Chapter 13

Liverpool, August 1869

‘Gov’nor wants you.

‘Who, me?’

‘Both of you.’

Patty and Vera exchanged glances. ‘Now what?’ Vera asked.

‘He’s probably found out about our little scheme and wants to stop us.’

‘That’s not fair!’ Vera exclaimed.

They arrived at the governor’s office ready to face another injustice at the hands of authority, but he greeted them with a smile – as far as that could be deduced from among the thicket of whiskers that decorated his face.

‘Ah, my two bakers! Come in, come in. I have an opportunity for you.’

‘Sir?’

‘You did very well with the cakes for Miss Thornton. Now I have an idea that will give you a chance to show your skills to a wider audience. You will not have met my daughter, Catherine, of course …’

You’re hardly likely to have introduced her to a couple of paupers, Patty thought.

Aloud she said simply, ‘No, sir.’

‘She has been away in France, to complete her education,’ the governor went on. ‘She returned yesterday and tomorrow is her birthday. She will be seventeen. My wife and I have decided to give a small party to celebrate it and to introduce her to society. Nothing too grand. A tea party for about forty people. And it occurred to me that this would be a very good opportunity for you two to demonstrate your culinary skills.’

You old cheapskate! Patty thought. What you really mean is, you can see a way of entertaining your friends on the cheap.

Vera asked, ‘What exactly did you have in mind, sir?’

‘Nothing elaborate. Some sandwiches, sausage rolls perhaps, scones and cakes. And a birthday cake, of course.’ He looked at Patty. ‘Something special, with icing perhaps and decorations.’

‘When do you want this to happen?’ Vera, always practical, asked.

‘On Saturday, a week tomorrow.’

Vera caught Patty’s eye. ‘That means a good deal of extra work, for both of us,’ she said. ‘Do you propose to give us some form of remuneration?’

‘Remuneration?’ The governor’s bushy eyebrows disappeared into his shaggy hair. ‘You are here to work. This is a workhouse. You are expected to earn your keep.’

Patty touched Vera’s sleeve and gave her a warning look. Anything that could be interpreted as insubordination could bring down the governor’s wrath on their heads and result in punishment.

Vera, however, was not to be deterred. ‘We do that already, in the kitchen, sir. You are asking us to do something over and beyond our normal duties. I thought you might regard it as just to reward our efforts in some way.’

‘Ah, reward your efforts, yes, well …’ He could see a way of agreeing without losing face. ‘If what you provide comes up to expectations, you may be sure that some recognition of your work will be forthcoming. And I shall, of course, provide you with any funds required for the purchase of ingredients.’

Vera looked at Patty, who said, ‘We’ll do our best for you, sir.’

Back in the kitchen she said angrily, ‘That mean old devil! He could afford to bring in caterers. He just wants to do it on the cheap.’

‘That’s obvious,’ Vera agreed. ‘But there’s something in what he said about an opportunity.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I don’t know who he plans to invite to this party, but they will be people of some standing, presumably. If we can impress them – well, who knows where it might lead.’

‘If they think I’m going to work my fingers to the bone to feed their guests for no extra outlay on their side, they can think again,’ Patty said. ‘I’ll do it this once, but I’m not going to let the governor lend me out to his friends as a cheap cook.’

‘No, of course not,’ Vera said. ‘I’m talking about getting out of here, permanently.’

‘You think someone might help us to get the backing we need for the tea shop?’

‘You never know. I think it’s worth pulling out all the stops to put on the best show we can manage,’ Vera said.

The governor’s eyebrows shot up again when Patty presented him with a list of necessary provisions, but he handed over the money and this time they were allowed to go out unsupervised to buy them. Vera sought, and was granted, an interview with the governor’s wife and came back having arranged details of seating arrangements, dishes, plates, cups, saucers, napkins and other requisites. Patty chewed her pencil and trawled her memory for recipes. Most of the choices were simple enough: cakes and pastries she had made many times for sale in the tea shop. The thing that gave her most trouble was the birthday cake. Should it be a fruit cake, or a sponge? The governor wanted something spectacular … of course! A Savoy cake! The perfect centrepiece for the table.

