And with that she turned and walked away, her back straight and the feathers on her hat dancing in the wind.
Pearl stood there, shocked to her core. She and Mrs Forbes had thought they had done so well keeping the true parentage of the baby quiet, but it seemed they hadn’t reckoned on Mrs Kennedy-Scott’s astuteness. Still, at least Pearl felt confident that she would never share the knowledge with anyone else, and that was some comfort. She would have hated for Mathilda to ever find out the deception, for then the child would know that she had abandoned her and Pearl couldn’t have borne that.
After a time, she slowly turned and made her way to her cabin, and for the rest of the journey she barely ventured out except to visit the dining cabin when she was hungry.
At last land was sighted and Pearl began to pack her few belongings. She was feeling a mixture of emotions: sadness for the baby she would never see again, heartbreak for the loss of Eliza and Nick, but also a growing excitement that very soon she might be reunited with Amy. It was only then that she thought to open the envelope Mrs Forbes had pressed into her hand before she left Canada, and what she found inside made her gasp. There were fifty crisp one-pound notes; more money than Pearl had ever dreamed of having, an absolute fortune, and tears swam into her eyes as she thought of the woman’s generosity.
Had she known how much was inside it she would have refused it point-blank, but it was too late for that now, so she began to make plans. She had thought that she would immediately have to find work, but now there were endless possibilities. She could perhaps even afford to open her own little business, although what she might do, she had no idea as yet. She was sorely restricted in skills apart from those of being a servant. She took out two of the notes and tucked the rest safely down into her valise, and after carrying it on to the deck she stood and watched as the shore of her homeland grew closer.
At last it was time to disembark, and as Pearl made her way to the gangplank, she briefly glimpsed Mrs Kennedy-Scott and her maid. The woman raised her hand in farewell and after waving back, Pearl squared her shoulders and descended on to dry land.
The docks were teeming with people: sailors rolling barrels and shifting heavy cargo, well-dressed ladies and gentlemen waiting to greet passengers, as well as heavily made-up prostitutes parading up and down. Pearl flushed as she saw their rouged cheeks and the way they flaunted themselves, but she also pitied them. She knew that many of them had turned to their profession because there was no other option open to them. Most of them probably had children to feed or elderly parents to care for, and as she passed one such woman she fumbled in her bag and pressed some loose coins into her hand. The woman’s face was pockmarked and she smelled strongly of stale sweat, but as she glanced down at the gift, she smiled. ‘Thank you, me dearie. You’ve a ’eart o’ gold. God bless yer!’
Pearl hurried on, stepping across the coils of rope that littered the quay and weaving in and out amongst the throngs of people until she reached the street where she hailed a cab to take her to Euston Station.
It was only when she was settled in a carriage on the train that she began to relax a little. She had never travelled such a long distance on her own before and found it quite nerve-wracking. But very soon now she would hopefully be reunited with Amy and the rest of her life could begin. As she stared from the window, a lump formed in her throat as she thought of Nick and the baby she had left behind, but she pushed the thoughts away. They were her past now and it was time to look to the future.
As the train chuffed on its way, the view from the window began to reveal fields covered in frost with horses, sheep and cattle grazing in them. It was nothing like the vast open spaces she had seen in Canada, but all the same it was very different to the crowded streets of London where she had been brought up and she watched with interest.
It was dark and bitterly cold by the time the train drew into Trent Valley railway station in Nuneaton, and as Pearl stepped down on to the platform, she experienced a moment of panic. She was in a strange place with nowhere to stay, but then as she thought of the money tucked safely away in her bag, she relaxed a little. It was far too late to try to find Amy that evening; that was a pleasure she would save for the following day. For now she would have to find a hotel where she could rest for the night.
The kindly porter directed her to one in the marketplace, and soon she was shown to a room where she thankfully kicked her shoes off and lay on the wonderfully comfortable bed. She was very hungry by then, but the thought of going to find something to eat seemed to be too much of an effort, and before she knew it, she had slipped into an exhausted sleep.
