‘Sarah, are you going out for your day off?’ Betty asked as she pushed another chestnut into the coals to roast.
‘I’m going to see my ma. I can’t wait, but it’s that bitter I reckon I’ll be tempted to stay put, curl up on my bed and read a book. There’s plenty to choose from in the nursery. Madam likes me to read to the children every night before they go to sleep.’ She looked around the room. Even with two narrow beds, a chest of drawers and a commode, there was plenty of space for both of them; they even had a closet to hang up their garments. They were allowed to have a fire in the evening when they finished work as long as they carried up the coal and removed the ashes in their own time.
‘It’s ever so comfortable up here, better than the room I shared with my brothers at home. We never had a fire, couldn’t afford it.’
The sound of splitting chestnut skins and their sweet smell made her mouth water. She’d bought a bag of uncooked nuts from a street trader when she’d been out on an errand for Nanny Brown. The housekeeper had given her a shilling in advance of her wages, told her that she was a good girl and a hard worker. Madam wanted her to have a few pennies in her pocket on her day off.
She loved it here. The children were little dears; Nanny was a stickler for routine but fair with it. If it wasn’t for the under nurse she’d believe she’d landed on her feet.
‘Did I tell you, Betty, what that evil woman did to me today?’ She blew on her fingers. ‘These nuts are too hot to peel. Let’s leave them to cool down a bit.’
‘Go on then, tell us.’
Just the thought made Sarah’s blood boil. ‘I cleaned up the fireplaces a treat, not a speck of soot or ash anywhere, had the bucket in my hand, when she took it from me and tipped it on the floor.’
‘Blooming hell! The nasty bitch – I’d have lamped her one and lost me position because of it.’
‘That’s why she did it; she’s hoping I’ll lose my temper and get dismissed. I bit my tongue and curtsied, but never said a word. She stomped off in a rare old dudgeon, I can tell you.’
‘Everyone knows how horrible she is – it ain’t fair. Someone ought to tell Nanny what’s what.’
‘Don’t you dare. She’ll get caught at it one day, and she’ll be the one to leave, not me. I’m keeping my head down and getting on with my job like I was told when I started.’
Later she lay listening to the gentle snores from the other bed and her eyes filled. Every night it was the same. She could keep cheerful during the day – when she was busy it was easy. It was when it was dark the misery of her situation overwhelmed her. She knew she had a good position here, better than she could have hoped for, but nothing made up for the fact that her little brother had died, Alfie had run off and she’d not seen her Ma since September. She missed her so dreadfully.
The numbing grief she’d felt the day Tommy had died had gone. She could think of him without crying now. Tomorrow she’d definitely go back, make sure her ma was coping, give her the money she’d put by.
It was only a couple of weeks ’til Christmas. She couldn’t bear to think of the approaching festivities without knowing Ma was safe. She rubbed her eyes dry on the sheet. Whatever the weather, she’d return to her old home tomorrow. She was lucky to get a whole day off when everyone was so busy. She smiled in the darkness. For the first time since she’d arrived at Grey Friars she was happy.
She turned over with a sigh. Nothing could ever be the same – she knew that really. And anyway, she wasn’t going to give up her place; she was settled here but would be ever so much happier knowing she could spend her afternoons off in the cottage she’d grown up in. She barely recalled her real pa. He’d died at sea when she and Alfie were tiny. Jack Rand had taken them both on, had been a good husband and provider until he took to drinking and bad company.
But she still wasn’t sure about him – he’d hit her, and that wasn’t right. She’d have to see how she felt about him when she saw him again. It was most likely the drink that did it – it made men do horrible things. If he’d given it up then maybe she’d be ready to forgive him.
She was asleep soon afterwards and for once her dreams were happier. She woke the next morning full of expectations. She was fortunate working in a house where staff were treated so well. Most of the nursemaids she’d met so far never got a whole day – some were lucky to get an hour once a month.