During the Friday and the Saturday morning of the following week Patty and Vera worked non-stop. Vera revealed a hitherto unsuspected talent for making bread, so Patty delegated the sandwiches to her, while she concentrated on the sweet things. There were scones and chocolate cakes and the ever popular Victoria sponge and little fairy cakes flavoured with cinnamon. The only thing she did not make was gingerbread. As soon as the midday meal was over, they enlisted the aid of two of the porters to carry the whole lot to the governor’s house, which was adjacent to the workhouse itself. It was a pleasant, double-fronted building with sash windows, set in an extensive garden. The weather was fine and a marquee had been erected on the lawn, with long tables spread with white cloths. The governor’s wife was already there, chivvying a maid servant who was laying plates and cups and saucers. Patty and Vera set out the dishes of delicacies and then Patty placed the Savoy cake in the centre of the top table and removed the cloth which covered it. The sugar coating had set perfectly and Patty had adorned it with candied rose petals and crystallised fruit so that it glowed in the sunlight that filtered in through the canvas.

The governor’s wife clapped her hands and exclaimed, ‘Oh, now that is perfect! How clever of you.’

The visitors were beginning to arrive and Patty and Vera stationed themselves behind the tea urn, ready to serve.

‘Oh, look!’ Vera murmured. ‘Miss Thornton is here, with Sir Basil.’

‘She’ll be Lady Helena now, won’t she?’ Patty asked.

‘I don’t see a wedding ring,’ Vera replied, ‘so I suppose they are not married yet.’

Catherine, the governor’s daughter, arrived, in an over-elaborate pink dress that clashed with her tawny hair. The guests filed past her, offering gifts and good wishes, and took their places at the tables. Vera and the maid servant handed out cups of tea, which Patty dispensed, and the sandwiches and cakes began to disappear.

‘I hope we’ve made enough,’ Vera whispered.

‘There should be,’ Patty responded, ‘unless none of them have eaten dinner.’

‘Everyone’s admiring your Savoy cake,’ Vera told her.

To Patty’s relief, before the table had been completely cleared, the governor rose and made a short speech and then Catherine cut the cake. As they handed the plates round she heard snatches of conversation.

‘What a beautiful cake! I wonder where it came from.’

‘I heard someone say it was made here, by one of the women in workhouse.’

‘No! I don’t believe it!’

‘Really, that’s what I was told …’

After that, the party began to break up and the guests stood around chatting. To her surprise, Patty saw Helena Thornton approaching.

‘Miss Jenkins, and Miss Aston, we meet again.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘You have really excelled yourselves today. Is all this your work?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Even the Savoy cake?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘That was all Patty’s,’ Vera put in. ‘She’s a brilliant pastry chef.’

‘She is indeed.’ Helena paused. ‘I can’t help thinking … No, never mind.’

‘Helena?’ Sir Basil called from the other side of the marquee.

She looked round and then turned to smile at Patty and Vera. ‘I must see what he wants. I’m delighted to have met you both again. Goodbye.’

‘I wonder what she was going to say,’ Vera mused.

‘Never mind that,’ Patty said. ‘We’ve got this lot to clear up.’

When everything had been washed and tidied away Vera sat down to work out what they had spent.

‘There’s five shillings and threepence halfpenny leftover from what the governor gave us,’ she said.

Patty looked at her. ‘You sure?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘I mean, would the old man know, if it was only say … three shillings.’

‘Are you suggesting we should keep some of it?’

‘You were the one who said we should be – what’s the word? – remunerated.’

Vera shook her head. ‘Not like this. That would be dishonest.’

Patty felt herself blush. ‘Yes, of course it would. I was only joking.’

Next morning they went to the governor’s office after church and handed over the surplus money.

‘An excellent effort yesterday,’ he commented. ‘Everyone was full of praise for what we had achieved.’

‘We?’ Patty queried mentally.

‘I’m glad you were satisfied, sir,’ Vera said primly. And waited.

