Her Sister's Gift

by Isabel Jackson

  Miss Higgins gasped a little. Truth be told, Isa looked amazing in the black serge uniform dress with her striking red hair and milky skin and her upright bearing. Good deportment for a young working lass, thought the seamstress.

  “You’ll do,” she said. “Where are you from?”

  “I’m from Falkirk,” she blurted out nervously, letting her broad accent escape.

  “I’m sorry, from where?” Miss Higgins asked again, smirking.

  “Scotland,” Isa tried.

  “Oh yeh, the frozen norf.” Isa could not believe it, but she thought she heard the woman snigger. “Well, you’ll soon see how we do fings down ’ere. A civilised nation, we are. Our men don’t run around in skirts like girls.”

  Isa felt her face flush with shame. Who did this woman think she was to berate her country in this way? She stood speechless, clutching the spare uniform and aprons. Along the corridor she could hear the purposeful stride of Mrs Williams and her keys coming back for her and she turned to face the door. She did not know which would be worse: to stay and face the stinging sarcasm of Miss Higgins, or to be taken off by the imperious, steely-faced Mrs Williams. She felt very lost.

  “All set? Let’s be off, then. Leave your spare things here. You can collect them after lunch, when Sally will show you to your room. Follow me.” Isa laid her clothes in a pile on a chair and followed the housekeeper out.

  They set off up the back stairs and arrived in the front hallway of the house. Isa could not believe her eyes. Her family’s home could fit in this hallway, along with their next-door neighbour’s. The floor was black and white marble, with an intricate star pattern inlaid in the centre. A beautiful chandelier hung on a long chain from the high ceiling, its faceted glass catching the sunlight and creating tiny rainbows. Stairs led up to a balustraded balcony, from which many doors led off. From either side of the entrance hallway ran two corridors. Mrs Williams led her down the one on the left and into the first room on the left. Isa could hardly contain herself. Persian rugs lay on the floor and a huge mahogany table was polished to a gleaming shine. In the centre, on a lace cloth, stood a silver bowl filled with gold and cream roses whose scent filled the room. Bay windows straight ahead looked out on to the street, but long lace curtains, thickly draped gave the house privacy from the outside world. A large dresser and sideboard stood on her left and trays, decanters and various pieces of crockery stood at the ready for serving meals.

  “This is the dining room, Isa, where all family meals are taken.” Mrs Williams spoke brusquely. “Cutlery and crockery are kept here in the dresser. You will set breakfast and luncheon normally. Today, of course, breakfast has passed. You will also dust and polish here after breakfast each day. Now I want you to show me a setting for luncheon.” And so saying she stood, hands clasped over her starched black dress, and waited for Isa to begin.

  Isa tentatively moved over to the dresser, conscious that everything she did was being closely watched for the slightest mistake. She had no doubt that Mrs Williams would have many and awful ways of making you realise you had failed in some small detail. Yet she also remembered she had been recommended for this post by her tutor. She needed to take confidence in having been selected for the job with the Tolquhouns. So she opened the drawers to find table linen, noting where cutlery was for later. She laid out a linen table mat in cream bordered with green, chose a crystal water glass and wine flute and placed them near the top right edge of the cloth, then – approximately twelve inches apart, as she had been taught – she laid the silver fish fork on the left and the fish knife on the right, then the meat fork and knife inside on their respective sides. Along the top of the setting she laid a dessert spoon, with the bowl facing to the left and a dessert fork, with the prongs facing to the right. Lastly she laid a soup spoon on the outside right of the setting. Then she ran through it all. Had she forgotten anything? Of course, a napkin. She returned to the linen drawer and located a matching napkin in cream linen trimmed in green, then hunted in the silver drawer and found a napkin ring through which she threaded the rolled napkin. This she placed to the left of the setting. A last check. She needed a side plate and butter knife for bread which, once retrieved from the dresser, she placed to the left of the setting. She stepped back, her hands held together in front of her.