Initially she turned over, snuggling down in bed, glad that today, for the first time since she’d started work at Grey Friars, she didn’t have to get up with the lark. Betty had dressed by the remains of last night’s fire and slipped out quietly to start her day.
It was no good. She was awake now and might as well get up. It was a little after six o’clock and still pitch-dark outside. She used the commode, washed herself in the cold water and dressed in her own clothes, now clean and pressed. Having not had a day off before she wasn’t quite sure if she was allowed to eat in the servants’ hall, or if she should go, as usual, to the nursery for her meals. If it meant having to speak to Emma, she’d rather go hungry. Ma would have something to give her or she could buy a bun on the way.
She tidied the bedroom, raked out the fire, put the ashes in the bucket, collected her cloak and was ready to go down. She looked at the commode; she’d do that as well, save Betty coming back. Her cloak went back in the closet and she removed her outdoor boots, replacing them with her indoor shoes. It was far too early to venture into the town. She could change later.
Taking the narrow spiral staircase carrying the ash bucket, and half-full chamber pot, was tricky but all the maids soon learnt to loop their skirts over an arm before they attempted the journey. Someone had already lit the wall sconces and the flickering candlelight was more than enough for her to see her way.
She tipped the pot into the downstairs water closet and rinsed it out, propping it to drain with the two others already there. The ashes needed to go outside and she didn’t have her boots on. It was forbidden to tramp about in the dirt in indoor shoes. Holding the pail, she poked her head into the scullery.
‘Betty, what should I do with these?’
Her friend looked up from her task with a grin. ‘Leave them by the door; I’ll have to take the rest out later. Have you looked outside? It’s freezing – I reckon it’ll snow today.’
‘I’m still going out. A bit of bad weather won’t harm me.’ Sarah put her pail by the door and turned. ‘Do I get breakfast on my day off?’
‘Yes, ’course you do. Nip along early like and Cook will serve you first.’ Betty finished washing up the delicate porcelain coffee cups and saucers left over from last night. ‘I can’t stop, I’ve the fires to do before the tea trays and it’s already six o’clock.’
Sarah made her way to the large kitchen and went in. It was quiet. Jane, the kitchen maid, was there preparing the dough for the morning rolls.
The girl smiled a greeting. ‘Your day off? What you get up so early for?’
‘I couldn’t sleep. I’m so used to being up I thought I might as well get dressed and see if there was anything I could do to help before I go out later.’
‘Can you make bread? I forgot to collect the eggs last night and they’ll be needed for breakfast. I’ll be in for it if Cook finds out.’
‘Of course I can. Lend me your apron. I’ll finish this; I’ve just washed my hands. You go and get them – no one will be any the wiser.’
‘Ta, ever so. I’ll not be long.’
Sarah heard Jane putting on her clogs and cloak and then the back door opened. Two minutes later she heard a scream, a clatter and then the sound of someone moaning in pain. Dropping the dough back on the table she wiped her hands on her borrowed apron and ran to the back door.
The scullery led onto a small paved area through which servants could reach the kitchen garden where the henhouse was situated. Sarah had taken the children through to feed the chickens only the other day and knew exactly where to go. Not stopping to change her shoes she ran outside almost losing her balance on the icy surface.
‘Jane, stay still. I’m coming to help you,’ she called out. The moaning continued, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Why didn’t she answer? She arrived at the scene of the accident at the same time as one of the grooms who was crouched down over the crumpled form of the scullery maid. Now she knew why Jane was making such a racket. She’d had her eye on this young man, according to Betty, since the summer when he joined the outside staff.
‘Jane, let Johnny carry you inside. I’ll collect the eggs. You’ll catch your death lying on the ground like that.’
The girl stopped moaning and raised a feeble hand. ‘It’s my ankle, Sarah. I reckon I’ve broke it.’
‘Here put your arms around me neck. Hang on, I’ll take you in. Cook can have a look. She’s clever with sprains and such.’
