‘How much are they paying you?’ he asked.
‘None of your business.’
‘It is while you’re under my roof.’
‘Enough to pay my keep, don’t worry. And I’ll get food to eat, all except my breakfast, so I’ll cost you less.’
‘We should take less money from you, then,’ Nell said at once.
He rounded on her. ‘You’ll do no such thing! You still do her washing, don’t you? And clean up after her?’
Renie tried to turn his anger away from his wife. ‘They let some of the girls live in, only I told them I wanted to stay here to help my sister. But they said there would always be a bed for me there.’
He went red and his hands clenched into fists. All hung in the balance for a moment or two. ‘Well, don’t try to pay any less for your keep.’
‘I won’t. I know you keep Nell short and she needs every penny I can give her to make ends meet.’
He did walk across to her then, but she stood her ground.
‘Don’t you dare lay a finger on me or I’ll definitely leave!’
‘I wouldn’t waste my energy on you. You’re useless. No wonder you’re not walking out with anyone like the other girls.’
‘It’s not for lack of chances. I don’t want to get married.’
‘You will. That’s what all women want, a man to work his fingers to the bone providing for them and their children.’ After glaring at her and then at Nell, he went out to the pub, slamming the door behind him.
‘I wish you’d be more careful how you talk to him,’ her sister said once his footsteps had faded into the distance. ‘What if he’d hit you?’
‘I’d have hit him back. Where it hurts. And then I’d have moved out. Never mind him, look what I’ve brought you as a present for giving me such a lovely little niece.’ She brandished a Fry’s Chocolate Cream bar. ‘What’s more, we’re not saving him any.’
Nell’s eyes filled with tears and the two sisters hugged.
The first time Mr Judson pressed himself against her, Renie shoved him away hard. She’d met men like him before and you had to make it plain from the start that you’d not put up with it. ‘Stop that!’
He stood still for a moment, smiled, then walked away whistling.
When he touched her body again, she kicked him hard in the shin. If he’d been anyone else except the assistant manager, she’d have kicked him where it hurt a lot more.
He looked furious, but she was angry too.
They stood glaring at one another for a few moments, then he straightened up and said, ‘You’ll be sorry for that.’
‘And you’ll be sorry if you touch me like that again!’
The housekeeper was passing just then and stopped to stare at them.
‘And don’t you be cheeky to me again, young woman,’ he said and walked away.
Renie looked at the housekeeper. ‘I wasn’t being cheeky to him.’
‘I didn’t think you had been. You’re not the cheeky sort. Is he giving you any trouble?’
She shrugged. ‘He tries to touch some of us. I don’t like it and I won’t let him do it, not even if I lose my job for it.’
‘You won’t. I’ll make sure of that.’ The housekeeper patted her shoulder. ‘You carry on sticking up for yourself, young Irene.’ She hesitated, looking over her shoulder before asking, ‘Has he given anyone else any trouble?’
‘He grabbed Nellie’s breast the other day and hurt her. She cried about that in the back pantry.’
The housekeeper breathed deeply. ‘I’ll have a word with the manager. We employ decent girls here and I’m not having them treated like … like the other sort.’
Things got better then and Mr Judson stopped touching the women staff, but the looks he gave Renie said he blamed her and he’d not forget what she’d done. Luckily, he wasn’t in charge of the dining room staff, but worked in the office – she didn’t know what he did there. Some of the time, he stood in Reception and fussed over customers when they arrived.
Smarmy devil, he was to them.
There was always a worm in the apple, wasn’t there? Nothing ever went smoothly. Renie was learning that. She was learning a lot about life since they’d fled from Swindon.
Renie loved being a waitress, helping people, seeing the pleasure on their faces as they ate the delicious food Chef produced. She’d never had a job as interesting as this before, hadn’t realised food could be so wonderful.
Six weeks after she’d started, the manager summoned her with a flick of the finger. ‘A word, Irene.’
She cast a quick glance over the restaurant, but it was quiet now after the lunchtime rush and she’d cleared up all her tables. She followed Mr Sewell into his office to one side of the foyer, frowning as she tried to work out what she’d done wrong. Nothing that she could think of.
He sat down behind his desk and stared at her over his steepled fingers. ‘We’ve been very pleased with how you’ve settled in, Irene, and how quickly you’ve learnt the job. I’ve not seen anyone pick it up as quickly as you. And the customers like you, too. That’s important.’
‘Oh. Well, thank you. I do enjoy my work.’ She could feel herself flushing with pleasure at the compliment. Mr Sewell wasn’t noted for handing them out too often, so it really meant something.
