Dream a Little Dream (7 page)

‘I have no intention of going into poor houses to visit sick people! Heaven only knows what sorts of diseases we could pick up. No, it is out of the question.’

For the first time in years, a sense of unease entered Edwina’s head. Had Robert been right all along, in saying the children should have been made aware of their background from the time they could understand? Then she mentally shook her head, not allowing the idea to take root. She’d done a good job with the children, they were a credit to her. And she couldn’t understand why Robert wasn’t equally proud of them. Then she conjured up a picture of his face last night, full of determination. She had no doubt he meant every word he said, and if certain things didn’t change he would carry out his threat.

‘I have to tell you, Victoria, that your father made it quite clear that unless you and Nigel found a worthy cause where you could be usefully employed for one or two days a week, he would take over the running of the house himself. That would mean I’d no longer have control over the money; he would pay all the outgoing expenses. Any money we needed, we would have to ask him for.’

‘He’s bluffing, he wouldn’t do it.’ Victoria waved a hand as though dismissing the idea. ‘I will call his bluff.’

‘He was not bluffing, Victoria,’ Edwina said. ‘So if you refuse to do as he asks, then on your own head be it.’

Victoria was livid. She was so used to having all her requests for money granted without question, she had no intention of allowing the system to be changed without strong resistance. And when she spoke, her voice raised, her anger was evident. ‘And you, Mother? Did you just stand like a servant and let Father dictate to you? Really, you do surprise and disappoint me.’

A knock on the door had Edwina lifting both hands for silence. ‘Not one word,’ she hissed, ‘we don’t want the servants knowing our business.’ Then she called, ‘Come in, Agnes.’

The housekeeper carried the tray to a table at the side of Edwina. Her eyes appeared to be concentrating on the tray and its being deposited on the table without mishap. But she could feel the tension in the air and sly glances took in the stony expressions on the faces of the two women. ‘Shall I pour, Miss Edwina?’

‘No, thank you, Agnes, I’ll attend to it. You go about your business, I’m sure you have lots to do.’

With a nod, the housekeeper left the room. She closed the door behind her but didn’t move. She’d heard the raised voices before she’d knocked and knew Mr Robert was the target of their anger. This wasn’t fair, because he was the one who put the finest food on the table, silk sheets on the beds, and had provided furniture fit for a palace. And if it wasn’t for him
they
wouldn’t be sitting there now being waited on hand and foot.

Agnes sighed, and was about to walk away when she heard Miss Victoria speak. It was the venom and sarcasm in her voice that had the housekeeper rooted to the spot.

‘I don’t know why you kowtow to her, Mother – she’s only a servant, after all. She gets paid for the work she does, has a room to herself and eats the same food we do. Where else would she be so well off? She’s a good cook, I’ll grant you that, but she could easily be replaced. And don’t forget what happened yesterday. A silly little incident, brought about by herself, and she threatens to leave! I’d have let her go, and good riddance. But no, everyone is at great pains to coax her to stay. And as a result, Nigel and I are to be penalised. Well, I for one would be glad to see the back of her.’

Agnes moved away from the door, muttering, ‘Oh, yer would, would yer? Well, I won’t give yer the bleedin’ satisfaction, yer jumped-up little madam. I’ll go when Mr Robert asks me to go, and not one minute before. Now I know the way yer talk about yer father behind his back, and me, I’ll bloody well haunt yer.’ She climbed a flight of stairs to see Kitty on her knees polishing the spindles of the ornate staircase. And with the scene came the comparison. This little woman, half-starved, was forced to work just to keep a roof over her head. Apart from the husband she adored, all she had in her life was toil and worry. And yet those three downstairs didn’t even pass her the time of day because she was only a skivvy. Not worthy of a smile or a kind word. But if Agnes had to choose between Kitty and Victoria for a friend, she knew who’d she’d choose any day. Kitty was more caring and sympathetic than the daughter of the house would ever be. ‘Come on, sunshine, it’s time for a cuppa and one of me scones what I’ve just taken out of the oven. They’re still hot and they’ll be just the job with some butter.’

‘I’ll clear me polish and dusters away first, Aggie.’

