Riches to Rags Page 7

  She was angry with herself. It was pointless to yearn for those days. They were gone for ever. And she shouldn’t be moping for the past; she should be proud of herself. She’d had the courage to make a new life, and she had done pretty well. It had all come as a terrible shock at first, but she had adjusted and fitted in with the other servants, working hard. Mrs Douglas never had cause to complain. After finding out about her father, Jenny had felt unloved and unwanted; now she was a part of this household, accepted by them all.

  She was about to put the book down when a voice said, ‘Do you like reading?’

  She jumped violently, not realizing that anyone had come into the room. The thick carpet must have muffled his footsteps.

  One of the Stannard sons took the book from her hands and put it on the shelf. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. You were looking at that book with such longing. Why don’t you borrow it?’

  ‘I couldn’t do that, sir.’ She edged away from him.

  ‘Of course you could. No one would mind.’

  ‘No, sir.’ She reached to pick up the tray, but he blocked her path.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Jenny Baker, sir. I must get on with my work.’

  He laughed. ‘I’m sure you can spare ten minutes to talk to me.’

  Trying to remain calm, she edged past him, but he moved in front of her again.

  ‘Please, sir, I’ll lose my job if I don’t go back downstairs at once.’

  ‘Luke! Let her go.’

  He stepped aside, hands in the air and a wide grin on his face. ‘Ah, the voice of reason. I’m only talking to her, Matt.’

  ‘Don’t you realize that with over twenty guests arriving tonight, the staff are rushed trying to get everything ready in time?’

  Still smiling and in obvious good humour, Luke said to her, ‘Sorry, it was thoughtless of me.’

  She grabbed the tray and fled, giving the other brother a grateful glance as she rushed past him.

  ‘What took you so long?’ the housekeeper scolded.

  ‘Sorry, Mrs Douglas, I was detained.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘Mr Luke.’

  ‘You want to watch that boy,’ Mr Green, the butler, said. ‘Full of devilment and too fond of the young ladies.’

  ‘Did he take liberties?’ Mrs Douglas didn’t look at all pleased.

  Jenny shook her head. ‘He said he only wanted to talk …’

  The cook snorted in disbelief.

  ‘His brother came in and made him let me leave. The tallest one of the three.’

  ‘That was Matthew.’ Edna breezed in. ‘I’ve just passed the library and he’s really having a go at his brother now.’

  ‘Don’t be so familiar,’ the housekeeper scolded. ‘It’s Mr Matthew to you.’

  ‘Sorry, Mrs Douglas, I meant Mr Matthew. Just a slip of the tongue.’ Edna gave Jenny a sly wink.

  The housekeeper accepted the apology, but didn’t look as if she believed it was sincere. She glanced at the watch pinned to her dress. ‘Jenny, you are to come to me at once if you have any trouble with the young gentlemen. Now everyone back to work. All must be perfect for this evening.’

  The dinner party was under way and it was bedlam in the kitchen. Jenny was amazed that they didn’t keep colliding with one another, but each person seemed to know what they were doing – except her. This was her first experience of a large house party from below stairs. She had never realized just how hard the staff had to work to make the serving of food and drink go without a hitch.

  ‘Jenny.’ Even the housekeeper appeared flustered as she sailed into the kitchen. ‘You’ll have to take this dish of vegetables up. Hurry now.’

  She lifted the heavy silver dish and climbed the stairs as quickly as possible. Then only two steps into the dining room and it seemed as if her heart stopped beating for a moment. From the hub of chatter coming from the guests one voice stood out. Suddenly she was running from the room, still clutching the dish, without even knowing that she was doing so.

  ‘Jen!’ Edna caught her arm. ‘Stop. Where are you going?’

  ‘I can’t go in there,’ she gasped, thrusting the dish at her friend. ‘You take it. Please!’

  ‘What’s going on here?’

  ‘I don’t think Jenny’s well, Mrs Douglas.’

