by Jess Foley
She closed the curtains and stepped back from the window. It was getting late, and she must be up early for her first day at the store.
As she put on her nightdress she told herself that she was sure she would never sleep. She was far too excited, far too anxious and nervous. So much that was unknown lay before her. She blew out the flame of the small lamp then got into bed and lay down. The mattress felt strange beneath her body, the pillow strange beneath her head, but she would get used to it. One good thing: the bedding was crisp and clean and smelled fresh. It was a factor that brought her relief, for she had heard numerous stories of people finding themselves caught in lodging houses that were dirty and riddled with vermin.
For a time she lay listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the night city and then she drifted off to sleep.
She entered the staff door of the emporium well before eight-thirty the next morning, and after making enquiries was shown to the postal order department. She had been told to report to a Mr Watson, the supervisor, and on her arrival found him already behind his desk, working at various papers and ledgers. He was situated at the side of a large room, a room filled with rows of long tables stretching right across it. Already dozens of men and women were arriving, relieving themselves of their coats and hats and taking their places at the tables.
Mr Watson was a man in his fifties, tall and somewhat stooping. He seemed very pleasant to Lydia, and as he spoke to her he broke off to exchange occasional greetings with the clerks. He explained to Lydia what the procedure was and what she would be expected to do. As she had learned, there were well over fifty clerks in the department, and all of them were there to facilitate the sending of items through the post. The emporium advertised widely, and customers sent in their orders from all over the west of England. The postal order department was there to deal with those orders, whether they were for a Turkish carpet, a pair of silk stockings, or a fashionable day dress.
As the other clerks were doing, Lydia was required to deal with orders that had come in that morning. Requisition documents had to be made out, along with advice notes and invoices, and these sent by messengers to the stock department. From there the goods would be forwarded to the despatch office where they would be packed and sent off to the customer. If any particular item was at present unavailable – either through being temporarily out of stock, or because the line had been discontinued – it was the job of the clerk to write to the customer to such effect.
The hours seemed to pass quickly, and Lydia had plenty of work to keep her occupied. She had to ask many questions of her experienced colleagues in the course of her learning, but that she was indeed learning she had no doubt. There was also more variety in her work than she had anticipated; she was by no means kept in the confines of the office all the time, for there were many occasions when she was required to go out into the store proper and make enquiries of some of the salesmen or saleswomen. In this way she began to learn more of the layout of the store and of the wide range of goods that were sold there.
On Tuesday evening, back in her room after getting in from finishing her working day, she sat down at the small table to write a letter to Ryllis. In it she told her a little about her work so far at the store and of how she was settling in. She then asked whether she and Ryllis could meet that coming Sunday.
On Saturdays, Lydia was required to work only until two o’clock, after which she was free until Monday morning, and it was on Saturday that she returned to Little Marsh Street to find a letter awaiting her from Ryllis. In it, Ryllis said she would come into Redbury the next day, and would meet Lydia in the small garden beside the square where they had finally found one another on their last meeting. So the next afternoon, just before two-thirty, Lydia crossed the square in Redbury towards the little garden – quite crowded on this bright, warm Sunday afternoon – and there saw Ryllis waiting for her, sitting on one of the benches in the shade of the laburnum tree. And seeing her there, she thought at once of her previous visit to the place, when she had met the stranger who had helped to gather up her strawberries.
Ryllis got to her feet as Lydia drew near, and the two embraced. Then they sat down side by side on the bench. Ryllis wore her blue dress with the grey trim, and her brown straw hat. Like Lydia on this hot day, she wore no cape.
‘Oh, Lyddy, it’s so warm!’ Ryllis fanned herself with her hand. ‘Let’s go somewhere and get out of the sun. It’s too hot sitting here.’
‘Where d’you want to go?’ Lydia asked. ‘It’s too early to go and have tea.’
‘Can we go back to your lodgings? I’m dying to put my feet up for an hour.’
‘Come on, then.’
As Lydia prepared to get up, Ryllis said, ‘Just a second. There’s something I have to tell you.’
‘What’s that?’