There was a long pause. The governor looked up from counting the money. ‘Ah … yes. The question of reward … a job well done is its own satisfaction, is it not?’

Neither of the women spoke.

‘Yes, quite, but the Bible tells us the labourer is worthy of his hire. Here …’ He pushed two shilling pieces across the table.

Vera scooped them up. ‘Thank you, sir.’

Outside Vera gave a small laugh. ‘Well, it’s better than nothing. It would have taken us a couple of months to accumulate this much.’

‘It’s still an awful long way off what we need, though,’ Patty said.

Vera squeezed her arm. ‘Never mind. Who knows what might come along next?’

She was answered surprisingly rapidly. Two days later they were again summoned to the governor’s office.

‘Now what?’ Patty muttered. ‘If he wants me to make his daughter’s wedding cake he will have to pay me the same as he’d pay a baker.’

‘I think it’s bit early for that,’ Vera said with a chuckle.

They were surprised to find Helena Thornton with the governor. She smiled at them both and said, ‘I’m so glad to see you again.’

‘Miss Thornton has a suggestion to put to you,’ the governor said gruffly. ‘It is not one that I can fully endorse, but I must bow to her judgement.’ He turned to his guest. ‘Miss Thornton?’

‘As you know,’ Helena said, ‘I am about to be married to Sir Basil Fanshawe. The wedding will take place on September the first. We are having a house built on the other side of the river, not far from Birkenhead. It is a pleasant, rural location away from the soot and smoke of the city and now that the ferry service is so frequent it will be easy for Sir Basil to travel to and from his office every day. Hitherto Sir Basil has not needed a separate establishment. He has lived in a bachelor apartment in the city with just a man servant to attend to his needs, but now we shall, of course, need staff to run the new house. Sir Basil has appointed as housekeeper an elderly lady, Miss Eliza Banks, who used to be his nurse when he was a small boy. She has since had several other positions but is now of an age where she finds the care of small children too demanding, and Sir Basil feels an obligation to see that she does not want in her old age.’ Helena smiled but gave a small gesture that suggested that, although she accepted her finance’s motives, she was not entirely happy about the outcome. ‘But the fact is that I do not believe that she is capable of the work involved in running a household, either. So I have decided that what is needed is a young, energetic woman as under-housekeeper, to fulfil those duties which are beyond Miss Banks’s strength.’ She paused and looked from Vera to Patty. ‘We do not want a large establishment. Both Sir Basil and I prefer a quiet life. But I shall, of course, need a cook. I have seen that you are capable, between you, of organising and catering for an event like the party the other day. I am offering you the posts of under-housekeeper and cook. What do you say?’

Patty and Vera stared at her and then at each other, bereft of words. Then Vera said, ‘You do know, ma’am, that we have no references.’

The governor cleared his throat. ‘I have already pointed out that fact to Miss Thornton.’

Helena rearranged her gloves in her lap and leaned forward slightly. ‘Let me explain something. Sir Basil and I are both interested in social progress. We feel that there are a great many injustices in the way society operates at present. It seems to me that your present … situation … is an example of that injustice, and one which I can go some way towards remedying. I am not offering you charity. I am offering you both jobs, which will allow you to return to an independent life. And do not think that I am doing it because I think I can get your services for less than what I would have to pay on the open market. The question of wages can be settled later but you will not find Sir Basil ungenerous. Will you accept?’

‘Of course we will!’ There was a catch in Vera’s voice which was close to tears. ‘I can’t thank you enough for the opportunity, ma’am. And I promise you won’t regret it.’

Helena turned her eyes to Patty, but she did not reply at once. She was struggling with the demands of her conscience. At last she said, ‘Ma’am, might I speak to you in private?’

Helena looked surprised but nodded at once. ‘Of course.’ She turned to the governor. ‘I wonder … could we …?’

The governor was plainly not pleased at being asked to vacate his own office, but he hauled himself to his feet and said gruffly, ‘Of course. We shall be outside when you are ready.’

He waved Vera out ahead of him and closed the door. Helena turned to Patty.

‘Why don’t you sit down? There is no need to stand on ceremony.’