  The housekeeper placed her hand on Jenny’s forehead. ‘Feels like she’s running a fever. Go and ask cook for a drink of water and one of her remedies. She’ll have you right in no time. Edna, you take the vegetables in. Quickly now.’

  Jenny struggled down to the kitchen on legs so weak they would hardly hold her. Once there, she sat on a stool in the corner out of everyone’s way, and bowed over as if in pain. Dear God, that was her worst nightmare come true. She’d been feeling safe, but she wasn’t. Discovery could come at any time. Gloria Tremain was upstairs. She had been the head girl at the school for two years and knew Jenny well. Even her disguise as a servant wouldn’t have fooled Gloria. Had she seen her?

  At that moment someone pushed her head down between her knees and held her there. When she sat up again, cook thrust a glass of pale green liquid into her hand.

  ‘Drink that. It’ll bring some colour back to your face.’

  Jenny was so disorientated with shock that she emptied the glass without even noticing what it tasted like.

  ‘There now, you sit quiet for a few minutes.’ The cook smiled kindly.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Peters.’

  Slowly she became aware of her surroundings and her heart slowed to a more normal rate. She was dismayed to see everyone rushing around while she did nothing. This wasn’t right; they were frantically busy. She forced herself to stand.

  Mrs Douglas was working as hard as everyone else in an effort to keep the dinner party running smoothly. With so many guests, each of them needed to pitch in and do whatever was necessary. ‘Stay where you are, Jenny, until you feel well again.’

  ‘I’m all right now. Please let me do something down here. I’m sorry, Mrs Douglas, I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘You can’t help being taken ill,’ she said. ‘But if you feel well enough, ask cook what she wants doing.’

  ‘Take the cakes out of the oven, then help Milly with the washing up.’ Cook mopped her brow. ‘I hope they’re eating all this food, Mrs Douglas.’

  ‘It’s disappearing as fast as we can serve it,’ the housekeeper said, before rushing off again.

  Cook gave a satisfied nod, and then glanced at Jenny. ‘You sure you’re all right, Jen?’

  ‘I’m fine, thank you, Mrs Peters. Your remedy worked wonders.’ Jenny arranged small cakes on a large dish. There were fruit ones, some covered in lashings of cream; others were chocolate and coffee. They looked delicious.

  ‘You’ve made a real professional job of that.’ The cook gave Jenny a sly wink. ‘I’ve got a few of those put aside for our little party tonight.’

  The presentation of food was something she had been taught at the Templeton School. Jenny’s nerves steadied. If she made herself useful here, they might not ask her to go back upstairs again.

  There was at least one person in the room who had witnessed Jenny’s flight of panic. Matthew had seen her come in and stop suddenly, the colour draining from her face. For a moment he thought that she was going to drop the large dish she was carrying. He was almost on his feet when she turned and fled. There wasn’t a sound of a crash, so she must have held on to the serving dish. For some strange reason he felt concerned for the young girl, wanting to protect her. That was why he had been unusually harsh with Luke for playing his games with her. It was that instinct that kept him in his seat. Was there something or someone here she didn’t want to see? Someone who was a threat to her?

  He glanced around the long table, studying each guest carefully. It was unlikely that an under housemaid would know any of these distinguished people – unless she’d worked for them of course. That idea was quickly dismissed. She was far too young.
This was probably her first job. Nevertheless there was something about the girl … He silently cursed his overactive imagination.

  The older housemaid had come into the room carrying the same dish. He watched her whisper something to the butler. When Green came round to refill the wine glasses and bent over near Matthew, he said quietly, ‘Is the young girl all right?’

  ‘Yes, sir. She felt unwell and is being taken care of.’

  Matt nodded, satisfied, turning his attention back to the guests. His mother expected all her sons to play their part in keeping the conversation going.

  ‘Matthew!’

  He looked across the table to Gloria Tremain, a polite smile on his face. She always called him Matthew, not Matt like everyone else.

  ‘Your father told me you are going to learn about engines.’

