by Anna Jacobs
Oh, hell, he shouldn’t be thinking about her like that. She was way out of his reach. What on earth had got into him today? It was a good while since he’d had feelings like that about a woman.
Once they’d finished eating, Patrick decided it was time he left. His leg was still aching, but he didn’t want to impose, so he pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘I’d better leave you to get on with your day now, Miss Cotterell.’ He hoped she hadn’t seen him wince as he put his weight on the leg.
‘I’d better go too.’ Rosie bounced to her feet.
But Georgie wasn’t having that. ‘No, please don’t leave yet, either of you.’
‘Are you sure?’ he asked.
‘Very sure. Sit down on one of the easy chairs again and have a rest, Mr Farrell. I can see how painful your leg is. It’ll still be crowded and noisy out there in the streets, and you don’t want to get bumped about.’
He gave in to temptation and eased himself down in the wonderfully comfortable armchair again. ‘Well – just for a little while longer.’ When Georgie found a footstool for him, he couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief as he put his bad leg up on it. It wasn’t usually this bad, but that sod had kicked it.
Rosie didn’t sit down but began stacking the dirty crockery on the tray Nora had left on a small table near the door.
Georgie let her do it and waited till she’d finished. ‘Thank you. Now, come and sit by the fire, Rosie. I want to ask you something.’
‘Ooh, miss, I don’t want to seem ungrateful but I really should be getting back.’ She shot a worried glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘They’ll have noticed I’m not there by now.’
‘You said they’d dismiss you for sneaking out.’
‘They probably will, but I’ll soon find another job.’
‘You’re looking shaken up still.’
‘I’ll be all right, miss. I’m feeling a lot better for having something to eat, thank you very much. It’s just … well, I panicked when I couldn’t stop that horrible man. My family may be poor, but we’re respectable and no man has ever … you know, grabbed me like that, let alone seen my underwear.’ Her face was scarlet by now.
‘What does your father do?’
‘He works for a carter. He’s good with horses, but there isn’t always work for him these days because a lot of horses were taken off to war, poor things, and anyway, he says more people are using motor cars. We manage, though, because Mam takes in washing and I give them my wages, and my younger brother brings in some money running errands.’
‘What exactly is your job?’
‘I’ve been doing sewing in a workshop, on a machine, but it isn’t a nice place to work and we girls have to live in. They treat us like slaves. The workshop had to close today because of the celebrations and the man from the council came round to check that it had, but they still didn’t allow us to go out. Mean, I call it unfair too, when everyone else is taking a holiday. I was that mad about it, I climbed out of the back window and on to the outhouse roof.’
Georgie studied her. ‘Do you really think they’ll sack you?’
Rosie hesitated, then sighed. ‘Sure to, miss. I’ll be all right, though. Mam will let me sleep on the sofa till I find another job. I just hope Mrs Dashton doesn’t keep my spare clothes and things, or I don’t know how I’ll manage.’
‘Who’s she?’
‘Matron of the workshop. She keeps an eye on the girls and the dormitory.’
‘Why would she keep your things?’
‘She did that when they sacked another girl. Compensation, she called it, for all they’d taught her.’
‘Then I’d better come back with you to get yours and make sure they don’t steal them as well.’
Rosie gaped at her. ‘You’d do that, miss?’
‘Yes. And if you’re looking for work, perhaps we can find you a job here. Would you be interested? We’re a maid short.’
‘Oooh, I’d love it. Only, will your housekeeper agree, miss? I’m not trained as a maid. All I know is sewing and helping Mam with the washing.’
Rosie was proving she wasn’t stupid by asking this question, Patrick thought, listening to the conversation with great interest. Georgie had a nice way with her, didn’t talk arrogantly to those poorer than her. He’d had officers like that, too. One had been the son of a lord but had spoken to the men beneath him as nice as you like.
‘We don’t have a housekeeper, Rosie. I manage the house and look after my bedroom myself, because we’re short-staffed. We have a daily cleaner and a washerwoman. Mathers and Nora share the other jobs. When Mathers isn’t out with my father, that is.’
‘Then it’ll be your father who has to agree to me working for you? Will he do it?’
‘He doesn’t usually concern himself with the servants. It’ll be all right for me to make the arrangements, I promise you.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll just carry this tray downstairs to the basement and have a word with Mathers and Nora about you. Please don’t go, Mr Farrell. I want to ask you something as well.’
As she moved towards the table, Rosie came forward. ‘I can take that, miss. I’m feeling a lot better now. You can’t beat good food for putting heart into you. And if I’m with you, Mr Mathers and Nora can ask me questions. They’ll want to know what I’m like.’
That lass still didn’t quite believe she’d get a job here, Patrick guessed.
As the door closed behind them, he leant his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. Just for a few moments.
In the kitchen Georgie explained the situation and both servants studied Rosie, who had stood to one side after she deposited the tray on the side table Nora pointed to.
Rosie studied the two servants just as closely and when Georgie had finished, said, ‘I’m a hard worker and I learn quickly. Miss Cotterell won’t regret taking me on, I promise you.’