Ryllis paused. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet later on.’
‘Someone?’ Lydia’s eyes widened. ‘Are you meaning your Mr Thomas Bissett?’
Ryllis nodded. ‘The same.’ She smiled. ‘What do you think?’
‘Well, I’d love to meet him. What’s the arrangement?’
‘He’s coming into Redbury later. He hasn’t got much time, but I said we’ll meet him at four o’clock in the teashop next to the bank in the High Street.’
‘Excellent,’ said Lydia. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’ She looked about her. ‘Well – shall we go and have a rest somewhere in the meantime?’
Mrs Obdermann was just coming out of her sitting room when the sisters entered the hall of number 15, Little Marsh Street, and she looked with curiosity at Lydia’s guest. At once Lydia said to the woman, ‘Mrs Obdermann, this is my sister Ryllis, come to visit me for the afternoon from Barford,’ and the landlady gave a cool little smile and murmured a greeting.
Upstairs in Lydia’s room, the girls took off their hats and boots. Ryllis, giving a little groan of pleasure, lay back on the bed, her hands behind her head. Lydia sat in the one small easy chair. ‘So,’ she said, ‘what do you think of it?’
Raising her head just enough to look around, Ryllis said, ‘It’s nice, and it’s big enough, I reckon. I wish I had such a room at the Lucases’. Where do you eat?’
‘Downstairs in the dining room. I get breakfast there, and supper, served by Mrs Obdermann.’
‘What’s she like?’ Ryllis lowered her voice to little more than a whisper. ‘That was a very old-fashioned look she gave me when we came in.’
‘I know,’ said Lydia, her own voice very low, ‘but she’s all right. I think she’s just rather watchful as to who comes into her house. God forbid she should ever see a strange man here. She’d have a fit.’
‘Are there any other lodgers?’
‘Not right now, though usually, I understand, she has a second one. But never any men, and she allows no male guests. She’s made that clear.’
‘Well, there’s no danger of that, is there? You wanting to invite in a male friend. Mind you, now that you’re mixing with so many new people, who knows what the future might hold.’
‘Oh, Ryllis,’ Lydia gave a little laugh, ‘I’m not here in Redbury to form an attachment.’ Then, her tone serious, she added, ‘I had to leave. Even before Mother’s death I felt I wanted to go, but she needed me there. We never spoke of it, the notion of my leaving, but I know she’d have been heartbroken if I’d gone. It was bad enough for her when you left home – but to be left by both her daughters . . .’
‘Yes.’ Ryllis nodded.
‘And what was before me, living at home with Father, now that Mother was gone? I could see the whole picture. So clearly. Me staying on there, still working at Cremson’s, and in the house just looking after Father – cleaning, doing his washing; cooking and mending for him. That’s how it would go on, for years and years. It’s a common story, where one daughter is left in a house. You see it all the time. Look at Ursie Woodleigh in Capinfell – on her mother’s death taking over the job of looking after her father and two brothers, and ther
e she still is, well into her forties now and without a hope of ever getting a life of her own – a husband, her own children, her own home.’
‘Are you sure that isn’t what you’re looking for – a husband, children, your own home?’ Ryllis smiled, her eyes narrowed. ‘It wouldn’t be before time. After all, you’re twenty-one.’
‘I know I’m twenty-one – and I want to be free to make my own life. Father thinks I’ll end up unhappy, but that’s a chance I’ve got to take. If my life does turn out to go wrong, then that’s something I’ll have to deal with, but at least it will be my life.’ She gave an ironic smile. ‘I doubt anything could happen to me under Father’s watchful eye, but if something did happen – if I should meet someone special . . . Oh, I’ve read books where people are swept away by great passions. They love, they fall in love, and it changes their whole lives; their whole reason for living is different. I don’t understand it, of course, as I’ve never experienced it, but it seems that it must be a most – most miraculous thing.’ She grinned at her sister. ‘What about you, Ryllis? Have you been in love? Are you in love with your Mr Bissett?’