The following morning she rose and, after having a thorough wash, she went down to the hotel dining room to enjoy a hearty breakfast. Excitement was beginning to build by then, and after asking directions to Swan Lane, she set off with a spring in her step. It was market day and Pearl strolled past pens full of farm animals that the ruddy-faced farmers had brought to sell. There were chickens squawking indignantly in their cages and cattle, pigs and sheep who gazed at her dolefully as the farmers heatedly bartered and argued their prices. Once she had passed the cattle market, she came to stalls selling everything from fish to buckets and brooms, but she was too excited to linger and hurried on.
Swan Lane proved to be a prosperous-looking road with rows of imposing three-storey houses, and after checking the address that Amy had given her, she stopped to eye the snow-white lace curtains that hung at the windows. There was a deep front garden with well-tended lawns and a red front door that gleamed in the cold, early December sunshine. A large gate stood to one side of the house, which she assumed would lead to stables and the servants’ entrance.
She paused uncertainly then. She could hardly knock on the front door when she was merely the sister of one of the maids. Making a hasty decision, she entered the gate and took the path that led round to the back of the house, hoping that she was right in her assumption that this would lead to the kitchen.
She was proved to be correct when she came to a stable block and a large cobbled yard. To the other side of the yard was a room which she thought might be the laundry room from the amount of steam that was issuing from it, and next to that was another door. She approached it and paused. Through the window to one side of it she could see a young maid scrubbing away at a sink full of dirty pots and for a moment it made her think of Eliza and a lump came to her throat. But she forced herself to stay calm and after a moment she raised her hand and tapped on the door.
Almost instantly it was opened by another maid in a starched white mop cap and a frilly, snow-white apron, who smiled at her.
‘Hello, can I ’elp you?’
Pearl returned her smile. ‘I’m hoping so. I believe my sister Amy works here, and I wondered if it might be possible for me to see her for a moment?’
The maid’s smile broadened as she took Pearl’s arm and almost dragged her into the room. ‘Why, you must be Pearl! Amy never stops going on about you but we thought you were in Canada. Oh, this will be such a lovely surprise for her won’t it, Cook?’
A plump, rosy-cheeked woman who was rolling pastry at the table paused to look up and give her a gummy grin. ‘It certainly will,’ she agreed. ‘But get our visitor a cup o’ tea, Becky. An’ you, Mildred, go an’ find Amy an’ tell ’er to get her arse down ’ere. She’s strippin’ the mistress’s bed, I believe.’
Pearl perched sedately on the chair that the cook motioned to, while another girl shot off towards a dark wooden door that Pearl guessed must lead to the main house.
‘An’ don’t get tellin’ ’er why I want her,’ the cook shouted after her retreating figure. ‘We don’t want to go spoilin’ the surprise.’
Becky poured a cup of tea from a huge brown teapot that stood close to the range and Pearl thanked her as she kept her eyes firmly fixed on the door, her heart hammering. A few minutes passed and the door opened as Becky reappeared, followed by Amy, whose mouth gaped at the sight of her sister.
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Amy was now fifteen years old and had grown so much that Pearl barely recognised her, although she still had the same cheeky grin and twinkling blue eyes. And then suddenly she let out a whoop of joy and Pearl just had time to balance her cup and saucer on the edge of the table before Amy threw herself into her arms, almost knocking her from the chair.
‘Oooh, I can’t believe it!’ Amy’s voice was thick with emotion. ‘There were times when I was sure I’d never see you again . . . but what are yer doin’ ’ere? Are yer on a visit?’
Pearl laughed as she returned the hug. ‘No, it isn’t a visit. I’ve come to live here,’ she told her with a grin. ‘Well, not here in this house, of course, but somewhere close by. I just have to find somewhere to live. I stayed in a hotel in the marketplace last night but it’s quite pricey so I don’t want to have to stay there for long.’ Then, looking apologetically towards the cook, she told her, ‘I’m sorry to come and interfere with Amy’s work but I couldn’t wait another minute to see her.’
‘No need to apologise, luvvy.’ The cook gave her a warm smile. ‘The bedrooms can wait for a while. And I’ll tell you what, bein’ as you’ve come so far, I’ll let her have this evenin’ off so you can meet up an’ have a proper catch up.’
