‘There you are, girl. Nanny wants you to fetch her up a fresh tray of tea. It took you so long to bring up the last one, it was cold. Don’t stand there gawping at me, stupid girl; get on with it,’ Emma said with a sneer.
The kitchen was deserted, but the sound of Betty and Jane chattering in the scullery as they washed the dishes lightened her mood. She needed cheering up. For all his faults, there had been a time when she was younger when Pa had been good to her and she had even begun to miss him too.
‘Betty, I’m to make a fresh pot of tea for Nanny. Guess who says it was cold? Do I have to knock on Mrs Hall’s door and ask for the key to the caddy?’
Her friend appeared, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘I reckon there’s enough in the kitchen caddy. You don’t want to be disturbing her. She’ll want to know why the first lot wasn’t good enough. Don’t give that bitch the satisfaction of getting you torn off a strip.’
The kettle was still hot and Betty pushed it back over the flames. Jane came out to join them.
‘Quick, let me rinse the cup and get fresh milk for you. Are you coming back down when you’re done?’
‘I hope to, but Smith will probably find me something else to do. I’ve not sat down all day. I’m looking forward to my afternoon off tomorrow, I can tell you.’
Ten minutes later she was knocking on Nanny’s parlour door, the tray balanced on one arm whilst she did so. She didn’t wait for a reply. Nanny was a bit deaf and preferred her visitors to come in, not stand outside hammering on the door to remind all and sundry of her affliction.
‘Good heavens, Sarah, what’s all this?’
Her heart sunk. Emma had done it again. ‘I beg your pardon, Nanny, I must have misunderstood. I thought I was to bring you more tea.’
‘No, my dear, the last tray was sufficient. I hope you didn’t have to disturb Mrs Hall to get this.’
Nanny was a dear. She knew exactly what had happened. ‘I didn’t, thank you, Nanny. Shall I leave it, or take it back?’
‘Take it downstairs and share it with your friends. You’ve done more than enough today. I thought you had finished hours ago. Goodnight, my dear.’
In the kitchen Betty and Jane were hanging up the washcloths. ‘I thought as much. She didn’t want it then?’
‘No, Betty, she didn’t. But she says we’re to drink it and to eat the biscuits too. I could do with a cup, I’m that tired.’
They all had an early start the next morning, so as soon as the tea was finished Jane and Betty washed the cups and saucers, telling her to stay where she was. Then taking a candlestick she followed her friends to bed. The sound of laughter coming from the servants’ hall reminded her of what she’d lost. At least she was safe, but what about Alfie? She prayed his barge would sail back to The Hythe soon so she’d have someone of her own close by.
Her eyes filled as she thought of the last time she’d seen her brother. And since then he had turned thirteen the same week that she’d become fourteen, last October. He was quite capable of helping support his family. He was a man now, as she was a woman.
The next morning the snow had all but melted and Nanny informed Sarah that the long-postponed visit to Suffolk was to take place the following week.
‘It will be a big responsibility for you, my dear, as Emma is not coming with us. She has been given leave of absence to visit her mother on her sickbed. You shall be my under nurse for the visit.’
The fact that the bane of her existence was not to accompany them was even better news than hearing of the trip itself. It would be lovely not to have to endure the daily sly pinches, shoves and hair pulls. On several occasions she had almost lost her temper and retaliated – this would have meant instant dismissal, which Emma knew very well.
‘I’m sorry to hear that Emma’s mother’s unwell, but I can do her tasks as well as my own. I’ll not let you down, I promise.’
‘Bless you, child, you won’t have to do everything. Lady Bertram is going to supply us with a girl. She will take on your duties.’
‘Thank you; is there anything else you would like me to do before I go?’
‘No, run along. You have time off this afternoon, don’t you? Are you going to visit your mother?’
‘I am, Nanny. I meant to go before Christmas. I’m hoping there’ll be news of my brother Alfie. It’s months since he went away.’
Sarah couldn’t leave until she’d cleared the nursery, sorted out the dirty linen for the laundry maid to collect, and dressed the children ready for their afternoon walk in the garden, which Emma was going to have to supervise this time. The sun was out and the cobbles were shiny with melted snow. The road sweepers had been out and the pavements were almost dry. She kept her hood pulled up to keep out the cold.