Patty lowered herself onto the chair she indicated, twisting her hands in her apron as she tried to order her thoughts.

‘Now,’ Helena said gently, ‘what is it that is troubling you?’

In broken sentences Patty explained why she had been dismissed from her first position at Speke Hall, and described her brief time on the streets and her rescue by May. She told Helena how Mr Freeman had helped her and given her a job and the circumstances that had led to her being dismissed again. Finally she confessed how she had earned her living afterwards, until a brutal beating had brought that to an end. By the time she finished her cheeks were wet with tears.

Helena leaned forward and laid her hand on Patty’s. ‘You poor creature! I had no idea. What a life you have had! Brought up here as an orphan, half-starved in your first job, and then to have to resort to that … that terrible life to keep yourself alive. But you overcame all that! You worked yourself up to a position of responsibility and trust. I admire that! And then to lose it all because of the criminal machinations of that horrible man! I can’t begin to imagine all that you have suffered. But in spite of everything, you can still produce those delicious cakes that gave so much pleasure to those poor children. You still have your skills and there is nothing in what you have told me to be ashamed of.’

‘But …’ Patty murmured, ‘but I am ashamed – of what I let men do to me.’

‘The shame is theirs!’ Helena said firmly. ‘And society’s, that you were forced to stoop to that to keep body and soul together.’ She stood up. ‘Nothing of what you have told me makes me want to change my mind. If you will come and cook for me and for my future husband, we shall think ourselves fortunate.’ She smiled and held out her hand. ‘Do we have a deal?’

Patty rubbed her hand on her apron and swallowed. ‘Oh yes, ma’am. If you still want me, I’ll come and work for you, and be grateful for the chance.’

The house that Sir Basil had built for his bride was called Avalon. It stood at the end of a leafy lane on the slopes of Bidston Hill, a few miles outside the town of Birkenhead. It was built of red brick with a central section flanked by two wings surmounted by tall gables. It stood alone, the land around it, still raw and bare from recent clearing, sloping away towards the distant Mersey estuary. To Patty, it looked like something out of a fairy tale.

In the weeks between their interview with Helena Thornton and their first sight of the house she had felt she was living in a dream world. A dressmaker had arrived at the workhouse to take her measurements, and Vera’s, and a few days later boxes had been delivered containing, for each of them, two black dresses, one slightly finer and more elaborate than the other, two white aprons, one plain for working, the other trimmed with lace for special occasions, two mob caps similarly differentiated, a black woollen cape lined with crimson silk and stays and cotton chemises to go underneath. Patty was reminded of the uniform she had worn while working at Freeman’s, though these were better quality. She remembered, too, with a shudder, the yellow silk and the fur-lined cloak that had led her into so much trouble. She had no wish for such finery now. Vera’s reaction was rather different. Looking at herself when the dressmaker came for a final fitting, she had made a small grimace and commented that she had never thought to see herself in a servant’s dress.

That morning they had been collected in a hansom cab and driven down to the pier head where the ferry was waiting. Patty had never ventured across the Mersey and as the boat pulled out into mid-stream it felt as if she was going into foreign territory. On the far side a smart pony trap was waiting for them, driven by a lad who introduced himself as Barney. He had sandy hair and freckles and a smile so wide it seemed to split his face from ear to ear – and an accent that was pure Liverpool scouse. Patty stared around her as he drove them through Birkenhead; around a square lined with elegant houses, some of them not yet quite completed; up a long, straight road past an imposing gateway that opened into an area of wide lawns and flowerbeds rich with autumn colour.

‘What’s in there?’ she asked.

‘That’s the park,’ he replied.

‘Who’s it belong to?’

‘Us. Well, the town, but anyone can use it.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, honest! You should go and take a stroll round one day.’

Leaving the railings bordering the park behind they were out in the countryside. There were fields where cows and horses grazed. Patty knew what cows were because she had seen pictures outside the dairies in the city. She was less sure about smaller creatures covered in grey wool.

‘They’re sheep,’ Vera said, in surprise. ‘Surely you’ve seen sheep before?’