‘I overheard you the other day talking about how you’d like to see more of the world.’
She looked at him warily. What had that to do with working here?
‘The company has an opening in London for a waitress, and since they’re very particular about who they employ, they’ve asked the managers of our regional hotels if we have any staff with potential. I don’t want to lose you so quickly, but I can find someone else for our level of waitressing. The London Rathleigh is a very fine hotel and the restaurant there maintains a much higher standard than this one can –
though we do quite well for a small provincial hotel.’
She was surprised at that. To her, the King’s Head seemed the last word in luxury – and large, not small.
‘You’d learn things from continuing your training in London which you could never learn here. However, it is my hope that one day you may come back here as head waitress. Your family lives in the area, after all.’
The offer took her breath away and for a moment she couldn’t put two words together. Then they tumbled out in a rush. ‘Oh, I’d love to go to London! Thank you so much for thinking of me, Mr Sewell.’
‘There’s just one thing: are you courting? It’d be a waste us putting all this effort into you if you’re going to get married in a year or two.’
‘I don’t have a young man because I don’t want to get married.’ Though she’d been asked to walk out with fellows three times now. ‘I’ve seen how unhappy my sister is with her husband.’
He looked surprised at her frankness. When would she learn to keep quiet about her personal life? Mary had told her the other day that managers and head waiters didn’t want to know that sort of thing.
He didn’t comment, apart from, ‘That’s all right, then. Now, to practicalities. We need you to start next week, Irene, so that you’re trained in London ways by the Christmas rush. It takes a very special girl to do that so quickly, but I know you won’t let me down.’
‘I can do it, sir, I know I can. But where will I live in London? Will they help me find lodgings?’
He smiled. ‘You’ll live in at the Rathleigh, of course. They employ so many young women, they have dormitories
for them. They’ll deduct the cost of living in from your wages, but I think you’ll find it much cheaper than London lodgings.’
She beamed at him. ‘That’s all right, then. I’ll do my very best to give satisfaction, sir.’
‘We’d like you to leave on Monday. You’ll be provided with a train ticket and your taxi fare from the station to the London hotel.’
That took her breath away. Her, riding in a taxi.
She floated out of his room, and when Mary asked her what was making her smile, she told her. Then she realised that Mary had been there longer and was struggling not to appear jealous. ‘I’m sorry. I owe this to you. I wish you were coming too.’
‘So do I. Perhaps another time.’
She gave Mary a hug. ‘Thank you so much. If I can ever put in a good word for you, I will.’
It was only when she was walking home that Renie had time to think how this would affect her sister. Poor Nell would be very lonely then. The thought of that made her feel guilty, but she couldn’t bear to turn down this golden opportunity and she knew dear Nell wouldn’t want her to.
Renie sighed happily. She’d dreamt of escaping from Milnrow and her brother-in-law, and now she was going to do it, she really was.
Cliff threw a fit when Renie said she’d be leaving and instantly forbade her to go. He and Nell had a row about it later and of course, in such a small house, Renie heard every word.
‘I forbid her to go!’ he yelled.
‘Why?’
‘Because I bloody well say so, that’s why.’
The baby began to cry, frightened by the loud voices. Renie heard Cliff yell, ‘Stop that brat squalling!’ and then the bed frame creaked as he turned over. Poor Nell had to get up to comfort little Sarah. She took the baby downstairs, as she often did.
Renie wondered whether to go down and join her, but was tired and couldn’t resist closing her eyes.
Once Cliff had gone to work the next day, Nell said, ‘Just pack up and go on Monday. You’ve only a few days to wait. He needn’t know anything till after you’ve left.’
‘He’ll get mad at you then.’
Nell shrugged. ‘He’s always getting mad. I can’t do anything right these days, especially when Sarah wakes him up at night.’
‘Oh, Nell.’ Renie hesitated, wondering whether to say something about this sham of a marriage, but her sister turned round and started clattering pots and pans, so she held her peace.
Cliff seemed to take for granted that she’d do as he told her and stay in Milnrow. Luckily, he never poked his head into her bedroom, so he didn’t see the trunk she’d bought with money from her savings. Not that the trunk was full, but it was on the list of items she had to provide. She wasn’t going to buy any new clothes till she got to London, where she’d keep her eyes open for good quality, second-hand ones. If she’d dressed well here, Cliff would have demanded more money from her.
On the Monday Cliff went off to work as usual, but somehow, while she finished her packing and got her trunk
taken to the station, Renie kept thinking he’d find out and try to stop her.
