Poor Little Rich Girl (25 page)

‘No one can’t do nothing,’ Mollie said wildly. ‘She’s give me the sack, telled me she’d pay me for the rest of the week but I’m to go tonight. I axed wharr I done wrong and she said since you come, Miss Hester, she found she could do wi’out a housemaid. She said as you were beginning to be useful so she didn’t need me no more. She said she pays you a good salary so it would help a great deal if she could save on my wages. She did say she’d give me a reference but Cook says her references ain’t up to much, ’cos she won’t admit she’s got rid of someone for no real reason, see? Oh, miss, wharrever shall I do?’

‘Well, stop crying, wash your face and go and see to Miss Lonnie. Tell her I’m afraid there’ll be no game of Monopoly tonight and see her into bed. I’ll be up as soon as I can, but if you wouldn’t mind staying with her whilst I go and speak to Miss Hetherington-Smith,’ Hester said. How dare the old woman try to turn Mollie on to the street
just because she, Hester, was now doing a good deal of the housemaid’s work! Well, she would soon put a stop to that! She would tell Miss Hetherington-Smith that she had been employed as governess and companion to Miss Leonora, that she had helped with the housework out of a desire to be useful, but she would do so no longer if it meant Mollie’s losing her job. If she stuck to her guns Miss Hetherington-Smith would have no option but to keep Mollie on because the large, rambling old house needed all its staff to clean and maintain it.

Full of this resolve, and completely forgetting all about her desire to have some time off, Hester went straight to her employer’s study. She knocked on the door and walked in without waiting for an invitation to do so. Miss Hetherington-Smith sat behind her old-fashioned desk, apparently doing household accounts for she had a pile of bills by her left hand and a large ledger open on the blotting pad before her. She looked up enquiringly as Hester entered, though her face darkened as soon as she saw who her visitor was. ‘Yes, Miss Elliott?’ she said. ‘May I ask the reason for this rather hasty intrusion? A gentlewoman, Miss Elliott, waits to be invited to enter; you, I noticed …’

‘I’m sorry if it’s offended you, Miss Hetherington-Smith, but I’m in rather a hurry,’ Hester said. Buoyed up by anger, she scarcely considered her words or what effect they might have. ‘I’ve just come from Mollie. I went to have a word with her and found her very much distressed. She tells me you’ve given her notice.’

Miss Hetherington-Smith’s thin grey eyebrows rose in simulated surprise. ‘And what business is it of yours, Miss Elliott, if I choose to dispense with the
services of every member of my staff?’ she asked icily. ‘As it happens, I no longer need the girl and have no intention of paying wages for someone to sit idle about my house. But I repeat, Miss Elliott, what business is it of yours?’

‘It became my business the moment you decided to start giving me Mollie’s work to do,’ Hester said bluntly. ‘I was happy to help, Miss Hetherington-Smith, but not to supplant a young girl whose wage, small though it is, is helping to feed a large family. I was employed to act as governess and companion …’

Miss Hetherington-Smith clearly guessed what Hester was about to say and cut her off before she was able to do so. ‘I imagine you were about to say that you will no longer assist with household tasks,’ she said, and there was a thin suspicion of triumph in her voice as she spoke. ‘In that case, I shall of course have no option but to keep Mollie on, though I think it will be best, Miss Elliott, if you and I parted company. Since you are paid monthly and the month ends today, I will pay you what is owed and you may leave at once.’

Hester felt the blood rush to her face. She was furious with herself for not anticipating this. She began to say that it was Mr Hetherington-Smith who employed her and not his sister but her words were cut short immediately by her employer’s harsh voice. ‘You are quite wrong, Miss Elliott. Whilst my brother is out of touch, I run this house in the way I think fit and I decided some while ago that you were not a good influence, either on the staff or on my niece. To tell you the truth, your attempt to interfere with my running of the house by endeavouring to prevent me from dismissing my own staff is just the sort of
behaviour I cannot tolerate. Get your things together at once; you will leave my employment forthwith.’

