The Orphan Twins

by Lesley Eames

  ‘Davie might have been too upset to write back,’ Lily suggested, though she thought it more likely that Davie either feared his own letter-writing skills were poor or felt that the friendship had fallen into the gap between their different lives.

  It was another reminder of the difference between Lily’s world and Artie’s but, beyond the pang of concern she felt, Lily refused to dwell on it while he was with her. Every moment in Artie’s company was to be treasured.

  She’d never asked Artie for anything before but she’d asked him to bring a newspaper today and she read it hungrily after he’d gone, sharing it with Elsie and Phyllis. They read that there was to be a Board of Trade enquiry into the sinking of the Titanic, that England would be sending a team to compete in the Olympic Games in Stockholm, that there’d been a fire in a mill in Yorkshire and that a woman had flown an aeroplane across the English Channel.

  It was the first newspaper they’d seen in ages as Lily’s request to look at Mr Henderson’s daily newspaper after he’d finished with it had met with a refusal. ‘Your energies will be better directed if you concentrate on learning skills that will enable you to earn a living. Accepting one’s place in the world is vital to contentment,’ he’d said.

  But why did her place in the world have to be confined to domestic service? And what was wrong with knowing about the world anyway?

  Phyllis was growing increasingly frustrated too. Mr Henderson overheard her talking about the suffragettes one day and took her to task for it. ‘Those women are an abomination!’ he told her.

  ‘Stuffy old fool,’ Phyllis called him afterwards.

  She took to trying to exercise her mind in other ways. ‘Ask me a question,’ she sometimes begged, and Lily or Elsie would come back with, ‘If each person eats four ounces of carrots and carrots cost tuppence per pound, how much will it cost to feed thirty-seven people?’ or, ‘If a person’s wage is one hundred pounds per year, how much will that person earn if she works for just thirty-nine weeks?’

  Phyllis loved working sums out in her head and was almost always right. Lily reached the right answers too, but not quite as quickly. She was better at ideas and words.

  ‘I’m no good with figures or words,’ Elsie would say. ‘You two are the clever ones.’

  Lily and Phyllis insisted it wasn’t true. All-seeing Elsie was clever in a different way though she could never believe it.

  Being the eldest by several months, Elsie would leave Booth’s at Easter while Lily and Phyllis would stay until summer. Elsie was gloomy about the prospect of leaving.

  ‘Booth’s isn’t paradise but it’s probably better than what comes next. For me, anyway. You two have brains and gentle hands so you’ll be able to work your way up from the kitchen. I’ll be stuck peeling spuds forever.’

  ‘You mustn’t think like that,’ Lily urged. ‘You have a lot to offer.’

  ‘Lily’s right,’ Phyllis agreed. ‘You’re honest, hardworking, strong…’

  Elsie only shrugged.

  Lily’s own views on leaving Booth’s were mixed. It would be a step towards independence and being reunited with Artie in years to come. For all her doubts about the different directions their lives were taking Lily still hoped that one day they’d live together again or at least live close by, seeing each other often. But leaving Booth’s also meant parting from her friends and that made her sad.

  ‘We might have to be in service for a while, but we can do whatever we like when we’re older,’ Lily pointed out. ‘Once we’re sixteen we can try to find better jobs, preferably together.’

  Rose walked past at that point, turning away from them as though they were insects.

  ‘She’s probably thinking her looks will get her through life but she’s wrong,’ Elsie observed.

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Phyllis asked.

  ‘Haven’t you noticed how some people are pretty as children but grow out of it? Rose is one of them.’

  Lily looked at Rose and realised Elsie had a point. Rose’s hair wasn’t as fair these days. Neither were her features as dainty. She was still attractive, but far less likely to turn heads. It was typical of Elsie to have seen it before anyone else.

  ‘Rose is growing out of her looks but you’re growing into yours, Lily,’ Elsie said then.

  ‘Me?’ Lily laughed. ‘Maybe you’re not so wise after all.’

  ‘Elsie’s right,’ Phyllis said. ‘You’re as skinny as a railing but your face is lovely and you’re… graceful, I suppose is the word. Dark hair, blue eyes, pink cheeks… You’re like Snow White in the fairy tale.’

