‘Bedtime now, you little monkey,’ Linnet said, carrying her sleepy charge up the stairs. ‘Night night, sleep tight, please make sure the bugs don’t bite.’
‘What’s bugs?’ Mollie asked through a mouthful of thumb. Linnet sighed with exasperation at her own foolishness. Fancy using that particular little rhyme on such a delicate day for language!
‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Sleep well, Mollie, and don’t wake me too early,’ Linnet said, as she did every night. ‘Do you want Mr Woggins?’
Mr Woggins was a pink plush rabbit with one eye and huge feet. Mollie nodded, her eyes already mere slits.
‘Please, Linnet. On my tummy.’
Linnet placed the plush rabbit on Mollie’s tummy and Mollie gave a deep sigh, curled her spare hand protectively round him, and slept.
I might as well go to bed, too, Linnet told herself. No point in going downstairs, Mr Cowan won’t need my company tonight and it’s awful snug in my room with the fire on and the lamp glowing. I’ll read Roddy’s last letter and write my diary and then I’ll get into bed myself. I’m tired enough, heaven knows, what with one thing and another.
But life was not destined to be so simple. She had no sooner made up her fire and got out her diary than there was a knock on her door. Guessing that it was Edith with her hot drink, Linnet called out ‘Come in!’ and was astonished when the door opened and Mr Cowan slipped into the room.
‘Miss Murphy, I have to speak to you! I couldn’t very well send for you downstairs since my brother and his wife are there . . . please explain how Mollie came to use that – that very coarse expression.’
‘She must have heard it,’ poor Linnet said feebly. ‘Other children in the park, or even an adult, shouting out when we’re passing along the street. I’m afraid folk do occasionally use bad language, sir, even before children.’
‘But she’s never done such a thing before! Miss Murphy, where did you spend the afternoon?’
Trapped, Linnet decided she must answer honestly. ‘I went to Peel Square, sir. Where I used to live before I got my room on the Boulevard. I – I visited my old nanny, the person who took care of me when my mother was busy.’
She had never told Mr Cowan that her mother had been on the stage, nor that her own upbringing had not been, perhaps, all that it might have been. She felt mean calling Mrs Sullivan her nanny, but it was the only sort of explanation, she felt, that Mr Cowan would understand. In the echelons of society in which he moved, a woman with six or so kids of her own would scarcely take on another one, though this was precisely what Mrs Sullivan – dear, generous Mrs Sullivan – had done.
‘Peel Square; I don’t think I know it. Is it a good area of the city?’
‘It’s between Cazneau Street and Grosvenor Street,’ Linnet said evasively. ‘It’s just somewhere people live, that’s all.’
‘I see. And did you let Mollie out of your sight whilst you were there?’
‘Yes, I did. She went out to play with the other kids whilst Mrs Sullivan and I had a cuppa and got the tea ready.’
‘And did she, Miss Murphy, hear someone using foul language?’
Linnet sighed. ‘She heard a boy call a cricket bat the bleedin’ bat, if that’s what you mean. Look, sir, if you’re cross that I took Mollie with me to Peel Square, I’m sorry, but what choice did I have? I’ve not had a day off for weeks and weeks because Mrs Eddis won’t take care of the child whilst I’m gone, and . . .’
‘That, Miss Murphy, is just an excuse. And that reminds me; my sister-in-law remarked on your pretty gold bracelet – now did I, or did I not, tell you not to wear it whilst you were on duty?’
‘You told me not to do so, but if you remember, sir, the moment I stepped through the door . . .’
‘That’s enough, Miss Murphy. I cannot allow you to take Mollie into a poor area of the city where she could easily pick up more than bad language. And I won’t have my wishes flouted. If you can’t oblige me on these scores then I think, perhaps, that we’ve come to a parting of the ways.’
‘I see,’ Linnet said quietly. ‘Very well, sir. I’ll pack my things and leave after breakfast tomorrow. I trust you’ll pay me for the last three weeks?’
They were facing each other and Linnet saw the shock and uncertainty which flashed across his face, but she did not see what else she could have said. There was absolutely no way in which she could promise never to wear her bracelet again in his presence and neither could she guarantee that she would not take Mollie into a part of the city of which he disapproved. Not unless he employed a nurserymaid with whom Mollie could be left, and he had shown no inclination to do that.