‘Oh, Lyddy,’ Ryllis said, clasping her hands before her, and sitting up. ‘Tom is a wonderful man. You wait till you meet him.’
Lydia gave a little nod. ‘I’m very happy for you.’ She turned and gazed from the window, looking out across the small gardens of the houses. ‘Sometimes I wonder what it must be like – to care for someone in such a way. I can’t even try to imagine.’ She fell silent for a moment, then she said, turning back to her sister, ‘Oh, what nonsense I do talk at times!’ Smiling, she added, ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you, Ryllis. It’s so good.’
‘Yes, it is,’ Ryllis replied, ‘but I thought you might want to go home today. You could have gone to Capinfell today and returned tomorrow evening. It would have been very easy.’
‘I know,’ Lydia said. ‘I thought of it. I seriously considered it – but then I thought it might be better to leave Father alone for a little while. I don’t wish to be cruel, but I thought it might be as well to let him get used to the situation for a bit. D’you see what I mean?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Besides, I wanted to see you.’ Lydia smiled. ‘And now I’m going to meet your Mr Thomas Bissett too.’
‘Yes!’ Ryllis gave a giddy little laugh. ‘Oh, Lyddy, I do hope you like him.’
‘Why shouldn’t I? If he’s half as nice as you make out, and a quarter as handsome, I should think anybody would like him.’ Lydia looked at Ryllis as she lay stretched out on the bed. She was so glad that Ryllis had met someone, and it was hardly any wonder, she thought, that Mr Thomas Bissett was so attracted to her; she was so pretty. Gazing at her as she lay on the bed with her heavy eyelids closed and her pink mouth relaxed, Lydia wondered how any young man could resist her.
She looked at her watch on the chest of drawers and saw that it was just on three-twenty. ‘We shall have to leave in a while,’ she said.
She closed the watch and set it down. There had been no response from Ryllis. She bent closer to her, and realised that she had fallen asleep. Smiling, she picked up a book and began to read.
‘You shouldn’t have let me sleep like that,’ Ryllis said as they crossed the square. ‘You should have woken me.’
‘I told you, I got reading and forgot things for a few minutes. It was hardly any time at all. We’ll only be a minute or so late.’
‘Even so. I don’t like to keep Tom waiting.’
Lydia took in the slightly anxious look on Ryllis’s face and said with a smile, ‘Ah, I’m sure he thinks you’re worth waiting for.’ Ryllis didn’t reply. Lydia added after a moment: ‘What are his parents like? Have you met them?’
Ryllis shook her head. ‘Oh, good heavens, no. They don’t know about us, that we’re meeting. Tom doesn’t want them to know just yet, so he’s keeping quiet on the matter.’
‘Why doesn’t he want them to know?’
‘He says the time isn’t right. He says they don’t want him to get – involved with anyone yet – not at his age – so he thinks it’s better to leave it for a few months. Then he’ll tell them.’ Ryllis put up a hand and gave her hair an unnecessary little touch. ‘All this rushing. I’m going to be so hot when we get there, and I wanted to look my best. I shouldn’t have slept like that.’
‘You were obviously tired.’
In a few seconds they were turning into the High Street, and there, a hundred yards further along, was the bank with the teashop beside it. Ten yards from the entrance Ryllis slowed and touched at her hat and smoothed down her dress. Then, with a shrug she moved on and stepped through the doorway. As they entered, she said, with relief in her voice, ‘Ah, there’s Tom,’ and snatching at Lydia’s hand, led her through the crowded room.
Thomas Bissett was sitting at a table situated near one wall and he rose and smiled at the two young women as they approached him. Ryllis said at once: ‘Oh, I’m sorry to be late, Tom, but I’m afraid I fell asleep in Lyddy’s room. Anyway, this is my sister Lydia. Lydia – this is Tom.’
‘How d’you do,’ Thomas said formally over the loud babble of voices around them, and Lydia greeted him likewise, adding, ‘I’m afraid it’s my fault that we’re a few minutes late. You must blame me for it.’
