Yew Tree Gardens (3 page)

It was left to Walter to explain exactly what had happened.

The specialist stared down at his patient. ‘I’ll have to examine the arm and leg, and I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you, Mr Rycroft.’

He was gentle and careful, very different from the local doctor, but though Gil tried hard to bear the pain in silence, he couldn’t help crying out and Walter had to help the doctor’s assistant hold him still as the arm and leg were checked.

When he’d finished, the specialist turned to the master. ‘Only time will tell for sure, Mr Rycroft, but some fool’s handled your son’s arm roughly. The leg’s a nasty break, but it would be much worse if someone hadn’t straightened it carefully.’

‘I did that. I’ve dealt with animals with broken limbs,’ Walter said.

‘You did well. Now, I’ll need to use chloroform on your son to deal with the broken limbs.’ The specialist looked towards Mr Rycroft, who had come as far as the foot of the
bed now, but still wasn’t looking at his son. ‘Is there a nurse for afterwards?’

‘We can send for one.’

‘There’s me,’ Walter said quietly. ‘I’ve had a lot to do with sick and injured animals.’

‘This is not a job for a groom,’ the master said at once.

Walter was already disgusted by the way he was treating his son and had difficulty speaking politely. ‘With respect, sir, I’ve known Master Gil since he was a babe in arms. He’ll do as I tell him where he won’t listen to others.’

‘You’re not—’

The specialist interrupted, speaking with a lowered voice, but Walter could hear what he said and was sure Gil could too.

‘It’s not likely your son will recover full use of that arm and shoulder, Mr Rycroft. I suspect there could be some nerve damage. We’ll have to wait and see. If your man here feels he can best deal with your son, I’m happy to have him help us and then leave him in charge. You can tell he’s a man of sense by the way he dealt with the situation today. I’m sure you can get him a nurse to assist him.’

‘That means I’ll lose my head groom.’

The specialist couldn’t hide his surprise at this.

Walter managed to speak quietly and politely, because it’d do no good to speak sharply to the master, who had sacked men for less. ‘Mark can take charge, sir. I have absolute confidence in him.’

‘Oh, very well!’

‘Perhaps you’d like to leave us to it, then, sir?’ the specialist suggested. ‘If you could put a maid at our disposal to fetch hot water or anything else we need?’

‘Very well. I’ll be down in the library when you’ve finished.’

Walter could see Gil relax slightly after his father had left.

Once the room had been organised, the assistant brought out the necessary equipment. He put a mask over the patient’s nose and mouth, then dropped liquid on to it. Walter had to help hold Gil at first, because he clearly didn’t enjoy the sensation.

‘They feel as if they’re smothering,’ the assistant said quietly, ‘but they’re not. There. He’s unconscious now.’

The specialist worked quickly to set the leg, working by feel, then dealt with the arm, frowning and shaking his head. ‘I fear he’ll never have full use of this.’

Walter watched with interest as the assistant helped encase the limbs in bandages impregnated with plaster of Paris.

‘I’ve never seen those before,’ he said. ‘How clever.’

The specialist nodded acknowledgement of the compliment. ‘They were introduced during the Crimean War, but of course I make my own and we manage rather better nowadays. There. That should do it.’

Gradually Gil regained consciousness, moaning and trying to move.

The specialist seemed to have lost interest and was now taking off the smock he’d worn to keep his clothes clean, so Walter went to the head of the bed. ‘Hold still, lad. It’s over now.’

‘Over … thank heaven. Don’t let my father—’

‘I’ll keep him away from you as much as I can.’

The specialist listened to this with raised eyebrows. ‘Should you speak like that about your master?’

‘Mr Rycroft is no good with sick people, sir, because he’s never had a day’s illness in his life. I’m the one who’s looked after Master Gil since he was ten.’

‘I see. Well, I’ll leave you two to clear up, and go and report. Is there another doctor in the neighbourhood apart from the one who first attended Mr Rycroft?’

‘Yes, sir. Dr Laver was away in London when it happened but he should be back tomorrow.’

‘I’ll write him a note and he can telephone me if he needs more information or is worried about anything.’ He looked at his assistant. ‘Usual painkillers.’