‘Now wait a minute! Do you mean to tell me you intend to deliberately flout my wishes? That you are going to insist on taking Mollie with you when you visit places like Peel Square?’
Linnet jumped to her feet, her cheeks hot. He was behaving with total inconsistency – ordering her to do something which she could not possibly help!
‘Mr Cowan, I didn’t intend to
flout your wishes
as you put it by wearing my bracelet! I was in a hurry to get Mollie ready to meet her relatives and I simply forgot I had it on! Is that clear?’ She had shouted the words into his face and saw him blink and draw back without any sympathy. He had tried to take advantage of her dependency upon him and it hadn’t worked – hard luck!
‘Oh! Well, yes, I suppose . . . but Peel Square! You cannot pretend that was a suitable place to take a child, I suppose?’
‘I was brought up there, which means it can’t be all bad,’ Linnet said hotly. ‘And since you’ve refused to employ any help for me and your housekeeper resolutely insists that keeping an eye on Mollie isn’t her job, again you leave me no alternative. It is take Mollie with me or don’t go out, and if you expect me to work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and never see my own dear nanny or my friends again . . . well, I’m not a black slave-girl sir and I don’t intend to be treated like one. And now would you kindly get out of my room?’
She had told Roddy to bugger off, but Roddy was used to being shouted at and Mr Cowan was not. He looked shocked; he went quite pale.
‘Miss Murphy . . .’
‘Out! This may be your house, but whilst I’m employed by you this is my room and I won’t have you blustering and bullying me in here.’ She marched past him, head held high, cheeks aflame, and opened the door. He hesitated, then walked towards it, hesitated again . . . left the room. He turned in the hallway, obviously about to utter some dignified last words, but Linnet, feeling joyfully free and wicked, didn’t give him the chance. She slammed the door crisply and shot the bolt across. Then she sat down in her chair before the fire and let out her breath in a long, silent whistle.
Phew! Well, she had burned her boats and right now she didn’t give a damn. She would not be treated like a slave, not for all the money in the world, not for the nice food, or the rides in the motor car . . . not even for Mollie, and she did love the kid.
It was a shame about Mollie, because God knew what the child would do when she left. But that was no longer her concern. She could not let herself be bullied and shouted at and never given a day off just for the child’s sake. And anyway, Mrs Edgar – Aunt Bertha – seemed a very nice sort of person. She would probably stay for a bit and choose a good nanny for the little girl before she left.
Comforted, Linnet sat in front of the fire for a while, planning her next move. She would not get her old job at the insurance company back, that was too much to expect, nor would her landlady in the Boulevard let her have her old room again, and in any case she could not afford the rent, not until she found herself a decent job. But she would be free to walk the streets, to pop into a canny house for a cheap snack, to go to the flicks when she saw a film she wanted to see, to walk by the river, to sit on Mrs Sullivan’s doorstep and chaff with the lads . . . free, free,
free
!
She sat dreaming in front of the fire for a long time. She thought about the companionship she had so missed and the warmth of the other girls at work and in her lodgings. She thought about Mrs Sullivan’s untidy, crammed little house, the smell of ironing and cheap meat stewing over the fire, the row of patched boots by the back door. Mr Cowan had a beautiful home, a lovely way of life, a dear little daughter. But she, Linnet, knew now that the Sullivan kitchen with its smell of poverty and love was worth more to her than all the Cowan comforts.
I wouldn’t swop a week in this house for an hour wandering the streets of Liverpool, free as a bird and with nothing in my pocket but a big hole, she thought wonderingly. I can’t wait to shake the dust of Sunnyside off my feet, I honestly can’t wait!
Next morning she was woken by Mollie as usual, then her tea-tray arrived. Linnet dressed herself and the child and went downstairs with a light and springing step. The quarrel was over and she felt peaceful and glad; she would go straight round to the Sullivans’ house, dump her small suitcase (it wouldn’t have much in it since during the months she had worked for Mr Cowan she had worn her uniform) and then start job-hunting. I’m an experienced office worker, and I’m well-fed and neat, I’ll get a job, no problem, she told herself as she and Mollie walked into the breakfast room. She put Mollie into her chair, provided her with a lightly boiled egg, some bread and butter fingers and a mug of milk and helped herself to bacon and kidneys, then carried her plate to the table and sat down. Through the window she could see frost sparkling on the grass and the sun shining brightly; after days and days of rain, Linnet saw this as a good omen. Even the weather approved of her leaving this place!
