‘Do I look all right?’ asked Jeanie. ‘I don’t want to appear down at heel. I want Mr Bailey to think we’re respectable folk who can be trusted.’
Evie stopped walking and pulled her mother round to face her. She tipped her straw hat a fraction further forward and brushed a tiny speck of dust off the lapel of her floral print jacket. It was old but Sue had made it from quality cotton spun and woven in Bolton and, with its eye-catching colours and sharp tailoring, it had stood the test of time and was a fine advertisement for Sue’s dressmaking skills.
‘Mum, you look lovely,’ Evie told her mother truthfully. ‘Now let’s see which one’s Marlowe House.’
They walked round the square, reading the names on smart plaques beside the front doors, and soon came to the right one. Evie opened the iron gate and Jeanie led her through and up the steps to the front door.
She took a deep breath and had just put her hand out to ring the bell when the door was flung open and a furious-looking woman, wearing an overall and with her hair tied up with a scarf, erupted out of the house.
‘You can keep your flipping job, you old bastard!’ she yelled back through the open door. ‘Don’t you threaten me with the police. Years I’ve slaved for you, and poor thanks I’ve had for it. I’ve seen pigs keep themselves cleaner. You can stew in your own muck. I deserve better and I only took what should have been mine. I’ve had enough!’
She picked up an ornament from a side table beside the door and hurled it back down the hall. Evie and Jeanie heard the tinkle of shattering china and unconsciously they clutched each other as the harridan, oblivious, stomped past them, down the steps and through the gate, leaving it open in her wake.
Evie’s heart was pounding as she turned to see her mother was white with shock.
‘Oh, Mum, whatever can have happened? I think we ought to go. I don’t like it here at all.’
‘Me neither, Evie. Come on …’
As they began to retrace their steps a calm and educated voice called behind them, ‘Please don’t mind Mrs Summers. She can be a bit ill-tempered, though, truth be told, she was a very good cleaner. Pity she wasn’t a more honest one.’
Jeanie quickly tried to gather herself as she turned back to see who had spoken.
He was a tall, very lean and good-looking man in his fifties, his greying dark hair in need of a cut. He was wearing a moth-eaten old cricket pullover, and a kerchief – such as a pirate might wear in an adventure story, thought Evie – knotted round the frayed neck of his collarless shirt. Jeanie looked him up and down in astonishment and thought without a doubt that he was the most untidy – and the handsomest – man she’d ever seen.
‘Mr Bailey?’ she asked, suddenly feeling strangely breathless.
‘I am Frederick Bailey,’ the tall man replied with astonishing dignity considering what his ex-cleaner had just called him in front of strangers.
‘Er … I’m Ginette Carter, and this is my daughter, Evelyn.’
‘How do you do,’ said Mr Bailey. ‘How can I help you?’
Oh dear, he doesn’t seem to have heard of us. Living at Pendle’s is all an awful mistake. Or maybe this is the wrong person and we should be at the other Bailey’s house? As this thought flashed through Evie’s mind she saw her mother’s puzzled face reflecting the very same thing.
‘I … I’m wondering if you might be our new landlord,’ Jeanie persevered. ‘Pendle’s? In Church Sandleton?’
‘Yes, I suppose I must be, if that’s where you’re living,’ Mr Bailey replied vaguely. ‘Come in, please …’
He stood back to let Jeanie and Evie pass through the smart front door and into the hall where shards of pink and white porcelain lay strewn across the floor.
‘Pity about the shepherdess,’ he said. ‘I’d got a buyer lined up for her, too. Still, there we are …’
Evie caught Jeanie’s eye behind the man’s back and shrugged nervously. This man wasn’t like anyone she had ever met, and though the coarse, shouting woman had gone she still didn’t feel at all comfortable here.
Jeanie, too, felt out of place in this strange house, with this odd man, but as she looked around the elegant little hallway Mr Bailey turned to her and smiled, and it was a smile she understood.
CHAPTER FIVE
Frederick Bailey showed Evie and Jeanie into a beautifully decorated room overlooking the square. Evie realised she was gaping at all the ornaments on every surface and quickly closed her mouth.