‘Thanks, Cook,’ Amy said gratefully and, turning back to Pearl, she asked, ‘Where shall I meet you an’ what time?’
Pearl shrugged, not knowing the area at all. Then she had an idea. ‘Why don’t you come to the hotel? It’s far too cold to be walking the streets and I’m sure they won’t mind me having a visitor in my room, providing it isn’t a gentleman.’
Amy tittered, her eyes shining. ‘Eh, yer don’t ’alf talk posh now,’ she teased. ‘But that’s a good idea, shall we say about seven o’clock?’
And so, after a few more minutes during which they barely stopped talking, Pearl took her leave; she didn’t want to take advantage of the kindly cook’s good nature.
She was pacing the floor that evening as she waited in anticipation for Amy’s arrival, and spot on time there was a knock on her door.
‘I’m still ’aving to pinch meself to believe yer really ’ere,’ Amy told her, as she took her coat off and slung it across the chair. Then glancing about the room she whistled through her teeth. ‘Eeh, fancy you bein’ able to stay in a posh place like this. ’Ave yer come into some money or sommat?’
‘Let’s just say I’m comfortable,’ Pearl hedged.
Amy sighed as her face became sad. ‘I got yer letter about our Eliza drownin’,’ she said with a catch in her voice. ‘I could ’ardly believe it; she were so beautiful.’
‘Yes, she was,’ Pearl agreed. A maid appeared with a tray of hot chocolate and biscuits that Pearl had ordered, and the sad mood was broken as Amy chuckled.
‘Look at us bein’ waited on like toffs, eh? I reckon I could get used to this.’ Reaching out, she took a biscuit as Pearl handed her a steaming mug of chocolate. ‘But now tell me all about this chap of yours. It’s Nick, ain’t it? Is he ’ere an’ all?’
‘Actually . . .’ Pearl licked her lips as she avoided her sister’s eyes. ‘It didn’t work out between us in the end, so we decided to go our separate ways.’ She was determined that Amy would never know the real reason for her and Nick parting, or the truth about Eliza’s death, and definitely never anything about Mathilda.
The next hour passed in a blur as they caught up on all that had happened since their separation and all too soon it was almost time for Amy to return to the house in Swan Lane.
‘So, what sort of job are yer lookin’ for?’ she queried as she pulled her coat back on and wrapped a thick scarf about her neck.
‘Actually, I was wondering if I couldn’t open a little shop of some sort,’ Pearl admitted. ‘Perhaps something with living quarters attached.’
‘Crikey, bein’ a lady’s maid must ’ave paid good wages,’ Amy commented, impressed. Pearl didn’t reply as her sister stared thoughtfully into space for a moment, before suddenly saying, ‘Stone the crows! I reckon I might know just the place that might suit yer. An’ I ’appen to know that it’s goin’ fer a song an’ all!’
Chapter Forty-Two
‘G
o on then! Tell me about it,’ Pearl urged excitedly.
‘It just so ’appens’ that my mistress is also a great seamstress,’ Amy informed her. ‘She’s allus sewin’ or embroiderin’ somethin’ or another so she often sends me into town to fetch embroidery silks, cottons an’ stuff like that. Anyway, the old woman that owns the ’aberdashery shop, Mrs Wilkinson, ’as been poorly an’ ’as decided to sell the shop an’ go an’ live wi’ her son an’ his wife in Bournemouth. She’s a dear old soul an’ we get on well, which is why she told me she’s lookin’ to make a quick sale. It might be worth you payin’ ’er a visit. I’ll write the address down for yer, shall I?’
Pearl nodded. It sounded like something she could do. After all, how hard could it be selling sewing materials?
‘I shall go and see her first thing in the morning,’ she promised Amy as she saw her to the door. ‘And I’ll meet you on Sunday afternoon, shall I?’
‘Can’t wait!’ Amy went off with a spring in her step. Having her sister back was like having all her birthdays and Christmases come at once, and she was humming merrily as she hurried home through the frosty streets.