In the months she had lived at Grey Friars House she’d only once ventured up the High Street and not had the opportunity to visit East Stockwell Street. Sarah turned into the cut that led to the rear of her previous dwelling. Strangely she no longer thought of the cottage as her home. Grey Friars House was where she lived and where she intended to stay. When she’d saved enough to set herself up in her own business, or could get promotion and be in charge of a nursery, would be soon enough to leave.
She laughed out loud, startling a group of urchins kicking a stone around. It would be many years before she was in a position to do that, but like Mrs Hall said, it didn’t hurt to have dreams and work towards them.
The gate creaked as it always did and she was careful not to pull it off its hinges; she glanced over at Mrs Sainty’s kitchen window and saw her standing, gazing out. She smiled and waved, before pushing open her parents’ kitchen door.
An old lady was sitting by the range. ‘Come along in, girly. I’m always pleased to have a visitor.’
Puzzled, Sarah closed the door behind her. ‘Is my ma in?’
The stranger beamed, exposing her toothless gums. ‘She’s taken the little ’uns for a walk. She’ll be back soon.’
Someone was at the back door. Sarah turned, her heart racing. Ma was back. But the door didn’t open. Instead Mrs Sainty called out to her.
‘Sarah, lovie, come out here. I’ve got to talk to you. You shouldn’t be in there.’
What now? Sarah faced her old neighbour. ‘Mrs Sainty, whatever’s wrong?’ Her friend grabbed her arm and Sarah was back outside, the back door firmly closed behind her.
‘That ain’t your house now. That’s old Mrs Black. She lives with her son and daughter-in-law and her four grandchildren. Your ma left right after the funeral. She and that Jack Rand have gone to London. She gave me something for you and Alfie. Come along in and I’ll tell you what happened.’
Too shocked to protest Sarah found herself in Mrs Sainty’s kitchen. The room looked exactly the same; thankfully Alfie’s mates weren’t there to witness her distress. Removing her cloak gave her something to do, stopped her thinking; she draped it over the back of a chair and, using the back for support, she edged her way round until she could sink onto it.
‘There you are. Now, I’ll get you a nice cup of tea with plenty of sugar in it. If I’d known you were coming I’d have been in the yard waiting for you.’ Mrs Sainty handed her a chipped mug and a scone, split open and dripping with butter. She ignored it.
‘Tell me – I can hardly credit what you said. Ma gone?’
‘Straight after Tommy was buried. The cart arrived and all their belongings were piled into it. Mary scarcely had time to say goodbye to me. But she did leave something. I’ll fetch it for you.’
Sarah watched her go to the dresser. She pushed aside some chipped plates and pulled out a small brown paper parcel.
‘I ain’t looked inside. Mary said to give it to you. You’ll know which is yours and which for Alfie.’
It was hard to undo the string; her fingers refused to obey her. Eventually the final knot was undone and she unfolded the paper. The first thing she saw was her real pa’s gold pocket watch. That must be for her brother. It was wrapped in six beautifully embroidered handkerchiefs. These must be hers. She picked one up and something clinked beneath it. There were two golden guineas tucked inside. She recalled when she had last seen these and tears rolled down her cheeks.
She’d never see her ma again. All she had to remind her were these six handkerchiefs and two gold coins. She sniffed. She mustn’t use one of her gifts to blow her nose; she’d have to find her rag. Using her sleeve was no longer an acceptable option. Mrs Sainty busied herself about the room until she was composed. After carefully wrapping her money and Alfie’s gold watch in the handkerchiefs, she refolded the wrapping. After several attempts she gave up trying to use the string. She was all thumbs; the parcel would have to do as it was.
‘How was my ma? Was she well enough to travel? I can’t bear to think what she must have been feeling, what with Tommy, and then Alfie and me leaving so suddenly as well.’
‘She weren’t too bad; in fact she seemed quite perky. She said she was starting a new life, leaving all the sadness behind.’
Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat. All this time she’d been worrying herself sick and Ma had skipped off without a care in the world. She was well and truly on her own now – not even her beloved brother for support. She took a gulp of tea.
‘Thank you, Mrs Sainty, for keeping these things safe for me. Can I ask you to do me one more favour? When Alfie comes back, will you tell him where I am?’
‘I will. He’s a good lad. He’ll come back one day with his pockets full of cash – you mark my words. That boy’s going places. He’ll do well for himself by and by.’
She’d not go back to that part of town again. She had to get on with her new life; the money she’d brought round to help out could go in a savings account. Mrs Hall said the master would pay it into his own bank for them. All she had to do was give the money to the housekeeper and she would be given a book with the amount recorded in it.
She met Betty, carrying down a half-full bucket of ashes, as she flew upstairs to change into her uniform. ‘I’ve a deal to tell you. You won’t believe it. I can’t stop now. I’ll be in trouble if I’m late.’
‘Friday-face is in a right mood. You watch yourself this evening, Sarah.’
‘Nothing’s changed then.’ She glanced at the bucket. ‘I thought the fires had to be done first thing. Where did this come from?’
‘Can’t you guess? Smith insisted you hadn’t cleaned the nursery fires out properly and demanded that someone come up and do it right away. Of course, she had to say it in front of Mrs Hall, didn’t she?’
‘Now I’m in for it. I bet I get a ticking-off when I get down to the nursery.’
‘Don’t take any notice. You’ll be off tomorrow and not have to see her horrible face for two whole weeks.’
That happy thought kept her going throughout a miserable evening. She was forced to miss her supper as Emma insisted she repack the children’s trunks. When she eventually completed her task, Nanny came in to fasten them.
‘There, child, there’s only one more thing I need you to do. I asked Emma, but she’s apparently forgotten. We always take candles with us. They don’t have gas lighting like we do here, and there are never enough supplied by the housekeeper. Madam likes us to take our own, rather than keep asking and having Mrs Peterson clicking her tongue.’ She delved into her pocket. ‘Here, you’ll need the key. The cupboard is always kept locked.’
Downstairs was deserted. Everyone must be in the servants’ hall, their duties done for the day. Only Mrs Hall and Mrs Potter would be in the housekeeper’s room sipping sherry and discussing tomorrow’s move. She had been given detailed directions where to find the storeroom in which the candles were kept. She’d never been down into the basement before – it was where the wine cellar was and no juniors were allowed, unless given specific permission.
There was a row of tin candlesticks on the shelf at the head of the stairs and a tinderbox. The gas light hadn’t been installed so it was black as night and she felt her skin prickle as if someone was watching her. She didn’t like the dark, hadn’t realised she’d have to go down on her own, had hoped she could persuade Betty, or one of the parlourmaids, to accompany her.
She’d already been in trouble for being tardy, so she’d better get on with it. It wouldn’t do for anyone to discover she was scared of the dark. Lifting her skirts in one hand, taking a candlestick firmly in the other, she ran down the stairs. The sooner she completed this unpleasant errand the better.
She held her candle up so she could see the passageway in the flickering light; the storeroom door would be third on her left. She found it without difficulty. Placing her candle on the flags she carefully fitted the key into the lock. It turned easily and she pulled it open, and held up her candlestick to peer in. Yes, lying in neat pyramids at the back were the candles she’d been sent to fetch; she hadn’t realised how big the cupboard would be. She was going to have to go right in.
She took a hesitant step. Her candle was knocked from her hand and something hard hit her in the back, sending her stumbling forward into the darkness. The door slammed shut behind her and the key grated in the lock. A suffocating weight of blackness enveloped her. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Dropping to her knees she curled up in a ball, burying her head in her apron, praying that someone would miss her. She didn’t have the courage to move from where she’d fallen.
She crouched, shivering with terror, on the floor of the cupboard. She tried to close out the darkness by blocking her ears, something she’d done as a little girl. Her newly found confidence, the maturity she’d gained from doing a responsible job under difficult circumstances, evaporated. Faced with the one thing she couldn’t cope with, being shut into a small dark space, she wanted to scream, cry, wanted her ma to come and fetch her.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been in a miserable huddle on the floor, but she knew she was cold. Her knees had gone numb and her bladder was full to bursting. From somewhere she found the strength to sit up. The thought of disgracing herself in the cupboard was so awful she had to pull herself together and find the door.