The girl did as she was bid, sighing loudly before resting her face against his homespun jacket. As the groom staggered past, Jane winked at Sarah before resuming her pose of injured young lady in need of rescuing by handsome young man. Sarah was smiling as she collected the eggs; Jane was only a bit older than her and already looking out for a husband. Falling flat on your backside was one way of going about it, but not one she’d choose.
When she got back to the kitchen with a dozen eggs in the basket Jane had dropped there was no sign of the girl. She heard the patter of footsteps. It sounded like the housekeeper who was much lighter on her feet than Cook.
‘Good girl – Jane tells me you were helping her with the bread, Sarah. Would you consider working in the kitchen today? I shall arrange for you to have a day off later. Madam’s having visitors for tea, and Cook can’t manage on her own.’
Sarah hid her disappointment. ‘I’d be pleased to, ma’am. I used to make bread, and rock cakes and scones at home. I’d be happy to help out. It’ll make a nice change being down here where everything happens.’
‘Run upstairs and change into your uniform, then come back down and finish making the bread. Cook is seeing to Jane’s ankle. It’s not broken fortunately, but a nasty sprain. Still, she can do a lot of her work sitting on a stool, but not for a day or two.’
She was back downstairs making rock cakes for nursery tea when Betty came in, her cap askew as usual, her face flushed and liberally streaked with ash. ‘What a turn-up! Fancy you being in here all day instead of taking it easy.’
Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘I was looking forward to seeing Ma. Still, can’t be helped. I couldn’t say no – it would have looked bad.’
‘Jane says thank you, and if you get a moment later on could you pop up and see her?’
Before Sarah could answer, Cook bustled back in and shooed Betty off about her duties. ‘Now then, Mrs Hall tells me you’ve made the bread for breakfast and are making cakes for the nursery. Let me see, rock cakes are they?’
‘Yes, Cook. It’s Friday, and we always have rock cakes for tea. I hope it was right to start making them without asking your permission first?’
‘Bless you, lovey, you get on with it. My Jane’s a dear girl, but a cook she is not. I let her knead the dough, but anything else, I have to do. Now, the bread smells good. When did it go in the oven?’
Breakfast was served to the senior staff before the family had theirs. Juniors had to wait until after they’d eaten upstairs, Sarah discovered. She was used to eating last. Emma made her supervise the children’s meal, clear it away and then fetch a tray for herself and Nanny before she got a sniff of anything to eat.
‘Sarah, love, Mrs Hall says you’re to eat now. You deserve it for giving up your day off.’
Her heart lurched in horror. She’d rather go hungry than sit at the table with the seniors. ‘I’m all right, ma’am, I’m happy to wait.’
‘No, pull up a chair right now, young lady, and no arguments.’
‘I don’t have to go in there to eat?’
‘Good heavens! Whatever next! No, lovey, you’ll eat in the kitchen. What would you like? There’s bacon, eggs, kippers or porridge.’
She didn’t care what she had, as long as it was hot and she had time to eat it before being sent on another errand as happened every day in the nursery. She was halfway through her meal when Emma came in to collect the nursery tray. Sarah froze, a forkful of food poised in mid-air. Now she’d done it. She’d never hear the last of it – her life was going to be even worse from now on, she just knew it. The look she got from the under nurse was filled with hate, and she shrunk back into her chair, her appetite gone, her pleasure in the day ruined.
‘Lost your appetite, Sarah love?’ Mrs Potter enquired kindly.
‘No, it was that Emma glaring at me; it put me off my food. Now she’s gone, I’ll soon finish this and be ready to help you. Thank you for asking.’
‘Don’t take no notice of that sourpuss, my dear. It’s only a matter of time before the mistress finds out what’s been going on and the girl will get her marching orders. You mark my words.’