‘Leave the bleedin’ things where they are. With a bit of
luck
a certain person might trip over them and break the nose she’s so fond of looking down.’ When the housekeeper took hold of Kitty’s arm, and could feel only bone, her anger increased. Why was life so bloody unfair? Not that she had any worries herself, she’d never married and only had herself to think about. But surely fate could have been kinder to Kitty Higgins? ‘I’ll take the blame if anything is said. After all, I had a very big upset last night and I haven’t got over it yet.’

When they were seated facing each other across the kitchen table, Kitty said, ‘Yer should be careful what yer say, queen, ’cos yer never know who’s listening.’

‘That cuts two ways, sunshine. They should be careful what they say in case
I’m
standing outside the door listening.’

‘Nah, yer wouldn’t do that!’ Kitty closed her eyes as she bit into the hot scone on which a generous portion of butter had melted. What luxury, what bliss. If only her Alf could have one of these while they were hot and oozing real best butter. ‘As I said, you wouldn’t do nothing like that.’

‘Would and have, sunshine! I’ve just heard Miss High and Mighty Victoria say she’d like to see the back of me. They say eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves, and that is probably right, but at least I heard the truth. I know where I stand now.’

‘Pay no attention to her, queen, she’s not worth it. Hasn’t got a good word for anyone and a slapped backside wouldn’t go amiss.’ A picture flashed into Kitty’s head, of Mr Robert with Miss Victoria across his knee, smacking her with a slipper. The image was nearly as pleasing as the scone. ‘That’s something I’d like to see,’ she mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs. ‘The queer one being taken down a peg or two.’

‘It’ll happen one day, you mark my words. All it needs is for her to insult the wrong person and she’ll end up getting her face slapped.’

Kitty lifted her cup. ‘I’ll drink to that, queen. But you steer clear of her ’cos if she can cause trouble for yer, she will. And I wouldn’t want to work here if you left. Yer see, ye’re me best
mate
, I don’t bother with no one else.’

There was affection in the housekeeper’s smile. ‘Don’t yer start worrying about me leaving, Kitty, ’cos I ain’t going nowhere. Miss Victoria can do her damnedest, she won’t get rid of me. Not while Mr Robert and Miss Abbie are here. They’re like family to me and I love the bones of them.’

‘D’yer love the bones of me, queen?’

‘There’s nothing else of yer to love, is there? Ye’re a bag of bleedin’ bones! I’m going to have to start trying to fatten yer up, ’cos yer worry the life out of me. D’yer know what, sunshine, yer shadow’s got more meat on it than you have.’

Kitty thought this was funny. ‘Oh, you are a one, Aggie! Just wait until I tell my Alf what yer said, he won’t half laugh.’

‘While ye’re at it, yer can tell him I want yer to bring a basin in with yer tomorrow so I can fill it with thick, nourishing soup. It’ll put a lining on yer tummies.’

‘Is that what the family are having tomorrow for starters?’

Agnes nodded, a sly smile on her face. ‘They don’t know it yet, but yes, that’s what they’re having for starters.’

‘But I thought Miss Edwina gave yer a menu every day?’

‘She does, she brings it in every night for the next day. And tonight the menu will probably start with a consommé, which they usually have on a Thursday. But with a little wangle here, and a little lie there, I bet she’ll leave this kitchen thinking what a clever woman she is to have thought of having barley broth for a change.’

‘Ye’re a bleedin’ caution, you are, Aggie!’ Kitty grinned. ‘There’s no flies on you, they’re all ruddy bluebottles.’

‘Then I’ll have to make sure none of them fly into the soup, won’t I, sunshine?’

Robert took out his fobwatch and turned to the man standing beside him. ‘I’m off for lunch now, and I think I’ll go straight home afterwards. You don’t need me here, do you?’

‘I’m not even needed meself for a couple of hours, the auctioneer’s two assistants do all the work. There’s only the
books
to see to when the auction’s over, and that’s no problem. The bidding has been quite brisk so I think you’ll find we’ve had a good day.’ A few years ago Jeff would have been too embarrassed to look his boss in the eye when similar conversations like this took place, and many times he’d wished Robert had never confided in him. But not any more. His employer had been open and honest, and after a few visits to the large, richly furnished house in Mossley Hill, Jeff not only understood, but sympathised. ‘You go and enjoy your lunch, Bob, I can manage things from now. I’ll have the books ready for your inspection tomorrow.’

