It was intended to be reserved for when you are on duty.’

  ‘I’m awfully sorry, sir. You said I could take the car so I didn’t think you’d mi—’

  ‘Well, I do mind! You told me that you’d be going only as far as the village pub. I decided to have a stroll down there myself, only to discover Spaven holding court in his new attire as if he were lord of the manor and to be informed that my chauffeur had gone somewhat further afield and was no doubt disporting himself in similar fashion!’

  Poor Jack! Beata felt awful at witnessing his dressing-down, but if she moved now she might creak the stairs. What on earth would she do if he were sacked?

  ‘I’ve given him strict warning that his suit is only to be worn in working hours, and just in case there is any temptation I have also given him a couple of stripes to stitch down the legs of his trousers so that he won’t be in a hurry to misuse them again. As for you…’ The furious major took out a pocket knife and, with several concise movements, removed every metal button from Jack’s coat until there was a pile of them on the hall table. ‘I intend to have the family crest stamped on these. You can wear your old suit until you get them back.’

  Beata sagged in relief that Jack was to be spared expulsion.

  ‘The money for the petrol you used will be deducted from your pay. You can also attach this to your breast pocket.’ He thrust an embroidered patch at Jack; it bore the family crest. ‘So there will be no mistake in future as to who owns the suit and the car! Dismissed.’

  Jack slunk out into the night and Beata, seeing the major about to head up the staircase, scampered to her bed.

  * * *

  In the morning, she hardly dared face him. Would he guess she had been privy to his humiliation? If he did then he never said a word on the few occasions he journeyed into the kitchen to collect washing implements for the car, nor was any comment made on the relegation to his old suit. Having spent half the night sewing the stripes on his own trousers, Mr Spaven was in a foul temper and the mood below stairs was dreadful until well after the midday meal when the butler took an afternoon nap, allowing the others some relief.

  ‘What on earth’s got into him?’ whispered Mrs Temple, pouring herself a cup of tea and collapsing into a chair. ‘I made one remark on his trousers and he blew up. I’ve had to tiptoe round my own blasted kitchen all morning.’

  Beata lowered her voice and quickly explained about the previous night.

  Lucy breathed a quiet exclamation. ‘I wondered what was up with our Jack. I expected him to be all smiles and sunbeams now that he’s finally asked you to walk out with him.’

  The explosion of noise that followed this remark risked waking the butler but the cook and maids dismissed this completely to offer their congratulations to Beata.

  Fearing that Jack had changed his mind she looked most embarrassed and apologetic when, at the height of this boisterous celebration, he entered.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Mrs Temple turned on him.

  ‘Tell you what?’ Jack looked wary.

  ‘About you and Beata walking out together?’

  ‘Oh that!’ Realizing that they had not been discussing last night’s fiasco, Jack broke into a smile, becoming somewhat abashed. ‘Well, it’s private, isn’t it? Between me and Beat.’

  ‘So when are you going to make an honest woman of her?’ demanded Mrs Temple, causing Beata to squirm.

  ‘Nay, we’ve just got together, Mrs T!’ A grinning Jack went to replace his bucket under the sink. ‘But don’t worry, you’ll be the first to get a wedding invitation.’

  And for Beata this was as good as a proposal.

  * * *

  The announcement that she and Jack would one day be married, whilst wonderful, was to make little difference to Beata’s situation. Oh, he took her to the pictures and sometimes held her hand in the dark, but in all the months that followed he had not plucked up the courage to kiss her properly.

  ‘Could it be my breath?’ After many a chaste outing Beata finally sought to ask her friend as she and Lucy wandered around town looking for dresses to wear for the Christmas ball.

  ‘Give us a sniff.’ Lucy bent nearer. Then, ‘No, it’s just our Jack being backward – Eh, what do you think of that one?’ She pointed at a russet dress on display. ‘It’s your colour.’

  Beata unconsciously twiddled a strand of her auburn hair. ‘Yes, but it makes my teeth look too yellow.’ She eyed a passing girl whose laughing conversation with her partner revealed a pearly white smile. ‘I wish they were like that, so white and even.’

  ‘Don’t we all,’ said her friend.

  Sauntering on, they were assaulted by ether fumes from a dental surgery, causing Lucy to exclaim on a whim, ‘Eh, do you fancy some new ones? Then you can buy the dress you really want!’

  ‘I don’t know if I could afford it.’

  ‘It costs nowt to ask!’ The impulsive Lucy dragged her into the dental reception, whereupon both consulted a price list.

  ‘They’re not as dear as I thought,’ mused Lucy, then pointed excitedly at a grinning set of dentures. ‘Oh, look, those are just the ticket! Such natural pink gums. I wonder what they’re made of.’

  ‘Vulcanite,’ provided the rather haughty receptionist.