It wasn’t till the second train pulled out of Manchester that she began to feel safe. Her spirits lifted and she began to take an interest in the places they were passing through. Nell had packed her some sandwiches, an apple and a bottle of cold tea for the journey, so she wouldn’t need to spend any of her money on food.
She felt as if she’d grown suddenly older, thrown on her own resources like this. She only had her savings to fall back on if anything went wrong, so she was determined to be very careful.
She still winced when she remembered how careless she’d been with the few pennies that came her way when she was younger. Such a waste! Now, thanks to her tips, every penny of which she’d saved, she had nearly ten pounds tucked away for a rainy day because she would never ask Cliff for help, no matter how desperate she was.
She could live on that money for weeks, if the worst came to the worst. But if she worked hard, she should be all right. The hotel owners treated their staff well.
But oh, she was going to miss Nell so much. She missed her eldest sister too. Surely a woman as clever as Mattie would be managing all right?
And one day the three of them would be reunited, Renie had to believe that. When they ran away, they’d agreed to try to make contact after two years through Cliff’s family. But Cliff was refusing to contact his family. In March next year the two years would have passed and maybe somehow, whatever Cliff said, they could find a way to get in touch with Mattie.
In November, Gilbert Rycroft flung himself out of the house after yet another row with his father. Marriage! Was that all his parents could think of? He was twenty-five and enjoying life. Why should he marry when he had two older brothers quite willing to provide heirs for the family estate in Hampshire?
He had no desire whatsoever to settle down. He loved visiting friends, hunting, shooting, whatever each season brought.
‘You shouldn’t be riding when you’re in such a temper, Master Gil,’ the head groom said.
‘I’ll be calmer when I get back, Walter.’
‘You’ll have to give in to them one day, Master Gil.’
‘I’m
not
marrying Amelia Frensham and that’s flat. It’d be like marrying my sister.’ He looked at the ageing man, who’d been more like a father to him than his own father had, and said quietly, ‘I just can’t do it with her, Walter.’
‘They shouldn’t have brought you up together.’
‘I don’t know that it’d have made any difference. There
are some women you want in bed and others you don’t want, however nice they are.’
‘Then go and ride it off, but treat that horse gently. It’s muddy underfoot after all the rain we’ve had lately.’
Impatient to get out into the fresh air, Gil mounted and rode off across the nearby meadow, sailing over the fence at the other side of it.
Walter watched him go, shaking his head. ‘They’re pressing him too hard,’ he muttered. ‘No good will come of it.’
That lad didn’t have enough to keep him busy and use up his energy. They should have found him a job instead of encouraging him to live in idleness. Money didn’t always bring true happiness, as Walter had seen in this household.
Two hours later the son of a local farmer came galloping into the stable yard, yelling loudly. ‘Come quick! Master Gil’s hurt bad.’
Walter sent one groom up to the house, the other to fetch the doctor, then set off to find out what had happened to his lad, not forgetting to take his rifle. If the accident had been a bad one, there might be a horse to put out of its misery.
The sound of a horse groaning, a hoarse anguished sound, reached them before they got to the scene of the accident. A rifle shot cracked out and the sound cut off abruptly.
Walter shook his head, tears rising in his eyes. He’d bred that mare himself and she was one of his favourites. ‘Damn fool! I’ll give him what for.’
But there was no scolding Gil, who was lying on the damp ground, white and only half-conscious, his left arm and leg twisted at unnatural angles.
London terrified Renie. The buildings were so tall, and even Euston Station was like a palace, with a high ceiling full of glass panels like a giant’s greenhouse. She was jostled by crowds of rushing people, who all seemed to know where they were going, which was more than she did.
She was relieved when a kindly older porter took pity on her and carried her luggage, showing her where to get a cab.
She knew she was supposed to tip him because she’d seen guests at the hotel tipping people, but wasn’t sure how much.
When she offered him sixpence, he smiled and closed her hand round the coin. ‘Keep it, lass. You’re the same age as my granddaughter, I should think, and about as short of money.’
‘Thank you.’
As he helped load her luggage into the cab, he added, ‘Good luck in London. I hope you’re going to a good place. In service, are you?’
‘No. I’m going to work in a hotel, the Rathleigh.’
‘The one round the corner from Yew Tree Gardens? Nice hotel, that. You’ll be all right there if you work hard. I’ve heard they treat their staff decently.’
She looked back at the station as they pulled away. The porter had told her to look at the famous arch in front of it. Big columns of stone were topped by a roof like a flattened triangle. She’d never seen anything like it before.