‘I shall do no such thing,’ Hester said bravely, but with a shrinking heart. ‘If your brother knew …’

‘But he does not,’ Miss Hetherington-Smith pointed out. ‘Besides, Miss Elliott, have I not made it perfectly clear that you may choose? Either Mollie or yourself leaves this house tonight; it’s entirely up to you. But think how different are your circumstances! Mollie has a large family, you say, and very little money. She has no qualifications for any sort of work except that of a housemaid and there is a Depression in Liverpool as elsewhere. Furthermore, she is not yet sixteen, quite a child in fact, whereas you are twenty-four years old, well educated and intelligent. I will certainly provide a reference so you should have no difficulty in finding employment elsewhere. That will be all, Miss Elliott.’

The hotel on St John’s Lane, the Victoria, to which she had fled was quiet and respectable, but within a few hours of taking a room there Hester had realised that it was far too expensive for someone in her position. She was without a job or any immediate prospect of earning some money and she was so appalled by what had happened to her that for the moment at least all she wanted was a refuge; somewhere to lick her wounds and recover from the shock of being almost forcibly ejected from the house in Shaw Street.

During the interview with Miss Hetherington-Smith, her employer had suddenly stopped speaking in mid-sentence and swept out of the room, shutting the door behind her with a slam. She had returned moments later not attempting to apologise or explain her absence and had taken up her argument where she had left off as though there had been no interruption. It was only when there was a tap on the door and it opened to reveal Maud standing there, looking thoroughly scared, with a bulging suitcase in either hand, that Hester realised why Miss Hetherington-Smith had abandoned her for those few moments.

‘I done what you said, madam,’ Maud said timidly. ‘I packed up all Miss Elliott’s things – her clothing and that – though I couldn’t get her coat nor her leather boots into either case so they’re hung over
the banister at the end of the stairs.’ The girl turned to Hester, though shooting a scared glance towards her employer as she did so. ‘Miss, what’s happening? You ain’t leaving us, are you?’

Before Hester had a chance to reply, Miss Hetherington-Smith began to hustle Maud out of the room. ‘Miss Elliott has decided to seek a position as governess somewhere where she will not be required to help in the house. I’m sure it’s very understandable that she should wish to do so since, of course, she is fully trained and very competent. However, I feel Miss Leonora will do very much better at a school for young ladies, where she can meet other children of her own age.’ She shot a triumphant look at Hester. ‘Indeed, Miss Elliott has told me many times that the child was leading an unnatural life and should be educated amongst her peers; is this not so, Miss Elliott?’

Hester gave her a look of withering scorn but said nothing in reply and Miss Hetherington-Smith turned to Maud. ‘You may go.’

The maid, with another worried glance at Hester, scuttled along the corridor in the direction of the basement.

As soon as she had gone, Hester crossed the hall towards the stairs. Immediately, she felt her arm taken in a spiteful grip. ‘You will not go upstairs; nothing of yours remains there and I won’t have Miss Leonora frightened,’ Miss Hetherington-Smith said firmly. ‘If you persist, I shall call Fletcher to eject you, and that would not look well for either of us.’

‘Kindly remove your hand this moment,’ Hester said, feeling her cheeks flush with rage. ‘I have no intention of going upstairs, but I do intend to put on my coat and boots before leaving this house.
And I should like my salary immediately, if you please.’

Miss Hetherington-Smith looked rather wildly around the hall and Hester said bitingly: ‘Don’t worry, I’ve no intention of stealing the silver while you go to your room to fetch the money that is owed me. But I tell you to your head that I don’t intend to leave here with scarcely a penny piece to my name. If I am not paid properly I shall go straight to the nearest police station and lodge a complaint against you.’

‘Hutch! Miss Hutchinson!’ Miss Hetherington-Smith shouted. But her companion did not appear and bidding Hester to remain just where she was Miss Hetherington-Smith hurried into the study, opened a drawer in her desk and removed a small leather bag. She tipped the contents on to the pink blotting pad, counted out the required sum and, returning to Hester, pushed it into her hand. ‘I shall give the staff instructions that you are not to be admitted if you come calling,’ she said harshly. ‘And don’t think to complain to my brother, for by the time he returns to India my niece will have forgotten all about you.’

