When Day is Done Read online

  Jane reported the change of mood to Mrs Phillips when she took out the remains of the tea, adding that Rose had thanked her and said the food was lovely. ‘She’s a dear little girl, isn’t she?’ she said. Maud had been sent on an errand, and the two women poured tea for themselves and settled down to have a good gossip.

  ‘She’s very free with her praise, and that’ll suit madam. She’d better keep on with it if she knows what side her bread’s buttered,’ said Mrs Phillips.

  ‘Oh, Mrs Phillips, I’m sure she means it. She’s not trying to butter people up. I don’t suppose she’s ever had food like this before,’ Jane protested.

  ‘I’m sure you’re right, Jane. She is a nice little girl – now,’ replied the cook. ‘But she’ll change, you’ll see. She’ll be spoiled and given everything she wants, but at the same time she’ll have to watch her p’s and q’s. Make sure she doesn’t do anything madam doesn’t like. It’s the other little one I’m sorry for. She’ll have to earn her keep with that Mildred Williams.’

  ‘Your niece worked for her – for Mrs Williams, didn’t she?’ asked Jane.

  ‘Yes, our Cissie’s girl, and she said she never worked so hard in her life as when she worked there. They never stopped from first thing in the morning to last thing at night, yet the missus was never satisfied. The food was good but the pay was a disgrace. Our Cissie soon had her out of there and into another place, I can tell you.’

  ‘I think little Rose will earn her keep here in another way,’ declared Jane. ‘She’s asked me to be her friend, and I will.’

  ‘Watch your step, girl,’ advised the cook. ‘Make sure madam or Essy don’t hear that. You’ll never get a place like this again if you lose this one.’

  ‘I know,’ agreed Jane. ‘I just feel sorry for the child. She seems to be fretting more for her sister than for her mam, mind you.’

  ‘No wonder. The mother was a useless creature. Sweet-natured, like, but spoiled by the family because she was the youngest, then by her husband,’ said the cook. ‘Always had everything her own way. She took to the bottle, I heard, when her husband was killed in the Boer War, instead of thinking of her children.’

  ‘You worked for the family, didn’t you?’ Jane said. ‘So you know all about them.’

  ‘Yes, I was only a kitchenmaid then, in the big house in St Anne Street, but we all knew what went on. The father, old Mr Parry, was as hard as nails, and mean! He ruled the three girls and their mother.’

  ‘And yet madam has got that big picture of him up in the drawing room,’ Jane exclaimed.

  ‘Yes, well, people believe what they want to believe about their relations, especially after they’re dead,’ the cook said cynically. ‘The mother was a nice lady, but no spirit. I think he made her feel guilty because she didn’t have no son.’

  ‘Was madam pretty as a girl?’ asked Jane.

  ‘Oh yes, she was, and a lot of young men wanted to court her, but old Parry seen to it that she married Arthur Anderson. A lot older than her, but plenty of money.’

  ‘Seems to have worked out all right for her,’ said Jane. ‘I wouldn’t mind marrying an old man if he died after a few years and left me as well off as she is. Mind you, I’d probably marry one who lived to be a hundred!’

  ‘Oh, Jane, you’re a case,’ the cook exclaimed. ‘Mind you, the old feller was so busy watching Beattie that young Sophie was able to see a soldier on the sly.’

  ‘Sophie was Rose’s mother?’ said Jane.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mrs Phillips. ‘Old Parry died just after madam was married, and about the same time the soldier finished in the army and him and Sophie got married very quiet, like. The old fellow would never have allowed it, but their mother was too ill to care. She died a year after old Parry.’

  ‘What was the soldier like – Rose’s father?’ asked Jane.

  ‘A nice lad, and it was a real love match. Johnny Drew, his name was, and he was a silversmith by trade. They were happy but they were a soft pair. Little Rose has got her looks.’

  ‘She must’ve been a beauty then,’ declared Jane. ‘Rose is lovely.’

  ‘And with more of her wits about her than her parents, I’d say,’ said the cook. ‘When Mrs Parry died the money was divided between the three girls. Sophie kept hers and his gratuity went into a shop, but they were robbed blind. He believed every hard-luck story and she was as bad. Then he was a Reservist, you see, and he got called back into the army for the Boer War.’

  ‘And killed,’ said Jane with a sigh. ‘What happened with Mrs Williams?’