  ‘You’re mad,’ Lily told them. ‘Both of you.’

  ‘If you’re putting us into fairy tales, you’d better make me the giant at the top of Jack’s beanstalk,’ Elsie said.

  ‘Who can I be?’ Phyllis asked.

  ‘Dick Whittington,’ Elsie decided. ‘You can go to London and make your fortune then I can come and live in your smart house and never have to peel a spud for as long as I live.’

  Phyllis smiled. ‘What would you like to do instead of peeling spuds?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I’ll have to think of something. It isn’t as though I’m ever going to get married.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Look at me. I’m bigger than most men already and besides, I’m not… What’s the word, Lily? It means quiet and obedient.’

  ‘Docile?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘You might find a man who doesn’t want a docile wife,’ Lily suggested, but Elsie only pulled a face.

  ‘I don’t suppose I’ll get married either,’ Phyllis said. ‘There can’t be many men who’ll put up with a wife who’s prepared to chain herself to railings to campaign for women’s votes. What about you, Lily?’

  ‘Who knows? I want to make something of myself when I’m older and I’d hate to be stuck with a man who tried to stop me.’

  Lily still had no clear idea of what she wanted to do with her life but she hoped to find something that would give her a sense of satisfaction. She wanted it to come from her own efforts too. Gran might have expected Artie to support his sister once he became a man but Lily knew she’d prefer independence to being a drain on her brother’s purse.

  Artie went to Camfordleigh in the autumn. Lily couldn’t help worrying about him and longed for a letter.

  Two weeks passed before he finally wrote to her.

  Dearest Lily,

  Sorry I haven’t written before but I’ve been hoping to have something good to tell you. Unfortunately, this isn’t an easy place for a boy like me. Most of the boys have been to what they call prep schools which I understand are boarding schools for younger boys so they’re used to sleeping in dormitories and sharing lessons with so many other boys. I’m not, and it feels strange to have nowhere to go if I want to be by myself for a while.

  We’ve been put into houses which are named after old boys who were at the school years ago. I’m in Irving House. Each house competes against the others to be best in all sorts of things. The boys take it very seriously and some of them boast about how many points they won for the houses at their prep schools. I didn’t go to a prep school so I have nothing to say about points and houses.

  The boys seem to speak a different language too. They use words like quad for the big yard between the buildings and tuck for the sweets and chocolate they bring from home or buy from the little shop here. They also call their mums and dads the mater and the pater, and talk about their people instead of their families. Everyone here is known by their surname so I’m Tomkins. It feels odd to me but no one else seems to mind.

  Have I made any friends? Not yet. I think the other boys know I’m different from them and I haven’t found a way to fit in. Not that they’re all awful. I like some of them, especially one called Fordyce, but others aren’t nice at all. There’s a small boy called Simons who started out crying a lot because he was homesick. Some of the boys began mocking him and calling him Snivelling Simons. Bef
ore you ask, yes, I did try to be kind to Simons but he’s found another friend now. They both like Latin and chess, and I’ve no interest in either.

  I won’t pretend I haven’t felt like crying myself, especially when some of the nastier boys thought it was a great joke to fill my shoes with water, but I’ve managed to hold back so no one calls me Tearful Tomkins.

  Write back to me soon, Lil. I miss you so much!

  Your loving Artie x

  Poor Artie! Lily’s heart ached for him. She wrote back straight away to try to boost his spirits and a week later she received a reply.

  Dearest, Lil,

  It was such a relief when your letter came. I’d been feeling terribly lonely but it made me feel better to know you were thinking of me and wishing me well.

  Things have started to change for me. It began when new boys like me had to run what’s called a cross country race over fields and through woods. I suppose all the hours I’ve spent on the bicycle paid off because I won the race easily. Winning got me noticed, and boys – even the Head of House – started saying things like, Tomkins could be useful.

  Then the Head of House took me onto the field to see what I could do with a cricket ball even though the cricket season has finished and he called me a Good chap. I’m also learning a sport called rugby that involves a lot of running, and I seem to be pretty good at that too.