  Lucy made her decision. ‘Right, I’m having some!’

  Beata had to agree that the false ones were much better than their own and the two sat down to wait amongst the ether fumes. ‘I love that smell, don’t you?’ She inhaled long and deep. Her friend beheld her as if she were mad, then was called into the surgery.

  Whilst Lucy’s request met success, the dentist seemed reluctant to pull out every one of the younger girl’s teeth. ‘Might you not prefer a half-set to be going on with?’ But Beata had made her mind up and insisted she would like the same as her friend, if he would be so kind.

  Kind he might be, but the experience was far from plea
sant and as she and Lucy stumbled giddily into the street later, dabbing at their bloody aching mouths, Beata felt that her actions might have been somewhat misguided, especially when it was impossible to enjoy their usual tea at the café.

  But the discomfort was to be worthwhile when she and her friend went home to show off their brand-new smiles, receiving the admiration of their peers, Jack being most complimentary of all. With most of the work over for the day, the servants were at liberty to gather round and Beata and Lucy were still the centre of attention when their employer came unnoticed upon the scene.

  Jack jumped guiltily aside, ‘Sorry, sir, I didn’t hear you come in! Is the bell not working?’

  ‘Stand easy, Lister.’ A benign Major Herron motioned for him to relax. Quick to forgive, things were back to normal between them now and the episode with the suit was long forgotten. ‘I’ve no desire to spoil anyone’s fun. I just came for a word with my butler.’

  Entering at this juncture, stolen pheasant in hand, Bert Spaven looked aghast and instantly swivelled on his heel to spirit his booty away.

  Witnessing this over the major’s shoulder, Jack faltered. ‘Er, I’ll just go and look for him, sir!’ And he escaped from the kitchen.

  Most of them having spotted the butler’s dilemma, no one knew what to say. Percy broke the awkward hiatus, indicating the newspaper that he was forbidden to read and stammering, ‘Mr Spaven tells us some general’s predicting there might be only another twenty years of peace before there’s a new war with Germany. What do you think, sir?’

  ‘I’m afraid I have to agree with that prediction.’ Major Herron clasped his hands behind his back, looking momentarily serious. ‘It still rankles in the Teutonic mind that we destroyed their empire. They won’t be satisfied until they’ve had another bash. It was a grave error to pull our troops out of the Rhineland – but we shall thrash them again if need be so you must have no worries on that score.’ He brought his hands together in a cheerful clap. ‘Anyway, I didn’t come here to ruin your evening with discussions of the Hun but the more pleasant matter of Christmas festivities.’

  ‘Oh, that’s what we were just talking about before you came in, sir!’ Mrs Temple preened under her employer’s attention. ‘Lucy and Beata were showing off the new teeth they bought to go with their frocks. Aren’t they grand?’

  ‘Splendid, splendid!’ Major Herron bent forward to examine the girl’s manufactured smiles. ‘Could do with a pair myself – Ah, Spaven, there you are!’ The butler entered without a feather ruffled and was immediately engaged in arrangement of the coming festivities.

  Whilst the major was otherwise occupied, Jack and Beata shared a secretive laugh, the former whispering, ‘Mr Spaven cut it a bit fine that time!’

  Finer than he might suspect.

  About to depart, the major said, ‘Well, I’ll leave you good people to it …’ Then something prompted him to say, ‘Ah, I’ve been meaning to ask what has happened to the silver mug from the display cabinet in my study.’

  There was silence, everyone looking at each other enquiringly. A spirit of unease began to descend.

  The major addressed himself to Percy. ‘Madden, I seem to recall that you removed the contents for cleaning last week and that particular item has not been replaced.’

  The footman looked guilty. ‘I did, sir, but I never noticed anything missing when I put the stuff back. Was it the one bearing your regimental insignia?’

  ‘No, the rather ugly one with the twisted handle. I don’t care for it but I should like to know where it has gone.’ Major Herron became less amiable now, suspicious even.

  Even though she knew nothing about it whatsoever, Beata felt culpable under the major’s accusing look, as did everyone else.

  ‘Then I’m afraid there’s nothing else for it than to search every room and as this was the last place the mug came before its disappearance we must start down here.’

  Beata felt sick at coming under suspicion, dreading the thought of her underwear drawer being rifled.

  But the thief showed himself to have some vestige of honour. ‘No need, sir, it was me.’

  ‘What have you done with it?’ Major Herron showed little emotion, not even surprise, merely looking his old batman in the eye.

  ‘Sold it, sir.’ Bert’s pock-marked face looked hangdog. ‘I’m very sorry.’

  The major gave a curt nod. ‘So am I.’ He sounded betrayed. ‘And it is only because of your otherwise excellent service that I do not call the police. Lister, would you escort Spaven to collect his belongings, then see him off the premises?’

