Polly nodded.
‘Sandwiches then and some mince pies and Christmas cake.’
The girl lingered.
‘What is it?’ Constance asked.
‘Do you want enough for two?’
‘Yes, Polly, of course. What are you thinking of? My friend and I shall take tea together by the fire here.’
When the door closed behind the young maid, Constance drew the other armchair up nearer to the hearth and motioned Nella to take it. She gathered the fallen socks and darning wools and stuffed everything into the workbasket on the small table next to her chair before adding some coals to the fire and sitting down.
Nella had been staring at the holly and the ivy arranged along the top of the gilt-framed mirror above the fireplace, and at the red satin bows tied to the brass candlesticks. ‘Bonny,’ she murmured and then glanced round to see Constance wiping her hands on a handkerchief. ‘You should hev asked me to do that. You might hev dirtied yer bonny frock.’
‘No, you are my guest. Oh, Nella, it’s been so long!’
‘Yes, well, I would’ve come sooner - I wanted to - but yer letter said everything was fine.’
Constance looked startled. ‘Of course everything was - is - fine. Why shouldn’t it be?’
Nella looked levelly at her friend and then tugged at the drawstrings of the small pouched bag that was tied to her belt. She took out a letter. Constance glanced at the curling edges and guessed that it had been much read.
‘I was worried about you until I got this,’ Nella said.
‘Why worried?’
‘Never mind, I’ll tell you later, but I was planning to ask Mrs Mortimer to change my afternoon off so that I could come here sooner - and this arrived.’ Nella was scanning the letter as she spoke. ‘It was kind of you to write, Constance; I didn’t expect it. It was nice of you to think of me.’
Constance had written the letter one afternoon only a few days after her wedding, sitting in this very room, this very chair, because she was bored and lonely. John’s mother was sleeping after a light lunch in her room - in fact she hadn’t left her room since the day of the wedding. Polly was in the kitchen and John was at work.
Constance had nothing to do to fill her time until teatime, when, she had told Polly, she would take a tray up for her mother-in-law and, uneasy with her thoughts, she had sought comfort by writing to her old friend. She had written what Nella would be expecting to hear - that she was blissfully happy.
‘I realized that I’d been fretting about nothing when I read this,’ Nella said. ‘I mean, the wedding sounds just like a dream - and yer new friends, Rosemary Elliot and Miss Beattie, coming to the wedding breakfast...’
Constance looked at Nella keenly. Had she detected just a hint of jealousy when Nella had mentioned her new friends?
‘And how beautiful and sweet yer ma-in-law is, and how much you like her, poor lady. So-oo ...’ Nella sighed. ‘I thought I might hev been worrying needlessly.’
‘Worrying? Nella, you’ve said it again. I wish you would explain yourself.’
‘I didn’t write back - you know me writing isn’t as good as yours. Well, you always used to help me, didn’t you?’ Nella put the letter back into her purse and she looked as if she was going to take something else out when there was a knock on the door. She withdrew her hand; it was empty. ‘That’ll be the girl. Shall I open the door for her?’
‘Why?’
Nella laughed. ‘You’re turning into a proper fine lady, aren’t you? Because the lass’ll be carrying a tray and if I open the door there’ll be less chance of her spilling anything. By the way, Constance,’ she said over her shoulder, ‘thank you for saying to the lass that I was yer friend.’
Constance looked at Nella while Polly arranged the tray on the table by the window. She could see that she was itching to help the girl and she shot her a warning glance. Nella sat down and watched impatiently while Polly lifted the table, tray and all, and brought it nearer to them.
‘Thank you, Polly,’ Constance said. ‘Now if you could just bring the small kettle and place it on the hob, we’ll be able to fill up the teapot without bothering you.’
‘Yes, Mrs John.’
Nella’s eyes widened but she didn’t say anything until Polly had returned with the kettle and left the room again.
‘Yes, Mrs John!
Ee, Constance, I can’t get over the change in you. You look as though you belong here!’
‘But, I do.’
‘Of course.’ Nella’s smile faded.
‘And what about you?
Miss Nicholson
indeed! Do you know I almost didn’t know who it was. To me you’ve always just been Nella.’
‘Do you want me to pour the tea?’
‘No, take this plate,’ Constance rose swiftly, ‘and some of these sandwiches,’ she offered the serving plate, ‘and let me look after you.’
While they enjoyed their meal together, Constance told Nella about her wedding day surprise - her sewing room - and how John seemed to take endless delight in planning a wardrobe for her. When she told her that it was John who had helped her make the dress that she was wearing and that John had ambitions to be a couturier, a sort of high-class society dressmaker, she was worried that Nella would find that peculiar.
But her friend seemed to be enchanted by the whole idea and thought it was very romantic that John should want to dress Constance in beautiful clothes. ‘Ee, Constance,’ she said, ‘real sweethearts, aren’t you?’
And all the while Constance watched and was touched by Nella’s obvious delight at the unexpected feast. In the few weeks she had been John’s wife, Constance had not forgotten the near starvation diet at the Sowerbys’ house. She decided to ask Nella to come and take tea with her on every one of her afternoons off. Then she wondered why she hadn’t called before this. It was as if Nella had read her mind.