She’d prayed for assistance; maybe the good Lord had seen fit to help her in this way. She screwed her eyes shut, then opened them again hoping there might be a glimmer of light, that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but there was nothing. She’d no idea where the door was, didn’t know which way she was facing. The only thing she could do was inch her way forward with outstretched hands until she touched something and then follow it round. When she found the shelves of candles she’d know where she was and could then turn and walk forward. She’d find the door easily enough like that.
She took tiny steps, her breath shallow, perspiration trickling between her shoulder blades. Eventually her fingers touched a wall. She ran her hands up and down. Yes, this was definitely a wall. Whether it was the one with the door in it, or one of those on the side, she didn’t know.
She turned sideways, resting her shoulder, and resumed her slow progress forwards. Her fingertips touched a corner, then another wall. She edged round and moved again, almost immediately coming to the door, the latch pressed painfully into her side. She lifted it and pushed. It didn’t budge.
She pushed again – nothing. She stepped back and threw her whole weight at the door; it creaked but remained firmly shut. It was only then she recalled the distinctive click of someone turning the key in the lock. She hadn’t shut herself in; she’d been locked in, and whoever it was had gone away and left her on her own.
Defeated, she leant her face against the door, knowing that it had been after ten o’clock when Nanny Brown had sent her to fetch the candles. Everyone, even Mrs Hall, would have finished for the night and gone to their beds. There was no point in shouting and banging. No one would hear her in the basement, and the walls were so solid it would be impossible to kick her way out.
She had to relieve herself. If she did it in here she’d never live down the shame, however justified she’d been. She pressed her legs together and tried to concentrate on something else, on happier times with her family together and before little Tommy… No, that made it worse. He was deep in the ground, and being in the dark just made her think of him and her eyes smarted; he must be so lonely under the earth.
She had been told at Sunday school that only the flesh remained on earth to decay – the spirit soared to heaven to live with the Almighty. It all seemed as unlikely to her as fairies at the bottom of the garden. If you were supposed to understand it, it wouldn’t be called a mystery, now would it?
Turning her back to the door she slid down, carefully smoothing her dress under her bottom, and pulled in her knees. She hugged them, not in terror. Strangely she’d become accustomed to the dark and no longer found it as threatening. It was that Emma who was responsible; she must have known Nanny would send her down to fetch the candles when she didn’t do it herself. The bitch had waited until she was inside the store cupboard and locked her in. Thank God she had never mentioned to anyone, not even Betty, that she was scared of the dark.
She hadn’t been sitting long when she was sure she heard voices in the passageway. She couldn’t quite make out who they were, but someone had come to rescue her. Scrambling to her feet she rattled the door and called out. The voices got nearer. She knew one of them was Betty.
‘Betty, I’m in here. Someone has locked the door.’ She was unsure if they could hear her voice through the crack and was about to shout again when Betty answered.
‘We can’t open the door. The key ain’t in the lock, Sarah, but Jane has gone to fetch Mrs Hall. She’s bound to have a spare.’
Now release was imminent Sarah’s need to find a commode became desperate. ‘Betty, I need the privy; if I’m not let out in the next two minutes I’ll have to go on the floor.’ She heard Betty laughing and suddenly the whole thing seemed less of a problem, not something to worry about.
‘Keep your legs crossed, Sarah. I can hear Mrs Hall coming. You’ll be out in a minute.’
The housekeeper was soon fiddling with the lock. Sarah thought she would explode. The key turned and she fell against the door. She couldn’t stop to thank her rescuers. Gathering up her skirts she shot past them, up the stairs and into the newfangled water closet. When she emerged it was to find the housekeeper waiting outside.
‘Come along, Sarah, you’re chilled to the bone, my dear. I’ve sent Jane to the kitchen to make you a cup of tea. Betty has run upstairs to fetch you a shawl.’