He nodded and took out his watch from his waistcoat pocket, opened it and said, ‘Almost fifteen minutes. ‘And with a smile, ‘I’ll let you off this time, but next time it’s the firing squad at dawn.’ Over his patterned waistcoat he wore a light tweed jacket. His trousers were fawn twill. He looked, Lydia thought, very smart.
‘Well, ladies, do sit down,’ he said. ‘Another reason I’m so pleased to see you is because I’ve had the devil’s own job hanging on to these seats.’
As the girls sat down, Lydia looked around them. The place was so crowded she couldn’t see an empty table, and she reflected that they were very lucky. When Thomas asked them what they wanted, they said they would have tea and a pastry, and he said he would have the same, though he had already drunk a cup of tea while he was waiting. He turned then and tried to catch the eye of the waitress, lifting his hand in the air. He certainly was handsome, Lydia thought, and proud looking too with his high, arched nose and strong brow.
‘These serving girls,’ he was saying irritably, ‘they take their own sweet time, don’t they?’
‘The poor thing’s so busy,’ Lydia said. ‘She’s run off her feet.’
‘Even so,’ he said, ‘we haven’t got all day.’
Eventually the girl came over to their table, and Thomas crisply gave the order and she went away again.
‘Well,’ he said to Lydia after the girl’s departure, ‘it’s so nice to meet you after all this time. I’ve heard so much about you.’
‘And I about you,’ Lydia replied.
He smiled at this. ‘And now, luckily,’ he said, ‘you’re living and working here in Redbury. That’ll make it easier for you and Ryllis to meet.’
‘Yes, it will.’
They had to raise their voices over the babble around them, and a couple of times Thomas looked about him, impatiently frowning at the noise. With no sign of the tea after a while, he caught the young waitress’s attention, and five minutes later she brought her tray to their table and set out the tea and pastries. Lydia poured out the tea and they began to eat and drink. As they did so, Lydia said to Thomas, ‘Ryllis tells me you’ve been living in London for a while . . .’
‘Yes, I have,’ he replied. ‘My uncle owns a small engineering company there, in Peckham. I’ve been learning some of the business.’
‘Have you enjoyed it – the work?’
‘Oh, in some parts. And living in London! Well, it’s very different from country life. Have you ever been to London?’
‘No. I’d love to go one day.’
‘Yes, I would too,’ Ryllis said. ‘I hear it’s a different world.’
‘Oh, it is,’ he said. ‘It is. You can’t imagine just how dif
ferent.’
‘Will you stay with the engineering work, then?’ Lydia asked.
‘I don’t know. I’ve come back now for these summer months to help my father out on the farm. He needs all the help he can get at such a time.’
‘I’m sure he must,’ Lydia said. ‘And when summer is over? What then?’
‘Nothing’s decided, but my folks have hopes of this and that. My father wants me to go to university.’
Ryllis said, ‘Go to university? Then you’d go away again.’
‘Oh, nothing’s settled,’ he said. ‘All kinds of things can happen.’
Ryllis then spoke up to say that Lydia had just finished her first week at Seager’s store, and Thomas politely asked Lydia a question or two about her work there. He did not seem unduly interested, however, Lydia thought, and she soon brought the subject to a conclusion. As she did so a small child nearby started up a crying wail and Thomas leaned across the table to murmur just loud enough for Lydia and Ryllis to hear, ‘God knows why people insist on bringing their squalling offspring into such places. I suppose they’re so used to the noise themselves they don’t notice it any more.’
The little girl ceased her crying after a while, and, pacified with a treat, was soon all smiles again. ‘There,’ whispered Lydia, ‘it’s amazing what a bit of cream cake will do.’
Five minutes later the child had left her seat and was coming to their table. ‘I had some cake,’ the little girl said to them. She was probably three years old. ‘I had some cake.’
Indeed, there were still traces of the cream cake on her hands and about her mouth. Not that this seemed unduly to concern her parents who gazed after her in a besotted way, as do most who think their children must of course be loved by every passing stranger. ‘Now, now,’ the young mother beamed after her child, ‘come along, Maisie. ‘We can’t’ ave you botherin’ people.’