Bright and early the next morning, Pearl dressed up warmly and hurried back to the main street in search of the little shop that Amy had told her about. When she found it, she stood outside examining it for a moment. The window was so dirty that she could barely see through it and the paint was peeling from the door. The sign above it had faded until it was unreadable and there was a hotchpotch of things displayed in the window. Reels of cotton, embroidery silks, loose buttons – all covered in a thick layer of dust. She took a deep breath and entered the gloomy interior, setting a little bell above the shop door tinkling merrily. There was a long wooden counter that stretched almost the length of the back wall, which was untidily piled with all manner of things, and as she looked about a door behind it opened and a little old lady leaning heavily on a walking stick and with a thick shawl about her shoulders appeared. Her hair was silver-grey and pulled into a tight bun on the back of her head and her face was lined, but her eyes were friendly as she said, ‘Hello, me dear. May I help you?’
‘Actually, my sister advised me to come and see you. She visits your shop regularly to get things for her mistress. Her name is Amy.’
‘Ah, young Amy.’ The woman nodded. ‘I can see the likeness now you’ve said it. She’s such a lovely girl. But what can I do for you?’
And so, Pearl hesitantly told her about Amy saying that the shop was up for sale, and when she was done the woman narrowed her eyes and frowned. ‘But aren’t you very young to be thinking of buying a shop, dear?’
‘Not at all and I do have the money, I assure you,’ Pearl answered. ‘Well . . . that’s depending on what you’re asking for it, of course. This would suit me down to the ground, particularly as Amy tells me there are living quarters attached?’
‘There are but they’re very small,’ the woman warned. ‘There’s a bedroom and a little sitting room above, which is what’s causing me trouble, you see? Getting up and down the stairs isn’t as easy as it used to be. And then the kitchen is out the back here. Would you like to take a look?’
‘I’d love to,’ Pearl told her.
After placing the closed sign on the door, Mrs Wilkinson led her upstairs. At the top of them was a small square landing that led directly into a tiny sitting room, which again was in rather a squalid condition and as Pearl looked about the old woman squirmed with embarrassment.
‘I apologise for the condition it’s in. There was a time when the whole of this place gleamed from top to bottom and the shop was neat as a new pin, but it’s all got too much for me now, I’m afraid.’
‘Please don’t apologise,’ Pearl said with a smile. ‘It’s very cosy.’
A door in the far wall led into what proved to be a bedroom, but again it was in a very sad state of disrepair. Even so, Pearl could see how it could be improved with some tender loving care, and she could picture herself living there.
‘It’s really charming,’ she told Mrs Wilkinson after a tour of inspection. ‘And if I could afford it I would be very interested in buying it. What are you asking?’
The old woman eyed the girl pensively for some moments as she leaned heavily on her walking stick. She certainly seemed genuine enough, even though she did seem very young to be starting a business. And then she named a price that made Pearl blink with surprise. It seemed to be remarkably cheap, and as Pearl quickly did calculations in her mind, she knew it would leave her more than enough to get the place back to rights and restock the shop. She would even be able to afford to close the shop while all the redec-orating was done.
‘In with that I’ll leave you all the furniture and whatever stock there is,’ Mrs Wilkinson told her. ‘I know the furniture ain’t up to much, but I dare say it’ll do you till you can afford to change it. All I want is to walk away and get on the train with a suitcase, and the sooner the better. Have a think about it, eh?’
‘I don’t have to.’ Pearl made a hasty decision. ‘It’s a deal!’
Mrs Wilkinson beamed. ‘In that case I’ll have my solicitor draw the papers up this very day and once they’re signed, happen I can be gone by the weekend.’
‘That would be marvellous.’ Pearl shook her hand. She couldn’t believe how quickly she had found something that she hoped would be just right for her, and she felt as if the angels were smiling down on her.
‘Right, then I think we should celebrate now with a cup of tea,’ the old lady said with a grin as she sank into the faded wing chair at the side of the small fireplace where a cheery fire was burning. ‘I’ll let you go down into the kitchen at the back of the shop to make it. You may as well start to feel your way around while I rest me old legs.’
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