But she had scarcely started her meal when the door opened and Mrs Edgar appeared. She smiled at Linnet, took a plate out of the hot trolley and began to fill it from the big silver salvers which stood on the sideboard. Then she brought her food over to the table and sat down opposite Linnet.
‘Good morning, my dear. Good morning, Mollie. Mollie, darling, have you finished your nice egg? Then if I may I’ll get you down and you can go and find your Uncle Edgar who will take you in the garden for half an hour whilst Miss Murphy and I have a chat.’
Mollie was happy enough to run off in search of her uncle, though Linnet thought rather apprehensively that the last thing she wanted was to be left alone with any member of the Cowan family right now. But there was little she could do about it so she continued to eat her breakfast, eyes on her plate, and only looked up when Mrs Edgar spoke directly to her.
‘Now, Miss Murphy, what’s this I hear? My brother-in-law is in great distress. He tells me you’ve given him notice and intend to leave today and he is upset that you should want to take such a step. Can you make things a little clearer for me?’
‘Yes, indeed. Mr Cowan did not approve of my taking Mollie to Peel Square, in the city, where she played with other kids whilst I visited the woman who brought me up. He wanted my word that I would never do such a thing again. I told him that since he did not employ anyone but myself to look after Mollie, it was take her with me or remain a virtual prisoner in this house and that I could not agree to. So he suggested we should part company and I agreed. Far from handing in my notice, Mrs Edgar, I believe I was dismissed.’
‘And you don’t really want to leave? My dear, I’m so pleased, because you’ve done wonders not only with Mollie but with my brother-in-law, as well. He seems much more relaxed and in control and is certainly far happier with his daughter. So if I tell him it was just a misunderstanding . . . ?’
‘It wasn’t. I understood him perfectly and I believe he understood me. Furthermore, Mrs Edgar, last night I realised what a dreadfully boring life I was leading here. Oh, I don’t deny my salary is good, my meals delicious, my work not over-demanding, but I’m never free for one moment to please myself. I never have an afternoon off, not an hour off, even. And that means I’m losing all my old friends and not making new ones. No, upon reflection I believe Mr Cowan was right. We should part company and go our separate ways. Mr Cowan will soon find a replacement for me, I’m sure.’
‘But he’s so pleased with the way you and Mollie get on, so delighted to find in you a bright, intelligent companion with whom he can discuss his problems. I assure you, Miss Murphy, that he will be deeply hurt and distressed if you insist on leaving.’
‘It isn’t up to me,’ Linnet said, her voice rising a little. ‘I was dismissed, Mrs Edgar, and so I’m going to leave. That’s all there is to it. And anyway, kind though it is of you to intercede, I do think this is between Mr Cowan and myself.’
Mrs Edgar looked nearly as surprised as her brother-in-law had done when Linnet had shouted at him the previous evening. ‘Well, you do speak your mind, Miss Murphy,’ she said. ‘I’ll send Mr Cowan to you; he’ll tell you you’re mistaken.’
Linnet said nothing and Mrs Edgar got up and left the room. Linnet poured herself another cup of coffee and glanced once more through the window. The sun was fairly beaming in through the glass and she could see Mollie’s small figure in the distance with her tall uncle beside her. There was such promise in the sparkling morning that she felt like leaving this moment.
The breakfast room door opened softly and someone cleared his throat uneasily. Linnet did not have to glance across the room to know who it was.
‘Miss Murphy? May I . . . ?’
‘It’s your house, Mr Cowan,’ Linnet said evenly. ‘I’m just finishing my breakfast. Mollie had hers earlier and is walking in the garden with your brother.’
Mr Cowan came and stood opposite Linnet. He looked as though he had not slept well, if at all. Serve him right, Linnet thought cruelly. I might not have slept either if I’d not decided it was all for the best. Well, I’m leaving and he’s going to have to learn to manage without me – let’s see how he likes
that
!
‘Yes, m-my sister-in-law told me. Miss Murphy, I spoke in the heat of the moment last night – won’t you forgive me?’
For the life of her Linnet could not help smiling at him; he looked so stricken, so full of remorse! ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, too, probably Peel Square isn’t what you want for Mollie – well, I don’t suppose Mrs Sullivan wanted if for her boys, either, but it was all that was on offer. But I’ll be out of your home soon, and you won’t have to bother about me again.’