  Mrs Phillips snorted. ‘Mildred?’ she said. ‘She’d never been courted – she was more like a man than a woman – but when she got her father’s money this ne’er-do-well came hanging round and she grabbed him and married him.’

  There was a noise outside and the two women jumped to their feet in alarm. At the same moment the drawing-room bell jangled above their heads.

  Jane hastily smoothed her hair and settled her cap, but before she hurried off she said quickly to the cook, ‘Oo, I did enjoy our talk. We never get a chance while Essy’s about.’

  ‘Yes, she’s got ears like a bat, and everything she hears goes straight back to madam,’ said Mrs Phillips. ‘Hurry now, Jane.’

  When Jane arrived in the drawing room, she found that Essy had returned and was sitting near to Beattie. ‘A fresh pot of tea, Jane, and bring a cup for Miss Mills,’ Beattie ordered.

  Essy looked gratified. As soon as Jane left, she began to whisper to Beattie and show her some lists.

  Rose was sitting on the other side of the room, pretending to play with her doll, but her sharp ears caught most of the conversation. She heard Essy whispering that she had brought the sewing table that had belonged to Beattie’s mother, and the other things on the list. ‘Mrs Williams didn’t seem pleased about the trinket set, but she had a donkey cart with her and she took several items of furniture and all the bedding and crockery. I hope that was all right, madam. I made a list of everything that went on the cart.’

  ‘I said she could take the crockery and bedlinen. It wasn’t up to my standard,’ Beattie said.

  ‘Of course not, madam,’ agreed Essy. ‘And neither were the other things she took. I threw a lot of rubbish out, but I made sure only quality stuff came here.’

  ‘You did well, Essy,’ Beattie said approvingly.

  Essy preened herself and said something which Rose was unable to hear, but she did hear her say, ‘There were two books with labels in the front saying they were school prizes for Miss Rose. I brought those, madam. I hope I did right. They were spotlessly clean.’

  Beattie murmured something about a clean break, but Essy replied, ‘I thought you could decide, madam, if I brought them. I thought they’d be proof she was a good pupil.’

  Nothing more was said about the books, but when Essy was putting Rose to bed, she plucked up courage to ask about Belinda.

  ‘That dirty rag doll!’ Essy exclaimed. ‘I threw it out with the other rubbish.’

  ‘Mama made her for me,’ Rose stammered, but Essy said briskly, ‘Yes, but you’ve got your beautiful new doll from madam now. You’re a very lucky little girl.’ Rose was to hear this phrase very frequently during the next few months and years.

  The following day, Sunday, she accompanied her aunt to church, being driven in the carriage by Mr Phillips. True to her promise, she simulated joyful surprise when her aunt led her out to the carriage, and Beattie looked graciously pleased. Mr Phillips appeared relieved, and Rose reflected that although the servants seemed to like her aunt, they were also afraid of her – or perhaps of losing their jobs. They all seemed wary of Essy too.

  In the afternoon Kate arrived with Mildred. For a moment the girls looked at each shyly, then Kate flung her arms around her sister and Rose hugged her in return. Both girls wore the identical black dresses provided by Beattie, but already there was a marked difference in their appearance. While Kate’s mousy hair was scraped back into a thin plait tied with a narr
ow black ribbon, and she wore the boots provided by Mildred for both girls, Rose’s glossy fair locks had been carefully brushed into ringlets, and she wore a black velvet bow in her hair and new low shoes on her feet. A richly embroidered black pinafore covered her dress.

  As the day was mild the two girls were sent into the garden while their elders talked. Kate eagerly questioned Rose. Was she happy? Did she like living here?

  ‘They call me Miss Rose, the servants, I mean,’ said Rose, ‘and I went to church in the carriage this morning with Auntie. Mr Phillips drove us. Mrs Phillips is the cook and the food’s lovely. We’re always eating and we have porridge and bacon and eggs for breakfast.’

  ‘But are you happy, Rosie?’ Kate persisted.

  Rose put her arms around her sister. ‘I miss you, Katie,’ she said. ‘I wish you could come and live here. I don’t like being on my own.’

  ‘I miss you too, Rosie,’ Kate said, and they wept together. Kate was the first to recover, and she wiped away Rose’s tears with her handkerchief. ‘But Aunt Beattie couldn’t manage two of us here and Aunt Mildred needs me to help with the guests.’