  “Good. And what else would be required on the table?” the housekeeper quizzed her.

  “The cruet sets, ma’am, bread basket, water jugs.” Isa thought that was all. She paused.

  “Good. Check with cook what is on today’s menu just in case finger bowls are required for seafood. Now. When cleaning in here after breakfast you must dust each ornament or piece of crockery carefully and replace it just where you found it. So no lifting everything off at once and then muddling it all. Each object has its place and must be returned there. Understood?”

  “Yes, Mrs Williams.” Isa was so relieved. She had passed the first test of her suitability. But there was no time to enjoy the relief, for Mrs Williams was already moving on.

  “Right. Off we go.” The next room was a drawing room done in beautiful pastels and creams with a white carpet patterned in reds and blues. The walls were panelled and papered with tropical birds flying on a cream background, their jewel colours echoing those in the carpet. China cabinets displayed exquisite pieces of porcelain and silver. A chaise longue, upholstered in red velvet, was flanked by gilded-backed chairs with satin cushions in pale pink, damson and peach. It was a peaceful, bright, tastefully decorated room and Isa’s senses were thrilled by it. She could not believe such opulence existed. What would her sisters, friends and neighbours think of this?

  “You will also dust and polish the drawing room. Same rules apply in here. The items in the cabinets will not be dusted every day. They are taken out and washed once a month but I shall supervise that. Small rugs are rolled and taken to the back garden to be beaten over the washing line on a Friday only. On other days they are swept with a dustpan and brush. Surrounds of course are polished twice a week. Any questions?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  “Right then. Back to the kitchen. I’ll pair you up with Sally today. She’ll sort you out with cleaning materials.” The swishing skirts led the way and Isa dutifully followed. Her mind was full of all the beautiful things she had seen in these two rooms and the hallway. It was like the films. Better. It was in colour. She had no idea people really lived like this. Possibly every house on this square was similar. It was so much to take in.

  Back in the kitchen she was introduced to Sally, the girl she had seen in the scullery. She seemed friendly and soon equipped Isa with a basket of cloths and polishes plus a feather duster and then it was off to start her first task of cleaning the dining room. The morning passed quickly and after a lunch of soup, bread and cheese around the kitchen table she was shown her room in the attic.

  The back staircase they had used to get from the kitchen to the hall had further sections leading eventually to the attic bedrooms for the staff. Isa could not believe she was to have a room to herself as she had fully expected to share one, even a bed, which was an idea she had not relished. She was used to sharing a bed with her sisters, but it was another matter to share with a stranger. When Sally opened the door on the plainly furnished room, with a tiny window in the sloping roof, she felt a thrill in anticipation of independence and her first taste of privacy. She thanked Sally and shut the door, scanning everything: the bed with its feather quilt and pillow, the small wardrobe for her clothes, the little chest of drawers and the rag rug at the bedside. She sat on the bed and sighed in pleasure. She did not have long, since she would have to set the table for “luncheon”, as they called it, but she took a moment to savour her joy. She should be all right here. She knew she could do the work and she had this lovely room. If only she was not so far from Chrissie and Margaret. But she would write and she would try to visit on her holiday. Both Miss Crail and Miss Munro at the college had told her they would watch out for them and she was n
ot to worry. She stood up, smoothed down her apron and set off for the dining room.

  7

  Although Isa could speak the King’s English and rarely used her Scots vocabulary in her new environment, she was faced with mimicry of her accent, which was soft and had a lilt to it quite different from the London cockney. When she was at the market fetching orders for the household the stallholders understood her and respected her. It was the other servants who constantly imitated her with an exaggerated intonation, or who made her repeat things, insisting they hadn’t quite got that, regardless of how carefully she pronounced her words. Then it was worse, of course, because they made out she sounded like a toff and thought she was better than them. Isa had a strong character underneath this shyness of being new, but their teasing hurt her pride. She was already feeling very alone, so far from what was familiar to her. Sometimes, as she came into the kitchen or the scullery, she would hear two or three servants giggling and laughing and when they saw her they went quiet. She began to think they were laughing at her behind her back and rather than intimidate her it was beginning to rile her.