Hester had already donned her boots and, struggling into her coat, did not reply. She still felt dazed, as though this was not happening but was some weird sort of nightmare. All the fight seemed to have gone out of her and all she wanted now was to escape from the malevolence and spite emanated by Miss Hetherington-Smith. She was trembling from reaction but buttoned her coat, pulled her hat down as far as it would go and headed for the front door. When she opened it, a swirl of snow blew in and it was with some pleasure that she threw the door wide in order to pick up her cases. Head
held high, she had marched into the road, turning right along Shaw Street and making for the tram stop. The snow whirled past her face, planting cold kisses on her skin, and she had no idea whither she was bound. She only knew she wanted to put as much distance as possible between herself and Miss Hetherington-Smith, and when a tram drew up alongside her she climbed aboard and let the conductor lodge her cases under the stairs. When he said: ‘Lime Street Station, miss?’ she made no demur but paid her fare and sank wearily on to the nearest slatted bench.

Arriving at Lime Street, she had gone up St John’s Lane to the Victoria Hotel, simply because it seemed respectable, and had booked herself a room for one night. The sum required had been enough to frighten her, however, and the very next day she had moved to a much smaller and cheaper hotel on Lord Nelson Street.

Now, sitting in a chair by the window of her tiny room in the St Anthony Hotel and contemplating the snowy scene outside, Hester was wondering what she should do next. The truth was, she had no faith whatever in her ability to get work as a governess. She never doubted that any reference given by Miss Hetherington-Smith would be unlikely to help in her search for employment and though she knew that Lonnie’s father would assist her in any way he could, it would be some time before he was in a position to do so.

But tomorrow I meet Dick, Hester told herself now, rubbing her hands together, for it was bitterly cold in the bedroom, though downstairs in the lounge there would be a good fire burning. I’m sure Dick will help in any way he can – why, he might even know
of someone who’s advertising for staff – because, for the time being at least, I’ll do any job which will keep body and soul together until I can find something suitable.

Thinking of Dick cheered her considerably. At first she had felt friendless and alone, unable to return to the house in Shaw Street to explain to Lonnie why she had left so suddenly, but whenever she thought of Dick she remembered how resourceful he had been. He had sent a workmate to the door in order to get a message to her, so once she was more settled surely she could do the same. If Lonnie was really going to school then she, Hester, had only to find out at what hour she left the house each morning and she would be able to meet the child en route and discuss what had happened. It worried her most of all that Lonnie might feel herself deserted and might blame Hester for such desertion. She knew Miss Hetherington-Smith well enough by now to realise that the older woman would have no compunction in simply inventing a story which would put Hester in a bad light and herself in a good one, and though she had faith in Lonnie’s good sense and knew the child loathed her aunt, she supposed that Lonnie would be bewildered and hurt by her absence, not realising what had actually taken place.

At this point, Hester got resolutely to her feet and began to don her outdoor clothing. It’s no use sitting here feeling sorry for myself; I’ll go out right now and search for an employment bureau and see what sort of jobs are on offer, she told herself. Wouldn’t it be a grand thing if, by the time I meet Dick tomorrow, I’ve already got myself a job. Besides, I can’t afford more than two more nights in this hotel so I’ve really got to search for somewhere cheaper and I can do that once
I’ve visited the employment bureau. Another thing I can do is get a tram to Heyworth Street and explain what’s happened to me to young Ben. What’s more, I can find out whether his father was really taken to hospital. I suppose I could go round to Elmore Street, her thoughts continued, but I really don’t want to do that. They have troubles of their own and somehow I feel I must speak to Dick first. After all, the young woman he asked to go to the cinema with him was in a good job and earning a respectable salary. Who knows, when he discovers I’m almost penniless and have no job and no home of my own, he might not want to meet me after all! But Hester did not believe this for one moment and presently set out, well wrapped up, to tackle the employment bureaux in the surrounding area.

Dick and his mother sat by the hospital bed, Mrs Bailey holding her husband’s frail hand. Dick thought he had never seen his father look paler and more bloodless, yet when the older man’s eye rested on Dick he gave a broad and cheerful smile.

‘Don’t look so worried lad,’ he said in a thin, reedy voice, ‘they are going to make me better, same as they always do. Oh, I know it takes a bit longer each time, but there are some wonderful doctors in this here hospital and they say I’m a fighter and fighters usually do best. Now just you take good care of your mam and the little ’uns and I’ll do me best to get well so’s I can come home and moither the lot of you with me wild demands.’