She was surprised the housekeeper hadn’t asked how she came to be locked in a cupboard, but was more than happy to follow to the private apartment. She’d only seen this room twice before: once the day she started work and once to receive her Christmas box.
The fire had been revived. Mrs Hall ushered her to the comfortable armchair nearest to it. ‘Sit there, my dear. Your lips are quite blue.’
Gratefully Sarah stretched out her hands to the blaze. ‘I’m sorry to be so much trouble, ma’am.’
‘It wasn’t your doing, my dear. The culprit will be dealt with in the morning.’ She paused, and attempted to push a strand of hair under her cap. It was only then she noticed Mrs Hall wasn’t correctly dressed, the white frill of her nightgown clearly visible under her bombazine. Her cap was concealing uncoiled hair and she had bedroom slippers on her feet instead of shoes. Horrified that she had caused Mrs Hall to drag herself from bed she began a mumbled apology again.
‘This disturbance is my fault. I should have been more careful, made sure somebody came down to the basement with me, then none of this would have happened.’
‘Enough. You were doing your duty as you always do. I’ll have no more said about it.’ She smiled, taking years from her face and Sarah saw for the first time the housekeeper was not quite as fierce as she’d imagined.
The rattle of crockery prevented her reply. Jane appeared, Betty at her heels, and soon the three girls, and the housekeeper, were happily settled around the cheerful blaze, drinking tea and eating Cook’s special biscuits.
‘It’s a good thing I didn’t go to sleep this evening, Sarah. I waited up for you; otherwise I wouldn’t have noticed you ain’t come to bed. I fetched Jane and we came down to look for you.’
‘I’m glad you did, Betty. If you hadn’t come when you did, well… you know what would have happened.’
‘I’d have to have brought a mop and bucket instead of tray of tea,’ Jane said and the three girls giggled; Sarah glanced anxiously at Mrs Hall to see if she was shocked by their vulgarity.
The housekeeper merely smiled and handed round the plate of almond delicacies. ‘There won’t be another opportunity to eat these, girls. Cook only does them when mistress is going away. The children take a box to give their grandparents as a gift.’
‘Did I do wrong to bring them, Mrs Hall? You said to bring the biscuits in the blue tin.’
‘No, Jane, I thought you all deserved a treat tonight, so help yourself. Sarah, my dear, if you had been forced to relieve yourself in the candle cupboard no one would have blamed you, and I should have got Smith to mop the floor tomorrow morning.’
‘I guessed it was Emma; she must have followed me down. Will she be dismissed, Mrs Hall?’
For a moment Mrs Hall didn’t answer. Her mouth pursed and she was the formidable ruler of the servants’ hall once more. ‘The matter has already been dealt with; I sent word up to Nanny Brown as soon as Betty and Jane told me what had happened.’ She paused, her expression softening. ‘In fact, Sarah, I saw Emma coming up from the basement as I was checking all the doors had been fastened securely. She wasn’t aware I’d seen her, and at the time I thought no more about it.’
‘It was a horrible thing to do, Mrs Hall, but… well, I don’t want her to lose her position because of me.’
‘Sarah, this is not the first time I’ve suspected that girl of behaving badly to juniors; but this is the first time I’ve had the evidence to put before the mistress and justify my decision to dismiss her. You’re a kind girl to be so forgiving, but I cannot have someone working here who behaves in such a way.’
Sarah and Betty eventually climbed into bed as the clock, from the church on East Hill, struck one. She had to be up at six in order to supervise the loading of the trunks as the baggage coach was leaving before breakfast. Mr and Mrs Bawtree expected the children, Nanny and herself to follow shortly afterwards. The journey to Ipswich should take more no more than a few hours unless the coach became stuck in a rut or lost a wheel.
Not wanting to dwell on the time she’d spent shivering in the dark, she pushed the memory to the back of her mind and attempted to forget. The horrible experience had been a blessing really, as it meant her tormentor had been dismissed. From now on her life would be so much easier without that nasty piece of work there to constantly criticise and bully her.
Her eyes fluttered shut, but as she was about to fall asleep a disturbing notion drifted through her mind. What if the next under nurse was worse than Emma Smith?