  One morning, Isa was in the broom cupboard fetching the polishes and cloths she needed for the morning cleaning. She was bending over to reach a bucket to wash the floors when behind her she heard the door shut.

  “Caught you alone at last, Isa,” said a voice behind her. “’Aven’t had much chance to chat since you got out of me cab. ’Ow are ye settlin’, like?”

  She stood up and turned to face him, holding the bucket in front of her. “Oh, fine thank you, Mr Jamieson. Getting used to the house and the work just fine.”

  “Oh now. Why so formal, Isa? You can call me ’Arry. We’ve been introduced.” Harry took a step nearer and looked her straight in the eyes. “You’ve got lovely hair, Isa. I’d love to see it down.”

  Isa brought the bucket she held up to her waist, instinctively protecting herself and keeping some space between her and Harry. She had no idea how this was going to go. Completely naïve about men, having no brothers and spending most of her time with her sisters and then at the girls’ college, she did not have a flirtatious bone in her body and had no idea how to play the game Harry had embarked upon. She felt frightened.

  Harry moved towards her and took her elbows. “Pity it’s so cramped in ’ere. We could have us a bit of a dance. Bet ye’d look good in a nice dancing frock wi’ yer hair all up and no cap on it.” He moved as if to touch her hair when there was a gasp as Isa pushed the metal bucket against his diaphragm and winded him. As he bent over, clutching himself, she pushed past and wrenched the door open. She ran along the corridor straight into Mrs Roberts coming out of her pantry.

  “Goodness, Isa. What on earth are you doing? Ye can’t go running along these corridors like that.” Then she looked into the girl’s face. “What’s happened, lass? What’s upset you so?”

  Before Isa had a chance to say anything, Mrs Roberts looked over her shoulder and saw Harry come out of the broom cupboard, bent over and shocked as he looked after Isa. Mrs Roberts did not need any explanation now. It was all quite clear: Harry had been flirting with Isa and the poor girl had had no idea how to deal with him. She’d known the lass would have a hard time with the staff: teasing, mimicry . . . and now pestered by Harry Jamieson. She put her arm on Isa’s shoulder and led her into her pantry and shut the door.

  “Sit down, lass,” she said. “You don’t need tae tell me whit happened. I saw Harry Jamieson come out the broom cupboard. He wis pesterin’ ye, wasn’t he?” Isa nodded. “The blighter. He’s like that wi’ aw’ the girls. He winnae hurt ye, Isa. It’s jist his way. But he shouldnae hae done that tae ye when he could see fine ye were nae used tae they goin’s-on. He’s all right really, means well, but too much of an eye for the girls. The others are all used to him and are playful back at him. Ye’ll need tae watch yer back, Isa.”

  Out in the corridor, Harold Jamieson had seen the protective arm go round Isa’s shoulder as Mrs Roberts took her into the pantry. She was different, this Scots lass, obviously not one for messing around with. Well, maybe there were other ways he could attract her attention.

  About three weeks after Isa’s arrival, Mrs Williams came down to the kitchen as they were taking their morning tea. She was holding a black cloth in her hand and her face was set the firmest Isa had yet seen it.

  “Who cleaned the drawing room this morning?” she demanded. Isa stood up and said, “I did, Mrs Williams.”

  Mrs Williams then laid the cloth on the table and opened it out to reveal a broken porcelain shepherdess figurine. There were gasps round the table as all eyes focused first on the damaged figurine and then on Isa’s blushing face. Isa could not understand this. She recognised the figurine, but it was kept in one of the cabinets by the window and she had not dusted inside since that was not her job.

  “I thought I distinctly told you Isa, that the contents of the cabinets were not to be touched.” Isa was speechless but nodded her head. Mrs Williams’ chilly tones had frightened her, making her almost feel guilty. What was going to happen now? But she knew it was nothing to do with her. Suddenly anger flooded her veins as she thought, I am not to blame so I will just have to stand up for myself, because no one else will.