It felt very grand to be riding in a cab.
The horse slowed down and the cab driver called out, ‘These are the gardens. The hotel is just round the corner. You’ll be able to walk round them when you’re free. They were left for the use of everyone.’
She was a bit disappointed but didn’t say so. Yew Tree
Gardens were in the centre of a square, and weren’t very big, only a scrubby oblong of grass about two hundred yards long and a hundred wide, with a few trees and flower beds round the edges, all enclosed by iron railings. The yew trees formed dark clumps here and there. Not her favourite sort of tree.
The horse speeded up again and turned a corner which led to a terrace of buildings. These weren’t small houses like those in the terraces she knew, but very large ones, built for rich people, she was sure. They were all five storeys high and exactly the same in style, looking quietly elegant, as if they knew and were proud of their place in the world.
‘They bought the end four houses,’ the cab driver called, ‘and made them into a hotel. It goes round the corner, too.’
She’d have liked to go up the wide steps to the big front entrance of the hotel, but of course she knew better than to do that. So did the driver, who turned into a narrow street between the side part of the hotel and the next row of large houses.
A bored-looking pageboy came out of the hotel as she was paying the driver and called, ‘Can I help you?’
‘I’m starting work here.’
‘Right-o.’ He vanished and reappeared with a trolley, on to which he and the driver unloaded her trunk and bag. Then the lad wheeled them inside without even looking at her.
Before she followed him, she looked up at the building in awe. It was surprisingly big with the wing down the side.
‘Hurry up, you!’ the lad yelled.
She rushed inside and followed him to the housekeeper’s room, feeling nervous. This woman could make her life pleasant or miserable.
He knocked on the door and when a voice called, ‘Come!’ he led the way inside.
‘The new girl’s here, Mrs Tolson. Shall I take her things up?’ This time his voice was quiet and respectful.
‘Yes please, Billy. She’s in Dormitory Two, the bed next to the door on the right.’ She turned to study the newcomer.
Mrs Tolson was so elegant she took Renie’s breath away. She looked more like a lady than a housekeeper.
‘Welcome to the London Rathleigh, Irene. You come highly recommended by Mr Sewell.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Tolson.’
‘He says you’re a hard worker, but you still have a lot to learn, so I’ll put you under Maud’s wing. She’s our senior waitress and a very good teacher, so be sure to listen to her carefully and do what she tells you.’
‘I’ll do my very best, I promise.’
‘Tell me about your family.’
This question surprised Renie, but she explained the situation quickly.
‘And what do you like to do in your spare time?’
‘Read. Is there a library near here that I can join?’
Mrs Tolson nodded approvingly. ‘A very good pastime and one we encourage. We have two bookcases full of books in the women’s sitting room for the use of our female staff. When you’ve finished reading those that interest you, you might need to go to the local library, which isn’t far away. Not many of our women staff bother much with reading, I’m afraid.’
She rang a small silver bell and another woman arrived, about forty and very thin. ‘This is Irene Fuller, who is starting as a waitress. Irene, this is Miss Pilkins, who is the
assistant housekeeper in charge of the hotel rooms, and also the women staff and their accommodation. Take Irene upstairs, please, Miss Pilkins, and check that she has the correct clothes. If not, fit her out from the spares, then take her down to meet Maud. By the time you’ve done that, it’ll be nearly mealtime and you can show her where to go.’
Miss Pilkins led the way at a brisk pace. ‘This is the staff lift and those are the staff stairs. We never use the customers’ lifts or stairs.’
Renie had never ridden in a lift before and she felt a little nervous because the iron grill, which was pulled across to form a door, allowed her to see all the workings as well as each floor they passed through. She had an urge to clutch Miss Pilkins, but didn’t give in to it.
‘This is the fifth floor, the top one. The women staff’s accommodation is to the right. You are never, ever to go to the left, which is the men’s area.’
‘Yes, Miss Pilkins.’
Just before they turned into Dormitory Two, which was apparently for the younger women, Miss Pilkins indicated a door. ‘That’s my room. If you need help in the night, you’re to knock me up. You’re not to bring anyone else up here, even if they’re related to you.’
‘I don’t know anyone in London.’
‘Very well. If you’ll open your trunk, I’ll check your working clothes.’
Feeling a bit ashamed of how little she had, Renie took the key off the chain round her neck and unlocked her trunk.
‘You’ll need more than that.’ Miss Pilkins pulled a little notebook out of her pocket and made a quick list. ‘Let’s go and sort out what you need. Mrs Tolson keeps some spares.