‘I hevn’t had any time off since you left to get married, you know. Once I’d got yer letter and realized that everything was all right,’ Constance frowned and was about to interrupt but Nella hurried on, ‘yes, once I realized that you were fine, I sent you that note saying I’d be along to see you when I could. Did you get it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I traded in all my time off so’s the old cow would give me Boxing Day.’
‘But that was yesterday.’
‘I know. And Miss Annabel had a party for her friends so old Mortimer decided that I couldn’t have the time off, after all. Not that I was allowed into the parlour - I might have frightened the children out of their wits - no, I just had to slave away in the kitchen. Lucky I couldn’t afford to book a ticket and I’d decided to queue for the gallery.’
‘Nella, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.’
‘The Christmas show at the Palace. You know I’ve been saving up for a ticket all year. I’ve been looking forward to it for so long, I could hardly wait. I wanted to gan on the opening night! But at the last minute old Sowerby said I couldn’t hev the time off and I’d hev to gan the next night. I was mad, I can tell you, but in a way it’s worked out well because I’ve been able to come and see you. I expect you had folk round on Boxing Day too?’
Constance smiled and shook her head, ‘No, Nella. You know how poorly John’s mother is? Well, we were very quiet. John’s uncle, Mr Barton, sent round a hamper - Nella, you’ve never seen such treats - but poor Mrs Edington was hardly well enough to enjoy them.’
‘Oh, what a shame.’
‘On Christmas Day John and I took a tray up so that we could share our meal with her. Yesterday she slept for most of the time and John and I were alone together downstairs.’
‘And the girl? Polly?’
‘My neighbour Mrs Green came to help and to sit with John’s mother for a while, so I sent Polly home yesterday afternoon, although I had the impression she would rather have stayed here. But there was so much food going to waste I thought she had better take some of it to share with her family.’
‘Ee, Constance, you are kind. That lass doesn’t know she’s born, working for a mistress like you!’
Constance felt uncomfortable. She remembered her first day here and how, almost unthinkingly, she had quite effortlessly shed all those years of servitude and adopted the role of an employer. Of course, she had been born to better things ...
‘So you’re happy, then, Constance?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Her answer had come too quickly, it had been too emphatic, but Nella didn’t seem to have noticed. She was fiddling with the drawstrings of her purse again. In the silence, Constance found herself babbling. ‘This house is so comfortable and John is so kind, oh, Nella you wouldn’t believe how gentle he is—What’s that?’
Constance’s throat constricted. Nella had taken something out of her bag and she was holding it out towards her. Constance stared at the monkey-like paw, the small fingers bent and curling upward around the object that lay in Nella’s palm and glittered in the firelight.
‘You didn’t say anything in yer letter about losing me wedding present,’ Nella said.
‘I ... what ... how...?’
‘Don’t shake yer head, Constance. It is the necklace I gave you, and divven’t worry. I realize that you wouldn’t want to hurt me and I know you didn’t lose it deliberately. I know what happened.’
‘Do you?’ Constance shrank back in her chair. ‘How? How do you know?’ All kinds of emotions churned up inside her. My God, has Gerald been boasting about what he did to me? she thought, panicked.
‘Well, I guessed.’
Nella told Constance about finding the broken chain the next morning. About worrying about the cry she had heard the night before and then about finding the heart in the turn-up of Gerald’s trousers.
‘He attacked you, didn’t he? He must hev been lying in wait for you outside the house. Constance,’ Nella put the chain and the heart on the table and leaned forward, staring at her earnestly, ‘he didn’t hurt you, did he?’
‘Hurt?’
‘Well, of course he must hev hurt you but he didn’t hev his way? You fought him off, didn’t you, Constance?’
‘I... yes, I fought him ...’ And it’s true, I did, she thought. And I must make Nella believe that I got away from him. I couldn’t bear it if she knew, if anyone knew, what happened to me. It’s too shameful, too degrading. ‘Yes, I fought him and - and I managed to run away.’
‘I thought you would but I wasn’t sure. I was gannin’ to come and see you as soon as I could but then yer letter arrived and you sounded so happy. I mean I’m yer best friend, amman’t I? If anything dreadful had happened, you would hev told me, wouldn’t you?’
‘I ... well ... yes ...’
‘So he didn’t spoil things? Well, of course he didn’t. I mean if he had, John would hev been able to tell that you weren’t - you know - pure, wouldn’t he? And, unless the man’s a saint, you wouldn’t be so happy right now!’
It was dark when Nella took her leave later that afternoon, and there was a biting wind.
‘Wait,’ Constance said, and she shut the door again. She ran upstairs and came down a moment later with the black velvet cape that Rosemary Elliot had given her to wear at her wedding. ‘Here, put this round your shoulders. If you’re going to queue for a ticket you might die of cold before you get in to see the show! Go on - you can keep it.’
‘No, Constance, I can’t take that. It’s much too good for the likes of me!’
‘Don’t ever speak like that!’ Constance exclaimed. ‘Nothing could ever be too good for you, Nella. I insist that you take it. Think of it as a Christmas present.’
Constance hoped that Nella would never guess how much her action had been prompted by guilt. Guilt because she hadn’t allowed herself to worry about the necklace since she had first missed it on the morning of her wedding. It was easy enough to excuse herself; she had been thrown out on to the street and raped the night before, and she had been in turmoil wondering whether she ought to tell John what had happened.