  ‘That’s right. Car engines.’

  ‘What a strange profession.’ Her expression said that she disapproved. ‘But I suppose that as the third son you are allowed to do much as you please.’

  ‘It has its advantages.’ Gloria always spoke as if the Stannards were a titled family. Her pretentious ideas irritated him. Not wishing to talk to her any longer, he turned to listen to something the person next to him was saying. That should get rid of her, he thought, as a chuckle of amusement rose inside him. It had been obvious for some time that Gloria was trying to attach herself to him. John was too serious; Luke too fond of chasing the girls – any girls; and that left him as her way into the Stannard family. She was wasting her time, though. He couldn’t stand her. She was a snob, and, having been educated at the Templeton School for Young Ladies, useless except as a hostess. He preferred girls who had depth to them, some conversation and knowledge of what was going on in the world. Living with someone as shallow as Gloria would be purgatory for him.

  Through the chatter he heard the Wall Street crash mentioned and the suffering it was causing some families. He strained to hear what was being said further down the table.

  ‘Terrible business,’ Lady Arlington was saying. ‘They can’t find a trace of the Winford daughter. One dreads to think what might have become of her. Only sixteen years of age, I’m told.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Gloria announced. ‘I knew her. She was at my school. Always was on the wilful side, though I cannot understand why she wanted to run away when Albert Greaves would have married her. I never thought she was lacking in good sense. The stupid girl – she could have had a life of luxury.’

  Matt bristled at her scornful tone. ‘I don’t know the man, but perhaps she didn’t want to marry him.’

  Gloria gave him a withering look that said quite plainly that he didn’t know what he was talking about. ‘He is said to be immensely wealthy.’

  Matt ignored her; he didn’t know the girl they were talking about anyway. His mind kept going back to their under housemaid. He hoped she was feeling better. He couldn’t understand why he felt so concerned about her; she was little more than a schoolgirl and he hardly knew her. Still, he’d had the impression that she was frightened about something. He gave a wry grimace. His father always said that he had a romantic nature and a too-vivid imagination. He was beginning to think his father was right.

  The master had sent down beer, wine, lemonade and even a bottle of whisky for the staff to welcome in the New Year. There was also plenty of good food – cook had seen to that – and everyone was determined to have a boisterous party to see in 1930.

  They were all laughing, but the fright earlier was still haunting Jenny. When midnight arrived, they toasted the New Year and she smiled, sipping her lemonade. Being so young they wouldn’t allow her anything stronger and she couldn’t tell them that she had been allowed a little wine at home. They treated her kindly and she hated deceiving them. There had been many times over the last few weeks when she’d wanted to confide in Edna, but she didn’t dare risk it. Gossip spread at an alarming rate from household to household.

  ‘Don’t look so serious, Jenny.’ Mrs Peters held up her glass. ‘Are you still feeling rough?’

  ‘I’m fine, thank you.’ She gazed at the smiling faces and wanted to weep. They cared about her, yet she was lying to them. It made her most uncomfortable to have to watch what she said all the time. With practice the London accent had improved, coming more naturally, though she still found the work very hard. It was only the thought of Greaves that kept her gritting her teeth and getting on with it.

  After a vigorous dance to ‘Knees Up, Mother Brown’, they cleared up and went to their beds at twelve thirty. There would still be an early start. That never changed.

  Jenny sat on the bed to kick off her shoes, then saw Edna looking at her with a strange expression on her face.

  ‘What was that all about, Jen?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You know what I’m talking about. You wasn’t ill. Something or someone in the dining room sent you into a panic.’

  When Jenny opened her mouth to deny it, Edna held up her hand to stop her. ‘It’s no good you trying to fool me. I’ve known from the start that you’re not what you seem. I only had to see the state of your hands that first week to know you wasn’t used to hard work.’

  Oh, Lord, and she thought she’d been doing quite well. She shook her head and looked pleadingly at her friend. ‘I can’t tell you, Edna. I wish I could.’