Robert nodded to the auctioneer, then walked through the double doors donning his beige bowler hat. He stood outside the building breathing in the fresh air as he pulled on a pair of soft leather gloves, then made his way to the black Bentley saloon car parked nearby. Tall and well-built, he cut a handsome figure in his well-fitting expensive clothes, and many an eye was turned in his direction. And he was in a happy frame of mind as he turned on the ignition and the car purred into life. He only came to Chester one day in a month, and it was a day he always looked forward to.

Five minutes later, Robert pulled up outside a very ordinary house in the middle of a terrace of other ordinary houses. There was a handkerchief-sized garden and a short path leading to the front door. The windows were neat, with pure white net curtains hanging behind gleaming panes of glass, and the brass knocker shone so brightly he could see his reflection in it. Before he had time to knock, the door was opened by an attractive woman in her forties whose smile told him he was welcome. ‘Come in, Robert.’ She closed the door then turned and lifted her face for a kiss. ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘And it’s good to see you, Maureen, my dear.’

‘Hang your coat and hat up, while I nip through to the kitchen and take our dinner out of the oven.’ Over her shoulder, she called, ‘I’ve got some nice gammon, to have with egg and tomato.’

‘And chips I hope!’ Robert followed her through the small living room to the kitchen. He felt more at home in this house than he did in his own. ‘If there’s no chips I’ll take my custom to the café down the road.’

‘Oh, you and your chips! Honestly, you’re like a little boy sometimes.’

‘When I’m with you I feel young, you have that effect on me. I come to your door an old man, with all the worries of the world on my shoulders. But when I step over the threshold I am rejuvenated and feel as free as a bird.’ Robert chuckled. ‘A very young bird.’

‘An old man indeed!’ Maureen Schofield wagged a finger in his face. ‘It so happens that I am only a year younger than you, and I refuse to think of myself as an old woman. So don’t you be putting years on me. I prefer to think we are both in the prime of life.’ She shooed him through the kitchen door and back into the living room. ‘Sit down and read the paper while I peel a few potatoes to make some chips for you. I couldn’t bear to see a grown man cry ’cos he doesn’t get what he wants.’

‘Why can’t I stand and watch you? We get little enough time together as it is, I would hate to waste any by sitting twiddling my thumbs.’

‘Sit down, Robert, and do as you’re told. I’ll have the meal on the table much quicker if I’m left on my own. Ten minutes at the outside.’

Robert spent the time reminiscing. It was three years now since Maureen came into his life, and it was by pure luck that he was the one who called on her, and not Jeff. An elderly neighbour of hers had died, and the family had asked her if she would see to the selling of the furniture as they lived some distance away. She had contacted their office in Chester and as he’d been there at the time, he agreed to come along and give a valuation. That was how easily the friendship came about. Robert took to Maureen right away, she was so warm and friendly and had a good sense of humour. They’d got
talking
and he learned she was a spinster, by choice and not necessity. She was born when her mother was turned forty, and by the time she was old enough to have a social life, both her parents were frail and needed looking after. Because she loved them so much, she put her own life on the back burner and cared for them until they died. She was thirty by that time, and all the friends she’d had in her teens were married with families. When she was telling Robert this, there’d been no self-pity in her voice, no regret that the best years of her life had passed her by, and he found himself being drawn to her. She worked in a shop, and as Wednesday was half-day closing, he’d said casually that as he was in Chester every fourth Wednesday, he might pop in one day for a cup of tea. For months he made excuses, that he was just passing the bottom of the road, or he was calling on someone in the next street. Lame excuses, as they both knew. Then he took to calling every fourth week without making excuses, and Maureen took to looking forward to seeing him.

‘Elbows off the table, please.’ She smiled down as she placed a plate in front of him and one on the opposite side of the table. ‘You were miles away then.’

‘Yes, my dear, I was reliving the last three years. It doesn’t seem that long since I first knocked on your door. The time has flown over.’

‘It hasn’t gone without incident, though, Robert. I’ve got many more grey hairs in my head now than I did then.’

There was affection in his smile. If he had to describe Maureen in one word, it would be bonny. She was by no means fat, but she had a full rounded figure, and such a happy, bonny face. ‘I think I’ve grown more grey hairs than you, my dear.’