  ‘I thought we would be able to stay at home, just you and me,’ said Rose. ‘I’d have liked that, Katie.’

  ‘So would I, but Aunt Mildred says it wouldn’t be allowed. We’d have been sent to the workhouse and we wouldn’t have liked that, would we?’

  Rose shuddered. ‘No. Essy keeps saying I’m a very lucky little girl. Auntie gave me a big doll and Essy dressed it. I’ve called it Kate.’ Before she could say any more, Jane came to tell them that they were to come in. Kate was surprised when Rose took Jane’s hand. She herself was very much in awe of the tall, superior parlourmaid, but Jane smiled at her, and Rose said, ‘Jane is my friend – aren’t you, Jane? – but we haven’t told Auntie or Essy.’

  Jane said gently to Kate, ‘I’m sorry about your mama, and you being parted from Miss Rose, but these things happen. No use looking back. You just have to try to fit in wherever you are, although I know your life will be harder than Miss Rose’s.’

  Kate only nodded in reply, but she was happy that Rose was with this kind, wise girl.

  The sisters went upstairs to take off their outdoor clothes, and Rose proudly showed Kate the guest room where she now slept and the bedroom which was being prepared for her. No work was being done as it was Sunday, but the room was almost ready. Kate was impressed by the rose-sprigged curtains, counterpane and wallpaper. ‘It’s a feather bed, Rose,’ she cried as they pressed the mattress, and Rose said nonchalantly, ‘So is the guest bed where I sleep now.’

  The floor was fitted with a pink carpet, and a white sheepskin rug lay beside the bed. ‘Aunt Beattie must be very rich!’ Kate exclaimed.

  Rose took her next to see the bathroom, where they washed their hands and Kate admired the large fluffy towels and scented soap.

  When they returned downstairs, Rose forestalled any rebuke by saying brightly, ‘I’ve just been showing Kate my room, Auntie, and she thinks it’s lovely, don’t you, Kate?’

  Kate nodded. She felt overawed by the luxury of the house, and was amazed yet pleased that Rose appeared to have adapted so easily to it. Mildred, however, looked grim. ‘Kate has a nice room of her own in my house,’ she snapped, and Kate eagerly agreed.

  Jane brought in tea, and Essy poured, fussing about Beattie, ensuring that a small table was placed in the exact position to be most convenient for her. Rose helped to carry around the plates of sandwiches and the cake stands while Beattie lay back indolently. Mrs Phillips had surpassed herself in the variety of sandwiches and cakes she had provided, and Kate was thoroughly enjoying them until Mildred hissed at her, ‘Don’t eat as though you’ve never seen food before,’ after which she felt that she must refuse them.

  After tea Rose brought out her doll and the two girls played with it, undressing and dressing it. ‘I’d rather have Belinda,’ Rose whispered to Kate when Essy had left the room. ‘But Essy threw her out.’ Tears filled her eyes, but Kate whispered, ‘Don’t cry. You’ll soon love Kate just as much.’

  It was as Mildred and Kate were preparing to leave that the blow fell. ‘I’ll see you in the playground tomorrow, Rose,’ Kate said happily, but Beattie said languidly, ‘I’m taking Rose to town tomorrow for new clothes. We’ll enjoy that, won’t we, dear?’

  ‘But – but what about school?’ Kate stammered.

  Beattie waved her hand. ‘That’s all arranged,’ she said. ‘Rose won’t be going back there. I’ve entered her for the Select School.’

  Rose was as surprised as Kate, and they gaped at each other in dismay.

  ‘But when will I see her?’ Kate cried, and Rose gripped her hand. ‘You can come to tea again with Aunt Mildred,’ Beattie said placidly, seeming unaware of the dismay she was causing the two girls. ‘You’ll like the Select School, dear,’ she said to Rose. ‘Very ladylike girls attend there and you’ll soon find lots of nice friends.’

  It was too much for Mildred. She strode towards the door. ‘Come along,’ she ordered, and as though in a dream, Kate said goodbye to Beattie and allowed herself to be hustled out by Mildred. They were on the garden path when Rose came flying out of the front door and flung her arms round Kate. ‘I didn’t know, Kate,’ she sobbed. ‘Nobody told me.’