The doctor went to take his leave of Mr Rycroft senior, who had joined his wife in her sitting room.

The assistant finished putting away the equipment, then took a box containing folded pieces of paper out of one of the leather bags. ‘These powders are to be taken in half a glass of water, one only, morning and evening, to help with the pain. If you need more, you can get them from the local doctor. It’s written on the box what’s in them.’

Once he’d gone, Gil opened his eyes and looked at Walter. ‘I heard what he said.’

‘I thought you did.’

‘I’m going to be a cripple, aren’t I?’

‘You’ll have one bad arm, lad. That’s not exactly a cripple.’

‘I won’t be able to ride, though, will I?’ Gil turned his head away. ‘And it’s all my own fault for losing my temper.’

There was nothing you could say to that.

The day following Renie’s arrival in London, she went to work under Maud. The morning light wasn’t flattering to
the head waitress, who was extremely thin, with a rather pointed nose and lightly greying hair.

She studied the newcomer for a moment or two then nodded. ‘You’ve tied your apron properly, but let me just show you how to fix the cap on so that it doesn’t slip.’ She took Renie to a mirror and smiled at her in it. ‘Bewildering, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, very. But I’ll do my best to learn quickly.’

‘I’m sure you will. Mr Sewell hasn’t sent us a bad ’un yet. Now, let’s get to work.’

The waitresses staffed the tea shop during the day, leaving the male waiters to see to customers who took luncheon and dinner in the elegant restaurant.

Renie found her first full day at the Rathleigh bewildering. They did things so differently here and were fussy about every tiny detail. She tried her best to remember what she was shown and was relieved when Maud said in her quiet way as they finished clearing up, ‘You did well for a first day, Irene.’

‘Thank you. I won’t forget about the plates next time.’

‘I’m sure you won’t.’

Renie joined the other girls in the staff sitting room after her meal, listening more than talking, which was unusual for her. They seemed mostly quiet people, with Daff the liveliest and loudest. Renie guessed that she was the youngest, but Daff could only be a couple of years older. Even she quietened down when one of the older women stared across at her, said her name and shook her head slightly.

After a while, Renie went over to the bookcase to find something to read.

‘Not another bookworm,’ Daff teased. She was embroidering
a blouse, sighing every now and then as her thread got knotted, or she had to pull out a stitch.

‘I like reading.’ Renie studied the titles of the books.

A woman nearby pointed to one book with a brightly coloured cover. ‘I really enjoyed this one.’

Renie picked it up.
Helen With The High Hand
. ‘What a strange title. I haven’t read any books by Arnold Bennett before.’ She studied the first page, then nodded. ‘Looks as if it’ll be good.’

‘You have to put your name on the borrowers’ list when you borrow a book and cross it out when you bring it back.’

Renie did as she was shown then put the book down by her chair. ‘I need to write a letter to my sister first. I’ll go and get my writing things.’

‘No need to do that if it’s to your family,’ the same woman said. ‘They encourage us to write home. They not only provide paper and envelopes, but pay postage too. Though don’t try to slip in a letter to a friend. They know all our families’ addresses.’

‘How kind of them!’

‘They’re not all of them kind,’ Daff muttered.

Renie ignored that remark. People she’d met had been very kind indeed. She wrote a quick letter to Nell. The same woman took her out to show her where to leave the letter for collection in the morning.

‘Don’t take too much notice of Daff. She always finds something to complain about. They’re very fair employers here, even though they work you hard. Mr Greaves might be old, but he’s a good manager and keeps everyone on their toes.’

As the days passed, Renie was surprised not to receive
a reply by return of post, but perhaps it would arrive tomorrow. She planned to write to Nell every week without fail, knowing how her letters would cheer her sister up.

When no reply had arrived after three days, Renie wrote again, and this time she did hear from her sister, explaining what had happened and how Cliff had destroyed the letter and address. She was furious to think her brother-in-law had thrown her letter in the fire and not for the first time wished poor Nell hadn’t had to marry Cliff.

Nell hadn’t said whether Cliff was angry about Renie leaving, but he must have been, and he’d have taken it out on his wife.