‘Not many sheep in Liverpool,’ Patty said.

Vera stretched her arms. ‘Oh, isn’t it wonderful to be out in the open air again. I’d almost forgotten how beautiful the countryside is at this time of year. Just look at that beech tree.’

‘What tree?’

‘Over there, with the leaves all golden in the sunlight.’ Vera turned her gaze on Patty with a kind of wonderment. ‘You don’t know the country at all, do you?’

‘Never been there,’ Patty said.

Vera leaned over and patted her hand. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll teach you the names of the trees and the birds – and the animals. I grew up in countryside like this. You’ll soon feel at home.’

Patty had grave doubts about that, but she said nothing. Now, standing outside the house that would be her home for the foreseeable future she felt even more out of her depth.

The front door opened and an elderly woman dressed in grey came down the steps to meet them. Her plump body gave the impression of struggling to break free of its restraining corset and her severely parted white hair framed a round, red-cheeked face. Her eyes were a faded blue, but they surveyed Vera and Patty with a sharp, critical gaze.

‘So, you are the two workhouse girls. Which is which?’

Beside her, Patty sensed Vera draw herself straighter. She spoke in the polished tones which she had sometimes tried to roughen in the company of the other women in the workhouse.

‘Good morning. My name is Vera Aston. How do you do?’

If the older woman was taken aback, she did not show it. ‘And you?’ she said, looking at Patty.

Under the gaze of those sharp eyes Patty could not muster the same confidence. Old habits of deference asserted themselves. ‘If you please, ma’am, I’m Patty Jenkins.’

‘Very good. I am Nanny Banks. I nursed Sir Basil as a child and now I am housekeeper here. You may call me Miss Banks. Come along, this way. I will show you around.’ She started up the steps and Patty and Vera followed. Over her shoulder Nanny Banks said, ‘The house is empty at the moment, as you know. Sir Basil and Lady Helena are still in Italy on their honeymoon. We have two weeks to get everything straight, ready for them to move in.’

She opened the imposing front door, which was set in a stone surround ending in a pointed arch and flanked by two stained glass windows, one of which depicted a knight in armour and the other a beautiful lady in a long, flowing gown. This led into a large hall, which stretched the full depth of the building. An arched ceiling supported by rafters towered above their heads and a broad staircase of polished wood led up to a galleried landing. Passages went off on either side, into the two wings. Miss Banks took the right hand one. Double doors, carved with patterns of fruit and flowers, opened onto a big room facing the back of the house. Large windows looked out to what would one day be, Patty supposed, a garden, and the other walls were papered in a design of twisting branches from which hung oranges and lemons. There was no furniture and a smell of new paint and wallpaper paste hung in the air.

‘This will be the dining room,’ Miss Banks informed them.

‘The wallpaper is … unusual,’ Vera ventured.

Miss Banks sniffed. ‘It’s some new-fangled idea of Sir Basil’s. All the designs are by a man called William Morris, or his friends. I can’t say I approve, but who am I to criticise?’

Two doors on the other side of the passage, facing the front of the house, were designated as the billiard room and the library. On the far side of the hall, corresponding to the dining room, was the drawing room, papered with a complex design of blue flowers and twining greenery. The rooms at the front on this side were to be the morning room and the music room. The morning room had paper in a cheerful design of birds against a golden trellis, but in the music room one whole wall was painted a glowing turquoise blue. Patty gazed around in fascination. She had never seen rooms so full of colour.

Upstairs there were five bedrooms and a modern bathroom and two WCs, and a suite of interconnected rooms designated optimistically as ‘the nursery’. On the top floor, under the sloping gable roofs, were the servants’ rooms. Women above the right hand wing, men above the left.

‘There’s only young Barney at the moment,’ Miss Banks announced, ‘but of course Mr Charles, Sir Basil’s man, will sleep there when they get back.’