‘So, Mrs Carter … Pendle’s. I do hope everything is all right. I haven’t been over to the old place for a long while. I’ve a man who sees to things like that for me.’
‘Oh, yes, I haven’t come to complain,’ said Jeanie, sitting down in an armchair that Frederick Bailey indicated. ‘But we’ve been there more than a week now and hadn’t heard from anyone, and I was wondering … that is, we wondered … about the rent …’
When her mother seemed to have ground to a halt, Evie continued, ‘And my grandmother is a very talented seamstress and wants to open a sewing business in the shop part. We thought we’d better make sure that was all right … that you’d allow it and that we can paint the place and make it more suitable.’
‘You may do as you like,’ Frederick Bailey said. ‘I’m not a man for strict rules and regulations.’
‘So we can go ahead?’ asked Evie eagerly. She couldn’t help her wide grin – this was exactly what she had hoped for. ‘Thank you.’
Mr Bailey laughed. ‘Well, I’m glad about that,’ he said.
‘What about the rent?’ prompted Evie. She looked sideways at her mother but Jeanie seemed lost in thought and was gazing around the room with real interest. ‘We mean to make a go of the sewing, and my dad has a job, too, so we can pay what’s fair.’
‘Ah, so there’s a Mr Carter … I was wondering about your father,’ said Mr Bailey. ‘What is it he does?’
‘He works at Clackett’s market garden, across from Pendle’s.’
‘Does he indeed?’ Mr Bailey paused to think. ‘Well, how about ten shillings a week? How does that sound?’
‘Oh, Mr Bailey, that’s marvellous! Ten shillings? Are you sure that’s all?’ gasped Evie. Again she looked at her mother, but she was still distracted by the unusual room and gave no reaction.
Frederick Bailey waved a hand as if to dismiss the subject. ‘I’ll have my man, Jack, collect the payments.’
‘Jack? Would that be Jack Fletcher? We haven’t met him yet but it was he who arranged for us to come to Pendle’s.’
‘Yes, Jack Fletcher works for me. No doubt you’ll meet him soon. There’s nothing for you to worry about, Evelyn.’
‘It’s all becoming clearer now.’
Evie realised how anxious she’d become about their new home and these people none of them had met. What a relief it was to have it all sorted out. Coming here today had been exactly the right thing to do.
‘Thank you, Mr Bailey,’ she said. She nudged her mother, who was still occupied with her own thoughts. ‘Mum …?’
‘Thank you, Mr Bailey. That’s right good of you,’ Jeanie said, smiling up at him.
‘Please, call me Frederick. Now, forgive my manners, I should have offered you tea, but I’m without Mrs Summers, as you know only too well.’
‘Let me help,’ Jeanie said without hesitation, throwing off her distraction. She was on her feet instantly.
‘That’s uncommonly kind of you, Mrs Carter.’
‘Jeanie, please.’
‘Jeanie. Why don’t we all go down?’
He led the way into the hall, pushing fragments of the broken ornament aside with his foot, then down a curving staircase at the end to a basement kitchen that looked old-fashioned and equipped very much as Mrs Russell’s was, to Evie’s eye. She could imagine Annie being quite at home here, though Annie wouldn’t have had the dirty breakfast crockery piled up in the sink. The cups Mr Bailey set out were a strange mix: a pot mug and a couple of delicate teacups of different sizes with mismatche
d saucers. Didn’t he have a tea set to use when visitors came, Evie wondered.
‘This is pretty,’ she said, taking up one of the fine cups to admire it while her mother saw to the kettle.
‘Yes, but almost worthless without its own saucer, I’m afraid,’ said Frederick. He searched absent-mindedly for the tea caddy, which Jeanie found in an obvious cupboard next to the stove, then asked his two visitors about their plans for the sewing business while the tea was brewing in a brown Bessie pot, just like the one at home.
‘My mother’s idea,’ said Jeanie.
‘It’s Grandma who’s the expert,’ said Evie proudly. ‘She’s brilliant at sewing and can do all sorts of things – make clothes and do alterations and mending, too. She made that jacket Mum’s wearing.’
‘Evie …’ tutted Jeanie.