‘I’m not telling tales. Mrs Hall made it quite clear when I came that nobody liked a tittle-tattle. I didn’t think anyone noticed what went on in the nursery.’ Finishing the last morsel of fried bacon she stood up and prepared to take her plate and cutlery into the scullery.
‘It’s been going on since she came, two years ago now. She was recommended by a friend of the family and thinks herself above criticism. The last nursemaid left without a reference, she was that miserable up there.’ Cook turned back to the range to check the bacon wasn’t catching in the pan, before continuing. ‘But you’re a different sort of girl. You don’t let it get you down. Carry on working hard; Emma Smith will get her comeuppance one day, and it can’t come soon enough as far as I’m concerned.’
Sarah almost skipped into the scullery. She didn’t feel so alone. If the housekeeper and Cook were on her side, it was only a matter of time before the mistress heard about the bullying and dismissed the under nurse.
She fell into bed at ten o’clock, exhausted but happy with the way the day had gone. She told Betty what she’d learnt but her friend wasn’t as pleased for her as she’d expected.
‘It ain’t going to be that simple, Sarah. That one’s cunning or she’d have been caught out before now. The mistress thinks the sun shines out her arse. I reckon she’d have to see Emma do something with her own eyes before she’d believe it. Fat chance of that happening – she’s too sly.’
‘I don’t care. Just knowing everyone hates her makes me feel a lot better. I’m not stupid, you know. I’m prepared to bide my time, but I’ll get her to do something dreadful in front of the mistress one day – I promise you that.’
It took her longer to fall asleep than usual. Her head was filled with images of the under nurse and the evil look she’d given her when she had been sitting in the kitchen enjoying a comfortable chat with Mrs Potter. This was a good position. She liked it here and wasn’t going to let anyone drive her away.
* * *
Christmas came and went. The family didn’t entertain, which made things a lot easier for the staff. They got their Christmas box, and Sarah was overwhelmed to receive a sovereign and a dress length in her parcel. She was so lucky to be working for such a generous employer and had even managed to avoid any serious confrontations with Emma these last two weeks. The money would go straight to Ma when she eventually saw her. She thought more about Alfie nowadays. He’d always been a good friend and she missed him something cruel.
It had been so busy in the nursery, what with the new games and such for the children, which had to be played with. There had been a deal of sewing and mending to do ready for the family’s annual visit to Mrs Bawtree’s parents who lived somewhere in Suffolk. Her ma was a real lady, married to a Sir John Bertram.
A few days before their departure she was curled up in bed sharing a few precious moments with her best friend prior to blowing out the candle.
‘Betty, when the family go away, what do we do?’
‘You go with them, you ninny. Wherever the children go, so do the nursery staff. I know Mrs Potter told us they’re going away, but the weather’s that bad again I don’t reckon they’ll go.’
‘It was still snowing when I last looked out. There must be two feet of the horrible stuff already lying about. If I have to make any more snowmen this week I reckon my hands will fall off with the cold.’
‘It’s your afternoon off the day after tomorrow, ain’t it? If that silly cow, Jane, don’t sprain her ankle again, might you go and visit your ma?’
‘Yes, I’m going out even in all this snow. I’ve not seen her since I got here. I reckon she’ll hardly recognise me. Now I’ve got my monthlies I’ve filled right out in the front. I’ll get started on my dress. Mrs Hall says she’ll cut it out for me and I’ve got my own needles and stuff.’
Betty yawned loudly in the darkness. ‘We’re lucky here. Do you know most new girls, when they go into service, have to buy their dresses, caps and cuffs? It gets taken out of their first year’s wages.’
‘I didn’t know that. I’m going to put a bit of my wages in Mr Bawtree’s bank; it’s a lovely feeling having something put by for a rainy day.’
‘You’re right to hang onto it, my girl. If ever you lose your position, you’ll need more than a pound if you want to stay out of the workhouse.’
On that cheerful note her friend turned over and went to sleep. Why was it that even Betty seemed to think it would be her that was sacked and not that evil bitch Emma Smith?