But there was nothing she could do about her sister’s situation except make sure she was never a burden to Nell, let alone in Cliff’s power. And she’d never, ever let either of her sisters down by misbehaving. Mattie had taught them both the right way to behave and why Nell had given herself to Cliff out of wedlock still puzzled Renie. But that wasn’t something you could ask about, certainly not in a letter that he might get his hands on.

She was missing little Sarah as well as her sister. That child was such a little love.

Renie had never even been inside a big hotel like this one. The King’s Head in Rochdale, bought when the Carlings were just starting up, apparently, was nothing to this place. She felt very ignorant during her first few weeks there, but with temporary staff around, hired just for the festive season, she wasn’t the only one needing to ask her way, so at least she didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.

Gil refused to join his family in London for Christmas and Walter couldn’t change his mind, whatever he said or did.
Gil didn’t share his family’s love of the social whirl. He preferred a quieter life in the country.

Mrs Rycroft came down to see her youngest son one day, staying overnight, but she had to rush back to London for a ball the following evening.

She made time to speak to Walter. ‘He’s very depressed, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, ma’am. I do my best, but he’s had to face some big changes, and he was never an indoor lad.’

‘No. If you need anything, think of anything we can send, just let me know.’

‘I will, ma’am.’

He watched her go, wishing they’d insisted on Gil joining them in London.

It was going to be a very quiet Christmas.

The Rathleigh was almost completely booked out for Christmas, and there were parties held in several of the big private dining rooms every evening.

The female waitresses, normally kept away from serving dinner, had to work in the evenings as well, but they were paid extra for it, so Renie didn’t mind. Of course, she was too junior to actually wait on the posh customers who dined there, but she fetched and carried for the waiters, watching wide-eyed as beautiful women in clothes such as she’d never seen before were shown to their seats.

‘Look at that one,’ Daff hissed as she passed, carrying a steaming tureen of vegetables.

Renie tried not to stare. She wasn’t sure what she thought about peg-top skirts, whose material was bulky and pleated round the hips, then narrowed as it crossed at the front in
two panels. It left a ‘V’ bare near the feet, fully revealing not only the ankles but the lower legs in their silk stockings. Some people thought that was shocking, but at least this lady had neat ankles.

‘Look how low that neckline over there is,’ she whispered to Daff when their paths next crossed. ‘It’s not respectable. My sister would have a fit if I wore something like that.’

‘I’ve seen lower necklines. She looks pretty, though. I wish I had a tiny waist like hers.’

The evening gowns were made in beautiful fabrics like velvet and silk, which Renie had never seen close up before. They seemed to come in more colours than the rainbow and she wished she could buy something more colourful to wear. Not silk or anything impractical, but still, a pretty, bright material would cheer you up.

She tried to describe the clothes in her next letter to Nell, but knew she couldn’t do them justice.

After Christmas, the big pot of tips from happy customers was divided between those who’d worked so hard to serve them.

Mrs Tolson herself came into the women’s sitting room to speak to the women staff. ‘I’m very pleased with you all. You’ve worked hard. Mr Greaves and I have counted the tips and divided it up between you. Also, Mr Carling wishes all employees to have a small bonus, as usual, in appreciation of your hard work over the year.’

She called out the names and women came forward one by one to receive small envelopes and to take a chocolate from a big box.

Renie was called out last.

‘Irene Fuller.’

Daff had to nudge her to remind her that this was her. She still sometimes forgot to answer to her full name.

She peeped into the envelope, which clinked nicely, expecting shillings, and finding three guineas and some change. In addition, she had a bonus on top of her wages paid by the owners, the smallest of any member of the permanent staff, which was only fair because she was a newcomer. But still, it was an extra three shillings, because they got a two shillings bonus for each month of service.

And the chocolate was wonderful. Even better than a Fry’s Chocolate Cream bar. She sucked it slowly to make it last.

When Mrs Tolson had left, one of the older women said, ‘Mean devils!’

Renie looked at her in surprise.

‘I mean the Carlings, young Irene. They’ve earned hundreds of pounds from our hard work and we have to be grateful for a few shillings extra. It’s the customers’ tips that have given us our real bonus.’