  ‘Why should they?’ Mildred demanded. ‘You’re a child. Your place is to do as you’re told.’ At the same moment Essy rushed down the steps and scolded Rose for running out without a coat. ‘Come in at once, Miss Rose. You could catch a cold and give it to madam,’ she fussed.

  The sisters had only time for a hasty kiss before Essy pulled Rose indoors and Mildred marched Kate down the long drive, firmly gripping her arm. ‘Miss Rose indeed! A cold for madam!’ she muttered angrily. ‘And the Select School!’

  Kate said nothing. She felt bewildered, as though too much was happening too quickly for her to comprehend. She felt no pain as yet at being parted even further from her sister, but she knew that the pain was there, ready to leap upon her when this numbness passed away.

  Chapter Three

  Kate was still in a dazed state when they reached home, and Mildred, looking at her white face, told her to sit in a chair by the blazing kitchen fire. She ordered Martha to make tea and said with unexpected kindness to Kate, ‘Your sister’ll take to that life like a duck to water, and you can just settle yourself here. It’s a fresh start for both of you.’ Then she began to question Martha sharply about the tasks she had been given to do in their absence. Martha admitted that she had not made up the dining-room fire or prepared the table for the meal, and was scolded roundly by Mildred.

  Kate was oblivious to them, sitting in a stupor of misery, trying to absorb the latest blow. It was all too much, she felt. The distress of her mother’s death, then of being abruptly parted from Rose when they needed each other most, had been made bearable for Kate because she thought she would see Rose regularly and they could console each other. Now her fortitude was unequal to this latest blow.

  Mildred’s brief sympathy was soon over. ‘Don’t change your clothes,’ she ordered Kate. ‘Put an apron over your good dress and do two platefuls of bread and butter. The blue plates.’ She turned to Martha. ‘And you – bring up a bucket of coal to the dining room.’

  As Mildred went upstairs, Martha whispered to Kate, ‘What’s up? What’s happened, like?’

  ‘I won’t see Rose at school,’ Kate said. ‘Aunt Beattie’s sending her to the Select School.’ She swallowed, fighting back tears, and Martha exclaimed tactlessly, ‘Them snobs. She won’t want to know you once she gets with them lot.’

  Later, Mildred gave Kate a dish of apple sauce to take upstairs, and as she left the dining room, Henry Barnes came through the front door.

  ‘Hallo,’ he said cheerfully. ‘We meet again. Are you settling in?’ His kindness was too much for Kate, and she burst into tears. Henry drew her out of the front door to the broad top step, and there in the shelter of a pillar he put his arm aroun
d Kate and dried her eyes with his handkerchief.

  ‘There, love, there,’ he comforted her. ‘What is it? Has the old hag been unkind to you?’ Kate shook her head, unable to speak, then managed to whisper, ‘I won’t see our Rose at school. She’s going to the Select School.’

  ‘And you were counting on seeing her at school?’ Henry said with instant understanding. ‘Look, I know you’ve been through a lot lately – Mrs Molesworth’s been telling Mrs Bradley all about you – and I suppose it seems like the last straw, but never mind. You’ll be able to visit each other, won’t you?’

  ‘Only every few weeks on a Sunday, with the aunts there,’ Kate said, and her lip began to tremble.

  Henry said hastily, ‘Chin up, Kate. You’ve been a brave girl and I’m sure this may not be too bad. Perhaps you can arrange to meet your sister in the park or somewhere like that sometimes.’ He added jokingly, ‘Neither of you are in gaol.’

  He succeeded in making Kate smile, as he intended, and they went back into the house. Kate felt comforted and able to speak and behave normally when she returned to the kitchen, and Mildred looked approving.

  ‘It’s only a cold meal, and Martha can serve it,’ she said. ‘You can sit at the table upstairs tonight, Kate. Take that apron off and tidy yourself.’

  Kate was apprehensive about eating with the guests, partly from shyness and partly because she was still upset, but she found that she was sitting opposite Henry, who winked at her, and near Mrs Bradley, so she soon felt better. As soon as they were all seated, Mildred announced, ‘This is my niece, Kate, who has come to live with me,’ and there was a general murmur of welcome. Mrs Bradley leaned forward and said kindly, ‘You look very nice, my dear,’ and Kate smiled and thanked her shyly.

  The meal was cold roast pork from the midday joint and boiled ham, with beetroot and celery, followed by stewed fruit and custard and a large fruit cake. Mildred gave Kate a second slice of cake.