Miss Banks had a bedroom and a sitting room, with a fireplace in which a fire had been lit although the September day was warm. Vera and Patty each had a room of their own, and there was another for Lady Helena’s personal maid, who would return with her mistress. These rooms were the only ones furnished at the present. Patty looked round hers. There was a bed, with a comfortable mattress and a bright patchwork coverlet; a rag rug on the floor; a washstand and a chest of drawers and a hanging rail in one corner. She had to bend to look out of the window, which was situated under the eaves, but when she did so she caught her breath. She could see across the garden and over the tops of the trees that hemmed it in, clear away to the roofs of Birkenhead and the broad estuary of the Mersey and beyond that the roofs and smoking chimneys of Liverpool. She had never known an outlook so vast and for a moment it gave her a feeling of vertigo, as if she might be drawn out of the window and into the void beyond.

There was no more time to contemplate it. Miss Banks was at the door.

‘Leave your things, and I’ll show you the kitchen. You’ll be wanting to get to work. The men will be wanting their dinner.’

The reference to ‘the men’ puzzled Patty. So far she had seen no one who fitted that description, with the possible exception of Barney, but she followed the housekeeper down the back stairs without question. The kitchen was in a semi-basement, but because the house was built on a sloping site it had large windows looking out onto a yard with outbuildings beyond. There was a big range, which was already alight, and a modern gas cooker. Copper pots and pans hung on the walls and a large deal table occupied the centre of the room.

‘You’ll be familiar with one of these contraptions, I suppose.’ Miss Banks indicted the cooker with an expression that suggested she regarded it with grave suspicion. Patty was happy to agree that she was, since Mr Freeman had had one installed in the department store’s kitchen.

On either side of the passageway leading to the kitchen there were two doors, one labelled ‘Housekeeper – Private’ and the other ‘Butler – Private’. Miss Banks nodded from one to the other.

‘My office – and Mr Charles will have the use of the other.’

Patty and Vera exchanged glances at the possessive note in the old woman’s voice.

Leading off the kitchen was a spacious larder and beyond that was the laundry and the boiler room. Here the mystery that had puzzled Patty was at least partly resolved. A big man with a weather-beaten face and hair greying at the temples straightened up from tending the boiler and nodded at Miss Banks with just enough respect to establish his own independent status.

‘It’s going fine now, ma’am. You’ll have plenty of hot water.’

‘Thank you.’ The housekeeper turned to Patty. ‘This is Jackson, gardener and handyman. He doesn’t live in but has a cottage on the estate. Mrs Jackson will come in to clean, with another woman from the village, but they aren’t here today. And Mrs Jackson’s daughter, Iris, will come as kitchen maid if you think she will suit. Mrs Jackson will bring her up to see you later on. Jackson, this is Miss Patty Jenkins, our new cook, and this—’ indicating Vera ‘—is Miss Aston, under-housekeeper.’

Jackson nodded in greeting. ‘Pleased to meet you, ladies.’

‘Now,’ Miss Banks turned back to the kitchen, ‘you’d better make a start. Jackson’s son, Danny, helps out and they will eat their dinner with us. So there will be the three of us, plus them and Barney. Dinner at twelve-thirty prompt. You’ll find provisions in the larder. I ordered what I thought suitable for today but of course you will want to order whatever else you require when the grocer’s boy calls in tomorrow.’ She looked around the kitchen and then at Patty. ‘Is that all clear? Good. I’ll let you get on, then.’ She turned to Vera. ‘Come into my office and we will discuss your duties.’

Patty noticed that the tour of the house had left the old woman breathless and wheezing. She caught Vera’s eye and saw that the same thought was in both their minds. Miss Banks might be keen to establish her status as housekeeper, but it was clear who was going to do most of the work.

Patty looked at the big clock on the wall. Eleven o’clock. She had an hour and a half to produce dinner for six people. For the first time she fully understood the challenges posed by her new job. She had been used to working in a variety of kitchens, from the fine food produced at Speke Hall through to the large scale catering involved in feeding the staff at Freeman’s and the meagre and unvarying diet of the workhouse. But she had never been in total charge, except in her own limited realm of the tea shop. Now she had not only to devise menus to satisfy her fellow staff members but soon to cater for the more rarefied tastes of her new employers, whatever they might be. Tomorrow the grocer’s boy would call and she would have to work out what to order for the days ahead. She had never had so much responsibility and it was a daunting prospect.