After exchanging glances with Nora, Mathers said, ‘We can give it a try, then. You might not like the work, though. Some don’t.’
She couldn’t hide her amusement. ‘I’ll like any honest work that pays regular wages, Mr Mathers. Me and my family need to eat.’ She hesitated. ‘Only, I’d need paying weekly, because otherwise they’ll go short.’
‘That’s perfectly understandable,’ Georgie said. ‘I’ll come with you to pick up your things from the workshop.’
Mathers cleared his throat. ‘It’d be better if I went with Rosie, miss. I’ll make sure they don’t try to cheat her out of her belongings, I promise you. You should stay indoors now. They’re still making a racket out there and it’ll get worse as the daylight fades. If you don’t need me, now would be a good time to go. Shall I show Mr Farrell out first?’
‘No, thank you. I want to speak to him about something else.’
He looked doubtful, so she said, ‘I’m sure I’ll be perfectly safe with him. He isn’t likely to attack me.’
‘I could come and sit with you,’ Nora offered.
‘Thank you, but there really isn’t any need.’
Well, that had gone well, Georgie thought as she went back up to the morning room. Mathers was willing to give Rosie a chance, and from her expression so was Nora. They could definitely do with extra help around the house and the girl had a nice, open look to her face.
But they weren’t nearly as sure what to think about Mr Farrell.
She wasn’t either. She trusted him instinctively, but he didn’t seem to fall neatly into any category of society, which was unusual. He had more of an air of command about him than of servility, for all the way he spoke.
Before Mathers could do anything about Rosie the telephone rang. Mathers went into what had once been the butler’s room to answer it, closing the door.
His master’s voice said, ‘Shhh!’ so he cleared his throat. These were signals at both ends that this phone call was not to be discussed with anyone else and voices were to be kept low.
‘I’ve had to leave town suddenly. I can’t tell you when I’ll be back.’
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‘Could you give me a hint?’
‘Siebenzeit are causing trouble again and they seem to have acquired an unexpected ally. I fear I’m the target of his attention.’
‘Oh?’
‘Took me by surprise. You know how to contact me, but only if it’s desperate. Keep an eye on Georgie. Bring in help if necessary. I may be away a few days.’
‘Yes. Right.’
The phone went dead and Mathers hung the earpiece up on the holder, staring at it for a minute or two. This news had come as a shock to him. Not many people knew about this secret pro-German organisation that worked behind the scenes in Britain, but it was part of his master’s work at the bureau to keep an eye on them. Surely even these people would now accept that the war was over?
He went back into the kitchen and his worries must have shown on his face, because Nora asked, ‘Bad news, Mr Mathers?’
‘Yes. Um, a friend has been killed in the very last minutes of the war.’
‘Oh, I am sorry.’
‘Yes. So am I. Rotten luck, eh?’
He turned to Rosie. ‘Well, let’s get going.’
Chapter Three
When Georgie got back to the morning room she found Mr Farrell asleep, his exhaustion showing clearly on his face. He wasn’t sleeping peacefully, though, but was twitching and restless, as if having bad dreams.
She tried to close the door quietly, but it made a small clicking sound and he jerked awake, fumbling for an imaginary gun.
She saw anxiety flicker briefly in his eyes and said quickly, ‘It’s only me. Don’t get up. I’ll join you by the fire.’
By the time she sat down, his expression was calm again. She couldn’t help thinking how cosy it would be to sit here with someone and chat quietly. She spent far too much time on her own when she wasn’t working, because her father was out a lot, and though she met people when she worked, the women were mostly older and none of them had become close friends.
‘How did it go with Rosie?’ Patrick asked after a while.
‘She must have made a good first impression on Mathers, because he’s taking her to where she worked to get her things in case they try to keep them. They sound to be dreadful people.’
‘There are plenty like them around, ready to take the last farthing from those weaker than themselves.’
‘I was wondering what you were intending to do now, what sort of job you were looking for, I mean. Perhaps my father or I could help you?’
‘Kind of you to offer. Do you have a job for a mechanic with a gimpy leg?’
‘Is that what you want to do, work as a mechanic?’
He shrugged. ‘Sort of.’
She leant forward, curious about the expression of longing on his face. ‘Do tell me what you’d really like to do?’
‘It’s not possible.’
‘Tell me anyway.’
‘Well, all right. I have it all planned in my head. I used to dream about it in the trenches. It helped keep me going.’ He looked at her uncertainly.
‘Go on.’
‘I’d like to have my own workshop, where I could repair cars and motor bikes, sell motor spirit and other bits and pieces.’ He smiled. ‘The Americans I met call it gasoline and some people in both countries call it petrol, but I prefer “motor spirit”.’
‘How interesting. Do go on.’
‘I’d take on an apprentice, train him to become a mechanic. I did that in the Army, train lads, I mean, and I was good at it. I reckon there’s going to be a bright future working with cars for those who can get a start now. Rosie told us her father can’t find enough work with horses, and things will only get worse in that area.’
‘I agree with you.’
‘We’re only just getting started with road transport, but it’ll be like the railways, change people’s lives, and far more than most folk realise. With trains you’re tied to the rails; with cars you can go nearly anywhere, and on your own, not in groups.’