  How quickly it all happened: one moment lord of the roost, the next cast out in front of his minions.

  With the major remaining in the kitchen until the culprit had gone, no one could relax, Beata least of all. It was a dreadful five minutes. However, there was to be unexpected compensation.

  Major Herron was sombre. ‘I very much regret that all of you had to fall under suspicion because of Spaven’s treacherous act. We can only be glad that he chose to make his admission before further harm was done. That said, he has left us in a very dire state. It will be impossible to find another butler so near to Christmas.’ He looked at Jack. ‘Lister, do you think you and Madden could double up as butler until we find someone? It will mean a lot of extra work but I should greatly appreciate it.’

  Jack and Percy said they would, of course. Thanking them, the major brought this very distasteful episode to a close and bade his servants good night.

  In the excited aftermath, everyone twittering about Spaven’s audacity and how on earth he was going to find work after this, Jack turned to Beata. ‘Eh, what a turn-up! I never thought to see myself butler.’

  ‘Joint butler,’ corrected Percy. ‘And it’ll probably be me who gets the lion’s share, being more used to working in the house than you. You never know, they might not need to get anyone else in after they’ve seen what I’m capable of.’

  After much good-natured jousting between the two young men, Jack gave Beata a quick hug and asked, ‘How do you feel about being married to a butler, then?’

  Glowing with affection, Beata was too excited to do anything more than shrug with glee. This was more than she could ever have hoped for.

  * * *

  As envisaged, Jack was kept extremely busy with all the extra chores during the weeks up to Christmas, as indeed was everyone else below stairs. Ignorant as to where Bert had secreted the pheasant, they knew very well he had not taken it with him for they were overwhelmed by its awful smell and searched every downstairs room high and low as, under the influence of roaring fires, it went from gamy to putrid and made their lives a misery, permeating not only nostrils but clothing too. Exposed to such stench, there was the danger that the Christmas dance frocks would become contaminated and therefore unwearable. But eventually, following her nose, Beata found the bird at the bottom of an umbrella stand from whence it was quickly removed and disposed of.

  The servants’ ball was extra special this year. Christmas one of the few occasions when the staff saw their employer’s afflicted wife, Beata was pleased to comment that the mistress seemed in much better spirits tonight. That the poor lady was enjoying herself made Beata feel happier too. She looked around the upstairs dining hall that had been transformed for the night to a ballroom, sharing everyone’s enjoyment. It was altogether an excellent time, for Maddie had written to say she had passed her exams and was now working at a hospital in Nottingham; moreover, she was arranging to come to The Retreat in York to train in psychiatric nursing. Forgetting all the annoying characteristics, Beata was glad for Maddie’s achievement, glad too for the coming reunion and looked forward to delivering her own exciting news whenever her sister did come to York. She had already told Gus but had warned her not to broadcast it for Jack had not yet informed his parents of his marriage plans. Mr and Mrs Lister were obviously aware of the couple’s mutual fondness though, treating Beata like a member of their family as they did. They we
re at the ball tonight, standing beside her. She turned to smile fondly at these surrogate parents, before the band struck up and she found herself in demand.

  Following custom, the major started off the dancing with one of the housemaids and this year the honour fell to Beata. Naturally, though, she much preferred to pair up with Jack and, apart from one or two dances with men from other households, was glad to find herself in his arms for most of the evening.

  Exhausted but happy, she took a short rest whilst Jack went off to fetch her a cup of punch. Mr and Mrs Lister were still enjoying the dancing, as was Lucy, so leaving Beata temporarily alone to sit and listen to the music and to eye everyone’s attire as they waltzed past her chair. Smiling admiringly, her gaze picked out May and Percy, following them for a while. How elegant they looked. No one would guess they were servants. May had on a very modern beaded dress – she must have saved up for ages to afford that, thought Beata – plus silver shoes and a matching purse to complete the outfit.

  Her eyes became fixed to the little silver purse that dangled from May’s arm. Suddenly she was transported to another Christmas, a cruel Christmas, the sound of Eliza’s nasty laughter overwhelming all. How dreadful that, even now, she could spoil Beata’s life. How could one behave so towards a little child?

  ‘Beat, what on earth’s wrong?’

  She looked up quickly to find Jack frowning at her in concern, but could not speak for she was as confused as he.

  Moved by her tear-filled eyes he quickly put the drinks aside and sat down beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders. ‘Is it owt I’ve done?’

  Beata shook her head quickly and took a deep breath. ‘No, no, it’s … just things from a long time ago.’

  But though she tried her best to cover it he could see she was distraught and, after a quick glance around him, he took her by the hand and led her from the ballroom to a quieter place.

  In an annex that housed the warming cabinets, little more than a cupboard itself, he put up a hand to stroke her hair, projecting gentle concern. ‘I don’t know what to do to make it better.’