She took a deep breath and forced her mind back to the task at hand. She looked in the larder and saw to her relief that Miss Banks had ordered a large ham. There were potatoes in a sack and onions hanging from a hook and a dozen eggs and a basket of apples. She rolled up her sleeves and set to work. At twelve-thirty the six of them sat down to onion soup, ham, eggs and fried potatoes and apple crumble with custard.

When he had finished eating, Jackson pushed back his chair and gave an appreciative sigh.

‘By ’eck, Miss Patty, those are the best ham and eggs I’ve eaten since Mr Vyner forced old Pendleton to close the Ring o’Bells. Famous, he was, for his ham and eggs. Folks used to come from miles around just to try them.’

‘Who is Mr Vyner?’ Vera asked.

‘Lord of the Manor. I daresay you’ll come across him before long. Sir Basil will want to entertain him, I expect.’

‘And the Ring o’Bells was the local inn, I suppose. Why did it have to close?’

‘Ah, well now. The story was it was used by smugglers. I don’t know how true that was.’

‘Smugglers?’ Vera’s eyes sparkled. ‘How exciting!’

Miss Banks’s face made her disapproval clear. ‘I see nothing exciting about breaking the law.’

Vera caught Patty’s eye and then lowered her gaze demurely. ‘No, sorry.’

The following days were filled with a bustle of activity, as the house was prepared for the arrival of the master and mistress. There was paintwork to be washed and floors to be swept and polished and windows to be cleaned. Then furniture started to arrive. There were Persian rugs to be laid and curtains in complex floral designs to complement the wallpapers to be hung. Easy chairs and a chaise longue were placed in the drawing room, and in the dining room there was a table in a beautiful wood, which Patty was told was walnut, and chairs with ebony rungs and cane seats, together with a dresser inlaid with an elaborate design in different coloured wood. A grand piano was manoeuvred into the music room and a billiard table into the room on the opposite side of the house, and a huge four-poster bed with embroidered drapes was installed in the master bedroom. More and more, to Patty’s eyes, the house began to resemble something out of a fairy tale.

After that, the household goods began to arrive. There were crates of china and glass, boxes of books, canteens of silver cutlery. All had to be unpacked, washed or polished and set in the proper places.

As they emptied yet another crate of fine glassware Patty looked at Vera.

‘They can’t need all these, can they? I don’t even know what half of them are for.’

‘Nor do I,’ her friend confessed. ‘But it seems they are necessary – at least, that’s what Sir Basil and Lady Helena believe.’

‘I reckon the cost of this one crate would keep a poor family for a month,’ Patty said.

‘Longer than that,’ Vera agreed. ‘It doesn’t seem right, does it?’

‘I suppose that’s just the way things are meant to be,’ Patty said with a sigh. ‘You know, like it says in the hymn, “The rich man is his castle, the poor man at his gate”.’

‘Hmpph!’ Vera responded. ‘That may be what the rich people like to believe. I’m not sure it’s what God intended.’

Patty often had to leave the unpacking to Vera and Mabel Jackson and her friend Doris, who came in from the village to help out, so that she could head for the kitchen to prepare food for the regular staff plus the various workmen who came and went. She spent anxious hours chewing her pencil and trying to work out what she needed to order from the grocer and the baker and the butcher when their errand boys came to call. Here she discovered an ally. If she found she had forgotten something vital, Barney was always ready to put the pony into the shafts of the trap and go into Birkenhead to buy what she needed. Iris Jackson was a help, too. She was a big-boned girl, taking after her father, and inclined to be clumsy, but she had a cheerful nature and took everything in her stride. Patty found her easy-going attitude a useful counterbalance to her own nervousness. It was hard work, but somehow there was always food on the table when it was required.

At the end of the two weeks the house was ready to receive the master and mistress on their return from their honeymoon. Barney harnessed the horses to the carriage and set off to meet them, and the Vera and Patty and Miss Banks put on their best dresses and their lace-trimmed aprons and caps ready to receive them.