Dick and Mrs Bailey smiled dutifully, but Dick could see how the long speech had worn his father out and presently he gave his mother a nod and told his father gently that they really ought to be
going. ‘We left Ted in charge of Ben and Phyllis,’ he explained, ‘and though Ted’s a right sensible lad he’s no sort of cook, so Mam and me thought we’d bring in fried fish and chips, ’cos we have to walk past the chippy on our way home.’ He stood up, then bent over the bed and took his father’s hand, gently squeezing the frail fingers. ‘Is there anything we can bring in for you, anything you fancy?’

The white face on the pillow tried to smile and the pale lips parted but it seemed speech was too much of an effort, for Mr Bailey merely shook his head.

‘Well, if there’s nothing special you fancy, we’ll mebbe bring you in a baked custard; I’ll buy the eggs and milk and Mam’ll do the work,’ Dick said, with a gaiety he was far from feeling. ‘I doubt I’ll be in tomorrer, Dad, ’cos it’s Ted’s turn, but I’ll see you the following day.’

Mrs Bailey bent and kissed her husband, then the two of them made their way out of the hospital. On the pavement once more, they headed for the tram stop and it was not until they were walking up Heyworth Street with newspaper packets of fish and chips that Dick said what was probably in both their minds. ‘He’s the best and bravest man I know, Mam, but I’ve never seen him as bad as this before. If only we could get him away to somewhere healthier … weren’t that what the doctor were saying?’

‘He said your dad might last a bit longer if he could get him into one of these here sannytoriums,’ Mrs Bailey said worriedly. ‘There’s one in Blackpool and another miles and miles away in Wales. But I know your dad – he won’t want them to take him where we can’t visit. What worries me, Dick, is if we persuade him to go and he gets worse …’ Mrs Bailey gulped and could not go on, her voice suspended by tears.

Dick reached out and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. ‘I know what you mean, Mam,’ he said gently. ‘You can’t bear the thought that our dad might die alone, surrounded by strangers. But – but shouldn’t we take a chance, if there’s any hope …?’

Mrs Bailey stopped dead in the middle of the pavement and turned to face her son, her tear-wet eyes meeting his steadily. ‘Dick, as you know, the doctor sent for me while you were talking to your dad,’ she said resolutely. ‘I didn’t meant to tell you and you mustn’t tell the young ones, but – but there ain’t no hope, not really. My poor old boy can’t live more than a few weeks. The doctor says his lungs are in rags. He doesn’t know how he can keep so cheerful, feeling as he must. He suggested this here sannytorium because there’ll be fresh air and scenery and that and because the food’s better and likely the nursing is too. It ain’t because a sannytorium would give our dad a better chance, because it wouldn’t. Oh, Dick, I’m that sorry to put it on you, but I can’t take a decision like that on me own. What the devil should we do, chuck?’

All the way home they discussed the problem and continued the discussion when the young ones had gone to bed, but in the event the decision was taken out of their hands. Next afternoon, Dick was called out of work by the manager and told he must make his way back to the hospital as his father was gravely ill and his mother needed him. When he arrived at the hospital, his father’s bed was surrounded by screens and Dick’s heart sank into his boots, but his mother, emerging presently, told him that the doctors thought their patient was holding his own.

‘It were the suggestion of going away to that
sannytorium what brought on a bad attack,’ she explained in a breathy whisper. ‘He says he won’t go nowhere, says he’d sooner die here than live in some godforsaken spot where he couldn’t see his wife and his kids for mebbe weeks at a time. He wants all of us to swear we won’t let them take him away, so as soon as they’ve revived him after this latest bout we’re to make him any promise he wants. Understand?’

Dick, still shaking with an icy coldness, nodded dumbly, and never gave a thought to his plans for the evening which, in any event, had crumbled into dust.

Hester arrived early at the Everton Electric Palace, in no very bright spirits. Despite the best of intentions her efforts to find herself a job before meeting Dick had proved fruitless. As she had intended, she had visited the nearest employment bureaux but none of the staff she met had been able to help her. At Miss Strong’s bureau, she had consulted the proprietress herself and Miss Strong had been blunt. ‘You are far too young for a post as governess, Miss Elliott,’ the severe-looking lady had told her. ‘Besides, due to the Depression, most families are sending their children to school rather than paying out what they consider to be large sums for private and personal education.’