  So all in all I’m finding my feet here. I don’t think I’m ever going to be one of the cleverer chaps but I don’t appear to be completely dim. It’s a big relief, I can tell you, sis.

  It was a big relief to Lily too.

  After his awkward beginning Artie seemed to settle down well, judging from his letters. He made friends, including Fordyce, who was another talented rugby player, Clements, who was another runner, and Britton, who was hopeless at sports but a decent chap who shared their dorm. Lily supposed that dorm meant dormitory.

  She had little hope of seeing him at Christmas as Mr Alderton would doubtless consider the daylight hours too short for safe bicycling to and from Hampstead. Artie spent Christmas with Mr Alderton as usual then went to Fordyce’s house for a week.

  It’s an amazing house in the Hertfordshire countryside with seven bedrooms and lots of other rooms too. His parents are a bit vague but nice. They left us to do what we liked most of the time. His grandfather has built a model railway in the attic and it’s wonderful. We spent a lot of time up there and also cycled to St Albans which has both a cathedral and old Roman walls.

  Lily was delighted that Artie had enjoyed his holiday though the contrast between his world and hers seemed to be growing ever stronger.

  It wasn’t until his school term ended just before Easter that she saw him again. Lily was used to seeing changes in him but she’d never seen him looking so tall and self-assured. He’d brought another newspaper, a book and two tins of sweets. ‘He’s going to be a charmer, your brother,’ Elsie said.

  Lily agreed. Artie had the loveliest smile.

  He was friendly and open too, asking questions about life at Booth’s and answering questions about Camfordleigh. But as Lily waved him off at the end of his visit she reflected on the one question she hadn’t asked. Had he told his friends that he had a sister in a children’s home? A sister who’d soon become a servant? She’d been too afraid of how he might answer.

  *

  Time at Booth’s had often dragged but it had picked up pace over their last year and the arrival of Easter meant it was time for Elsie to leave. ‘I’m not going to cry,’ she insisted, only to burst into floods of tears as she hugged Lily and Phyllis goodbye.

  She’d been placed in a household in Chislehurst, just far enough away to make it difficult for her to return to Booth’s on a visit. ‘But I’ll write,’ she promised.

  She wrote a couple of weeks later.

  I’m one of three servants here. There’s a cook, a maid and me. As expected, I haven’t been let loose near the china. I lay the fires and sweep the grates. I haul coal in from the shed and put it into shuttles. I scrub floors. Also as expected, I peel a lot of spuds. Carrots too. Apples, pears, onions… You name it, I peel it.

  I also do reaching. That means lifting things down from high shelves and cupboards and putting things up. ‘Reach this for me, Elsie,’ and, ‘Reach that for me, Elsie,’ rings out morning, noon and night. I even hear it in my dreams. Still, beggars can’t be choosers.

  Write and let me know your news and here’s hoping you’ll be given places close to mine so we can see each other during our time off. Not long now. Time flies when you’re having fun. And even when you’re not.

  With love from your friend, Elsie, who misses you x

  Lily was missing Elsie too and so was Phyllis. We can’t wait to see you again, they both wrote.

  Summer came and it was time for Lily and Phyllis to go out into service. ‘Nervous?’ Artie asked, home from school and managing to squeeze in a visit.

  ‘A little. But I’ll work hard so I hope I’ll do well.’

  ‘I hate the fact that you have to work when I don’t.’ He shook his head regretfully.

  ‘Don’t think I’ve forgotten what Gran said about helping you when I’m older. It’s what I want too.’

  ‘I’m not made for idleness, Artie.’

  ‘I know. But even so… You’ll write and let me know how you get on?’

  ‘Of course I will. But please don’t worry about me.’

  Phyllis was going to the household of a Mr and Mrs Purvis in Sevenoaks, Lily to a Mr and Mrs Everett of number six Beeches Mansions, five miles away from Phyllis in Drayford.

  Despite the narrowness of life at Booth’s, Lily was deeply grateful for the care she’d received and made sure the Hendersons and her teacher knew it. Now she was stepping back out into the world but she was still far from free. And who knew what she’d have to face as the very lowest of domestic servants?