‘I know. That’s one of the reasons why I love driving.’
‘You do? There aren’t a lot of women who’d say that.’
‘I’ve been driving all over London doing war work, as I told you, but that’ll soon be over, I suppose. When things settle down, I’m going to buy my own car and then I’ll be free to go where I want.’
‘That’s an unusual ambition for a woman.’
She shrugged. ‘I think I must be an unusual woman, because I don’t want to spend my life looking after a house, let alone stay indoors most of the time. My father allowed me to join a group of ladies doing war work, but I think that was to keep me from joining the VADs. I’m sure he’ll want me to settle down to a quieter life once the war is over.’
Patrick nodded and fell silent. She stole another glimpse at him. For a few moments, as he spoke about his dreams, his eyes had been brighter, and she could understand that. She sat thinking about the picture he’d painted. What he’d said made sense to her and sounded not only interesting but promising as a new type of job. Only it’d probably cost too much for him to set up a workshop from scratch.
‘Do you have any money at all, Mr Farrell, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘Only what I’ve saved. And they didn’t pay us big wages in the Army, I can tell you. If I start at all, I’ll have to start in a small way.’
‘I have some money. It’s lying idle in a bank but I want to use it to do something interesting. And it’s one thing my father can’t control.’
He looked at her in puzzlement. ‘Your own money? What does that mean? The only money I have is what I’ve earned, but from what you’ve said you’ve never worked for wages.’
‘No, I haven’t. My grandmother left me an annuity, a sum of money which is invested and pays me interest every quarter. I gained control of it once I passed twenty-five. Before that, it was paid into a bank account in my name, so it mounted up over the years. It’s still lying there idle, because it doesn’t cost me anything to live with my father. As it’s not likely I’ll get married, I may use it to travel once the world settles down again.’ She added quietly, ‘But that’s a useless sort of life, isn’t it?’
The words escaped Patrick before he could consider what he was saying. ‘Why do you think you won’t get married? You’re a fine-looking woman and not stupid. A man would be lucky to have a wife like you.’
She could feel herself flushing. ‘Oh. Well, um, thank you. But consider the effects of the war on women like me. There won’t be enough husbands after so many have been killed. I’m not only getting on towards thirty, I’m too opinionated for most people’s taste. And I won’t play the meek wife, not for anything.’
He managed not to smile. He couldn’t imagine her being meek. She was too vivid.
The front door knocker suddenly sounded loudly, as if someone was impatient to get in.
She jumped to her feet. ‘What on earth—?’
He got to his feet more slowly. ‘Did you say Mathers had gone out?’
‘Yes. So I’d better answer the door.’
‘I’ll come with you. There are a lot of drunks hanging around in the street from the sound of it.’
Before Georgie got to the door, the knocker sounded again.
She saw Mr Farrell pick up a walking stick from the hallstand, clasping it below the curved handle, so that he could use it as a weapon if necessary. Taking a deep breath she unlocked the door, surprised to see Captain Jordan, who worked with her father, accompanied by a soldier.
‘Better let us in quickly,’ the captain said, interposing his body between her and the street. ‘You should stay well back from the door and windows from now on, Miss Cotterell.’
‘Why?’ Had her father sent him? What on earth was going on? How could she be in danger?
Mr Farrell touched her arm to indicate she should move backwards.
To her surprise the two soldiers followed her inside and the captain locked the front door without asking her permission.
She indicated the morni
ng room down the hall. ‘You’d better come and sit down, Captain.’
He turned to the soldier. ‘Stay on watch near the front door.’
He came into the room and closed the door but made no attempt to take a seat. ‘I’ve just come from the bureau. We’re here about your father, Miss Cotterell.’
She felt her heart lurch with fear. ‘What’s happened to him?’
‘We don’t know. He vanished on his way to work, told his driver there was something he had to do and got out of the car. He didn’t let anyone know where he was going. Major Butterly is worried about him.’
He walked across to the window. ‘Good. You’ve got wooden internal shutters.’ He pulled the shutters across, giving a strange half-light to the room.
She exchanged amazed glances with Mr Farrell. ‘What on earth is this about, Captain?’
‘Before I say anything else, I’d like to know who your visitor is.’
‘A former Army sergeant, who’s recovering from an injury.’
‘Known him for long, have you?’
She hesitated. ‘Well, no. But he saved me and another woman from trouble today, at some risk to himself.’
‘What regiment?’ the captain asked.
When Patrick told him, he asked about the regiment and his military service in general. He relaxed visibly at Patrick’s answers.
She was utterly bewildered by now.
The captain turned back to her. ‘Perhaps it would be better if you and Mr Farrell sat down, Miss Cotterell. I need to sort a few things out with you.’
She waited, bracing herself to hear bad news, she didn’t know why.
‘There was an important meeting this morning, which your father would never have missed voluntarily.’
‘Has the driver no idea where Father went?’
‘No. He was more than just a driver, of course, but a bodyguard too, as you’re no doubt aware.’
She opened her mouth to speak but he held up one hand to stop her.