‘Very pretty,’ said Frederick, looking at Jeanie, who gazed straight back at him, smiling.
‘And she can make up a pair of curtains in no time.’
‘She sounds very special, your grandmother,’ Frederick said, handing round the china cups and saucers and taking up the mug of tea himself. ‘And are you both going to work with her?’ He looked at Jeanie when he asked this but it was Evie who answered.
‘Oh, yes. Grandma wouldn’t have it any other way,’ she prattled on. ‘She’s a great one for family sticking together.’
‘Well, I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Jeanie quietly but firmly. ‘It’s you and Grandma who have the eye and the patience for sewing. I never helped with the mending in Shenty Street. I reckon you could get on fine without me.’ She ignored Evie’s open mouth of astonishment. ‘What I was wondering, Frederick, was if you think Mrs Summers has left for good and whether you are in need of a cleaner? Or …’ she looked around and then back to him with her pretty smile, ‘… a housekeeper?’
Frederick began laughing quietly.
What on earth was funny? And what was Mum on about? Evie felt her heart thumping loudly. Starting the sewing business had been decided, hadn’t it? She looked from her mother to Frederick Bailey and suddenly felt something was happening here that she didn’t understand.
Jeanie was standing waiting quite calmly for him to answer her.
‘A housekeeper … Do you know, Jeanie, I think you’d be quite perfect,’ he said eventually.
‘But, Mum, what about the sewing?’ Evie didn’t want to question her mother in front of Mr Bailey but she had to say something before it was too late. ‘It was going to be the three of us working together, same as in Shenty Street,’ she reminded her, her voice almost pleading. Where had this new idea come from? It wasn’t part of the plan at all. And what would Grandma Sue have to say?
‘Well, Evie, we’re not in Shenty Street any more. It’s different now,’ Jeanie said. Though she spoke quietly her tone was very sure. She smiled at their new landlord to show there was no criticism in her words and then looked around at the pile of unwashed dishes, the newspapers strewn across the kitchen table and the loaf of bread left out drying among a pile of crumbs.
‘You’ve grasped the situation precisely,’ Frederick replied, sounding delighted. ‘When were you thinking of starting?’
‘Tomorrow – would that suit you? Shall I do mornings and see how we get on?’
Evie gasped. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Even Grandma Sue didn’t take the lead like that without discussing things first.
‘But, Mum—’ she started.
‘I don’t doubt we’ll get on brilliantly, Jeanie,’ said Frederick, extending his hand to shake hers.
‘So what happened then?’ asked Sue, pouring cups of tea to wash down their lunchtime sandwiches. Michael had returned to Clackett’s for the afternoon, pleased with the news of the low rent and his wife’s new job, and the boys had gone out to play somewhere.
Jeanie and Evie were telling Sue more about their morning in Redmond. The way her mother recounted the events once she and Evie had entered Frederick Bailey’s house lacked some detail; so much so that Evie thought it was just one version of the meeting with their landlord and she might have told it in altogether another way. Nonetheless, it was a sort of truth.
‘He showed us round the house so that I could see exactly how much work it’s going to be. He’s an art and antiques dealer – buys and sells old things like paintings and ornaments, pretty but useless – and the house is full of the stuff. It’s everywhere and it all needs to be dusted. He says some of it is quite valuable and I’m to be careful.’
‘Must be odd to live in a house that’s full of things you mean to sell,’ said Sue. ‘I wonder he doesn’t become fond of them and want to keep them.’
‘He may, for all I know. It’s nowt to do with me,’ said Jeanie with a shrug. ‘But I think this job will suit me better than sewing. I was never one for stitching – you know that.’
‘I know no such thing,’ said Sue, sharp as a tack. ‘But I reckon you’ve made your mind up. And at least you got the rent sorted out, so that’s one good thing.’ She looked at Evie. ‘Come on, love, let’s decide on the colour for the walls now we’ve got the front room all prepared. We can get on since we’ve got permission, even if it’s only us two.’
They went through to the front, leaving Jeanie to wash up.
‘We’ll have to choose a nice light colour. I can’t be sewing anywhere dark with my old eyes,’ said Sue.