  THIRTEEN

  Beeches Mansions weren’t mansions at all but tall houses of four storeys, starting with basements and rising to attics. The housekeeper, Mrs Tibbs, was a small, harassed woman who looked Lily up and down and said, ‘Hmm. I hope you’re stronger than you look.’

  Clearly, she’d have preferred a big girl like Elsie. Lily decided to mention that in her next letter to her friend. For now Lily could only draw herself up tall. ‘I’m strong,’ she said.

  ‘Rules,’ Mrs Tibbs announced then. ‘We’re up at six to lay the fires and boil the water. I cook but you’ll need to help. A woman comes in to do heavy cleaning and laundry sometimes but not often. Mostly it’s down to me so you’ll need to help with that too.’

  Lily said nothing, not having been invited to comment.

  ‘The Master has his breakfast in the dining room at seven-thirty before he leaves for his office in London so there’s no time for dawdling. The mistress has a breakfast tray in her room. Sometimes she has her luncheon in her room too. Fancies herself delicate, does the mistress.’

  Lily sensed that Mrs Tibbs was no great admirer of the Everetts.

  ‘Dinner is served in the dining room at eight sharp. Guests are rare but I get extra help in if the family’s entertaining. If the mistress agrees, that is. Mostly, it’s you and me does all the work, including attending the mistress and her fancies. This isn’t a job for a slacker. Any questions? If not, I’ll get you kitted out and—’

  ‘Time off?’ Lily said.

  ‘You haven’t even hung your coat up and you’re talking about time away?’ Clearly, Mrs Tibbs was unimpressed.

  ‘I’ll work hard,’ Lily promised. ‘But I’d like to know when I’ll have time off so I can see my friends.’

  ‘No gentleman friends allowed,’ Mrs Tibbs told her.

  ‘My friends are girls, but I have a brother too.’

  ‘No visitors allowed either. I’ll do my best about the time off but this house doesn’t have a dozen servants to cover for each other and the mistress isn’t keen on keeping to a schedule for half days and holiday. It doesn’
t suit her fancies. I hope you’re not the whining sort, like the last girl.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m a whiner.’

  ‘Come along then. I’ll show you where you’ll sleep.’

  Mrs Tibbs led the way upstairs. ‘Back stairs for us. Move quietly, speak only when spoken to and never get in the way of your betters,’ she instructed.

  She was breathing heavily when they reached the attics. ‘This is yours.’ She opened the door to a small room with a sloping ceiling that contained an iron-framed bed, a small cupboard, a bedside table and a plain wooden chair. ‘I’m next door. Chamber pots are under the beds and it’s your job to take out the slops each morning. There’s a bathroom for the family but it isn’t for us to use.’

  She picked up two black dresses that were lying across the bed. ‘I can see one of these is going to be too short. The other will be too wide but there’s nothing to be done about that and it won’t show so badly with an apron over the top. There’s a spare dress this size in the cupboard along with two spare aprons and caps. Take care of them and keep them clean as you won’t be getting more. Hurry along and change, then come back downstairs.’

  The dress swamped Lily but the white apron did indeed help to disguise the poor fit. She brushed her hair, pinned it at the nape of her neck then fastened the cap on top.

  The housekeeper nodded approval when Lily returned to the kitchen. ‘You look clean and neat enough. That’s something. Now then, I—’

  She broke off, sighing as a bell rang. ‘The mistress,’ she announced. ‘I’ll see what she wants. You start peeling those potatoes.’

  Spud-peeling. Lily would write to Elsie about that too.

  *

  Mrs Tibbs often sighed in the days that followed, usually because of what she called Madame’s fancies. Lily didn’t get to meet Mrs Everett for several days and even then only met her by chance. Mrs Everett had been resting all morning but a telephone call had revived her enough to demand luncheon in the dining room before going out. ‘The mistress has left the dining room in a mess,’ Mrs Tibbs complained afterwards. ‘It was bad enough her dropping the fish without grinding it into the carpet with her shoe. Give me a hand clearing it up, will you?’