  ‘It’s all right, we all have secrets. But will you answer a couple of questions?’

  ‘If I can.’

  ‘Was there someone upstairs who would have known you?’

  Jenny nodded.

  ‘That means you’re hiding from someone.’

  She nodded again.

  ‘Are you running from the law?’

  ‘No!’ Jenny was on her feet in alarm, the lino on the floor feeling like ice on her bare feet. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong. Honest.’

  ‘I believe you. So what happens if they find you?’

  She sat down again on the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around herself and moaned, ‘They mustn’t!’

  ‘Last question. Is it family trouble?’

  ‘Yes. I wish I could tell you, but I can’t.’

  Edna sat beside her and took hold of her hand. ‘Many of us run away for some reason or other. I did myself. Five years ago my dad took off and my mum had a lot of friends, if you know what I mean.’

  Jenny gripped her hand and nodded. Edna was some years older than her and much more worldly-wise. Her sound common sense and cheerful nature often helped Jenny through a difficult day. She liked her very much. ‘What happened?’

  ‘One bloke she came home with moved in. He was a right bastard and I had to pile furniture against my bedroom door to keep him out. I wasn’t going to put up with that, so I scarpered.’ Edna smiled at her. ‘They’ll stop looking for you eventually, Jen, so stick it out.’

  ‘Oh, I hope so. I get very frightened at times.’

  ‘Don’t you worry. You let me know if they get too close and I’ll swear blind that I’ve known you, Jenny Baker, for more than three years. That ain’t your real name, I take it?’

  ‘No.’

  Her friend stood up and started getting ready for bed. ‘When you feel like you wants to talk, you can trust me. I won’t breathe a word to anyone about this. You must ’ave been desperate to throw yourself into a life you know nothing about. ’Cos from what I’ve seen of you these past weeks, I reckon you’re more used to having servants than being one. I can guess what you’re going through.’

  Jenny sighed in relief. One day she would tell her friend the whole story, and it was a comforting feeling to know she had an ally at last. ‘I’ll tell you when I feel safe again.’

  ‘I know you will.’

  8

  September 1930

  ‘Okay, you’re on your own. Let’s see you strip that engine down, then put it back together. I’ll count the parts you have left over.’

  Matt tipped his head back and laughed at his boss. ‘You don’t think I can do it, d
o you?’

  ‘You’ve learnt a lot in nine months and I know you’ve been itching to have a go, but I think it’s unlikely you can do it yet without help.’ Mr Porter tossed him a spanner. ‘Don’t shout for help because from now on I’m deaf.’

  ‘I’m going to prove you wrong.’

  ‘Can’t hear a word you’re saying.’ Jake Porter wandered away, shaking his head in mock bewilderment.

  Chuckling to himself, Matt watched him for a few moments, then tucked the spanner into one of his overall pockets, propped up the bonnet of the car and rubbed his hands in anticipation. This was going to be a real challenge, but he was confident he could do it. He didn’t regret leaving university. There was nothing like the pleasure of getting his hands covered in grease as he worked on the engines. He’d never been so happy.

  The only worry he had was watching the depression take a grip on the country. The stock market crash in America last year was having an impact on most countries now. Britain’s shipbuilding, textiles, coal and things like steel were suffering because of a slump in world trade. Unemployment in Britain was at something like two million, causing hardship for many families. All seemed well with the garage at the moment, but he was watching carefully. The economic signs indicated that things were going to get worse, and, if they did, he would see if he could help the business ride out the storm. He hadn’t mentioned any of this to his boss, of course, as he was just an apprentice. He would wait and watch.

  Pushing aside the concern, he turned his full attention to the engine. He removed each part, nut and bolt, placing them in order on the concrete floor; then it should be simple to put them back the same way. That was the theory anyway. He was determined not to have so much as a washer left over. The crucial test would come when he tried to restart the engine.

  He whistled happily to himself as he set about his task.