‘I’d like yellow,’ said Evie. ‘A light shade of yellow – like primroses. Do you think that would be all right for your eyes, Grandma?’
‘I reckon it would, lass. We’ll see what we can find. Now tell me, you’re not too sorry your mum’s not to be working with us after all, are you?’
Evie knew better than to deny it but she was surprised at the surge of disappointment that swept through her once again as she said, ‘I wanted it to be like it was in Shenty Street – all us women together, like you said. I couldn’t believe it when Mum said to Mr Bailey that she could be his housekeeper without even asking me if I minded – or if I thought you would mind either.’
‘I’m disappointed, too, love, but your mother will go her own sweet way. She always was one for getting what she wants. It was the same when she first set eyes on your dad. Nowt I could say would change her mind – not that I haven’t got used to him and his ways,’ she added kindly.
‘You’ve another letter from Evie,’ said Ada, handing it to Billy as he came in from work. ‘She’s a keen writer, I’ll say that for her.’
‘I’m glad of that,’ Billy grinned.
‘Well, just remember what I’ve said. I know you’re fond of her but Evie doesn’t live here any more,’ Ada advised. ‘It’s hard to keep up a … a friendship in letters. She might not always be so keen to stay in touch, lad. You don’t know what folk she’ll meet in the south. She’s Michael Carter’s daughter, don’t forget, and we all know how reliable he is.’
‘Yes, Mum, but she’s Sue Goodwin’s granddaughter, too, and there’s no one more sound than Mrs Goodwin. I’m thinking of getting a train down one weekend and meeting up. It’ll be lovely to see her and nice to see where she lives.’
‘Oh, aye? Well, don’t go getting your hopes up, our Billy. There’s girls round here, too, you know.’
‘Yes, Mum, I know there are girls round here,’ said Billy patiently, and took his letter upstairs to read in peace.
Dear Billy,
Thank you for your letter. I always look forward to hearing from you. Your letters are the best thing to happen and I can’t wait for them to arrive.
I hope you’ve had a good week.
Grandma and me have been really busy getting ready for our first customers. I’ve put a notice up in the village store and our shop is painted now. It’s a sort of cream colour. We wanted yellow but we couldn’t find anything nice so we went for the nearest. Pete and Bob helped. Pete did the ceiling, bless him, but Bob just made a mess. I suppose he is only little.
Mum is enjoying being housekeeper to Mr Bailey. She’s st
arted taking more care of herself and is more cheerful – I’d got quite worried about her in Shenty Street when we were working so hard on the washing – and though I saw for myself that Mr Bailey’s house is a big job she doesn’t look too weary when she gets home. It seems odd that Mr Bailey pays Mum and then Mum pays Jack Fletcher, Mr Bailey’s man, who comes for the rent!
We all like Jack. He’s very friendly and knows all kinds of people. He found a big table for the shop, which will be useful when we’re cutting out or making curtains. He even delivered it to us.
Jack and Dad sometimes go together to the Red Lion in the village. I’m glad Dad’s got someone to go with and see him home in good time, although if Jack isn’t around Dad goes on his own and tends to stay later. Mr Clackett doesn’t hold with drinking, he says, though Dad sometimes goes to the Lion at dinnertime instead of coming here for his dinner. There aren’t card games or bookies’ runners at this pub so I’m hoping no harm will come of it.
I know Sundays can be difficult travelling by train but you said you were thinking of coming down. It would be lovely to see you, Billy. Let me know when you can manage it, and make it soon, please!
Lots of love,
Evie xxx
Billy read the letter twice through, laughing at the thought of the kind of mess Robert would have made with the paint, and happy that Evie and her grandmother were about to open for business after all their hard work to make the premises smart.
It wasn’t good news that Michael Carter was drinking during the day but at least it was unlikely that he’d get into the kind of trouble he had with Mr Hopkins.
At that moment there was a knock at the front door. He opened it to find Geraldine Sullivan standing there, looking lovely in a flowered summer dress and clutching a packet of custard creams.
‘Hello, Gerry,’ Billy said. ‘This is a nice surprise.’
‘All right, Billy? Your mum was at the shop earlier and left these on the counter by mistake. I only noticed after she’d gone.’
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