They’re second hand but of good quality. You’ll be charged for them at a shilling a week out of your wages.’
An hour later, Renie owned more clothes than ever in her life before. They were made of good, hard-wearing fabrics and Miss Pilkins took care to find ones that fitted her properly, too. She wished she had something half as good for her off-duty clothes.
So many new things to learn, she thought as Miss Pilkins showed her how to tie the apron. ‘Aprons belong to the hotel and are laundered by them. You will be given a clean one every day. If there’s an accident and you need another clean one, ask Maud. Now, take the uniform off and change into your normal clothes.’
She led the way briskly down to the foyer and introduced Renie to Maud, who was supervising the clearing up of the tea shop.
‘I’m just finishing,’ Maud said. ‘If you wait over there, you can watch what we do, then we’ll go for our meal.’
In the staff dining room, which was at the rear of the building in the rear wing, Maud handed her over to Daphne, who was a year or two older than Renie, rather plump, with a cheerful expression and brown hair with a frizzy fringe.
‘Call me Daff, everyone does when I’m not on duty,’ she said as soon as Maud had gone off to the senior staff dining room for her own meal.
Renie sat quietly at the table, enjoying the food, of which you could eat as much as you wanted. She noticed how daintily the girls used their cutlery, and kept an eye on them to make sure she was doing things the right way. But her time waitressing in the King’s Head had taught her to use her knives and forks properly, thank goodness.
After they’d cleared the table, Daff explained about the roster for clearing up the staff dining rooms, then took Renie to the attic sitting room, where both the housekeeping and waitressing female staff sat in the evenings.
‘Girls, this is Irene. She’s from Lancashire.’ Daff frowned at her. ‘You don’t sound like a northerner.’
‘I’m from Wiltshire really. I’ve only been living in Lancashire because my sister and her husband moved there.’
‘Parents dead?’
‘Well, my mother is. I don’t get on with my father.’
They spent a few minutes asking Renie questions about herself, then left her in peace. At nine o’clock, two girls went out to fetch jugs of cocoa and supper, which was whatever cakes and biscuits had been left in the tea shop. Soon afterwards the women started going to bed, so Renie followed Daff.
She felt shy about undressing in front of strangers, but she quickly realised that they didn’t stare at one another and most used a nightdress to cover themselves as they finished undressing.
She was so tired she didn’t even remember pulling the covers up, and could only stare round, bewildered by her surroundings, when Daff woke her at seven o’clock in the morning.
Walter fell to his knees beside Gil and tried to comfort his lad while they waited for help after the accident. He felt more a father to Gil than Mr Rycroft had ever been. If Walter had ever been blessed with children, he’d have treated them more lovingly. All show and no go, that was the master. Appearances and ‘doing the right thing’ counted more than
people’s feelings, especially with an unimportant third son.
Dr Lawrence arrived a few minutes later and, to Walter’s annoyance, he’d been drinking. At this hour of the morning, too! If there had been anyone else to send for, Walter would have done it.
A short examination and the doctor shook his head. ‘It’s a bad one, this. Send for a cart with plenty of straw. It’s going to hurt to move him.’
‘I sent for one already.’
‘His left arm’s out of its socket and it’s broken as well. Let’s get that shoulder back in place first, then we’ll find something to splint the arm.’
He did this so quickly that Walter didn’t have time to protest. But surely more care should have been taken? It was the second time Gil’s shoulder had popped out in the past year and his scream of pain was so loud and agonised, Walter felt sick to think how rough the doctor had been.
To his relief the cart arrived then.
Back at the house, Walter had a quiet word with the master, begging him to send for a London specialist doctor to set the arm and leg properly, not Dr Lawrence.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘He’s been drinking, sir.’
Mr Rycroft went across to the local doctor, recoiling at the smell of alcohol. ‘You’ve been drinking.’
‘Just a quick nip to keep out the cold.’ But the doctor was swaying slightly and his eyes weren’t in proper focus.
‘More than a nip. You’re not fit to care for anyone. Leave my house this minute!’ Mr Rycroft himself escorted the doctor to the door.
As he watched his master use the telephone to call for a
London doctor, Walter decided there was some use to the newfangled apparatus after all.
He was concerned about the mistress, who was sitting by Gil’s side, looking as if she might faint at any moment.
But there was nothing any of them could do except wait. And pray for their poor lad.
By the time a specialist arrived from London three hours later, accompanied by his assistant, Gil was tossing and moaning. Walter stood by the bed, occasionally trying to comfort him, but Mr Rycroft remained by the window, looking round in disapproval as his son groaned in pain.