  She looked straight into Mrs Williams’ eyes and slowly and firmly stated her case. “Mrs Williams, I can assure you I did not open nor have I ever opened the cabinet to touch or dust anything in it. That figurine was whole and undamaged when I left the room. I know your instructions were not to clean those pieces and therefore I have not done so. I will not be blamed for something I did not do. There must be another explanation for this damage.”

  The faces round the table registered shock and disbelief: Isa, the newest staff member, from north of the border, if you please, standing up to Mrs Williams. They could not believe it. This was unheard of. No one dared disagree or argue with the housekeeper.

  Mrs Williams herself was nonplussed. Staff did not answer her back. Who did this girl from Scotland think she was? She was about to tear a strip off her when she looked again at the girl’s face. Although she had said her piece calmly and in a controlled way there were now tears rolling down her cheeks and her lip was quivering. Mrs Williams had seen plenty of dramatics from staff over the years, but this girl was something quite different. She had courage and she was honest. She could see that in how the girl had conducted herself over the issue.

  But she herself needed to save face.

  “Come with me please, Isa,” she said, and she led the way through to her parlour on the back corridor.

  Isa pushed back her chair and left the kitchen without saying a word.

  In the kitchen the servants waited till they were both out of earshot and then the room was buzzing with their comments.

  “Well, what d’you make of ’at?” said Sally, her eyes wide in disbelief. “Isa definitely did the drawing room this morning.”

  “She admitted that ’erself. But God she was convincing in her ‘I didn’t do it’ speech,” sniggered the kitchen maid Elsie, her hair tumbling out of her cap and her apron as scruffy as always.

  Miss Higgins smirked spitefully, delighting in the thought that had come to her. “I don’t fink she’ll be ’ere this afternoon once dragonface has finished wiv ’er. The nerve of ’er. Can tell she’s a rookie. Got no idea about ’ow fings work down ’ere. Can’t go round arguin’ wiv the ’ousekeeper and get away wiv it.”

  Harry leaned back thoughtfully in his chair and slurped another mouthful of tea, his features tense. He said nothing.

  “Enough, the lot of you,” interrupted Mrs Roberts at the head of the table. “She’s worth ten of you. Don’t you see that took courage? She could only do it because she knew she was telling the truth. Mrs Williams will see that. You mark my words. Someone else is to blame. I just hope they weren’t trying to fit her up. Now, tea’s over. Get back to your work.” She started to gather the teacups from the table and took them across to the sink.


  In Mrs Williams’ room, once the door was shut, a chair was indicated for Isa to sit down. Isa took a handkerchief from her pocket and dried her eyes. Her body was tense and she was shaking all over, but in her mind she felt she had done the right thing. If she lost the job then too bad, she would have to find another, but she was not going to become a liar for anyone. She had to stay true to herself. She would have to stay calm and stick to her story. There would be no false confession from her.

  Mrs Williams sat opposite her in an upright chair, her hands on her lap, the cloth with the figurine on a small table beside her. “Isa,” she began. “I am sorry. Clearly you have spoken the truth. I do not believe it was you who broke the shepherdess.”

  Isa could hardly believe her ears. She was believed. She was not to be held responsible. Relief flooded her. “Mrs Williams, thank you.”

  “You were right to defend yourself, Isa. When we know we speak the truth we have nothing to fear. Did anyone else work with you in there this morning?”

  “No, Mrs Williams. Sally was checking what I was doing up till last week but she lets me do it all by myself now. I am so sorry about the figurine. I always thought it was so pretty.”

  “It is also very expensive. Her Ladyship will not be pleased. However, you are not to worry about that. I am very pleased with your work here and glad you had nothing to do with this business. Now, I shall allow you to get back to your duties. I need to do some further investigating. That will be all, Isa.”