Another summer was over before Sarah had time to enjoy it. With the arrival of the new infant, Henry, the master had decided to appoint a second nursery-maid. Betty had applied for the job and she had soon proved herself superior to Sally; in fact, she was a natural with the children.
Having her best friend to talk to during the day made the responsibility of the four older children easier to manage. However, Betty wasn’t allowed in the servants’ hall of an evening as only the seniors could go in there. It was expected that seniors spend time together, Sarah would much rather have avoided this duty. She didn’t fit in with them; they tolerated her, but didn’t include her in their private conversations. She sorely missed the cosy evenings spent roasting chestnuts in front of the fire.
When she had any free time she was often obliged to spend it on her own, either walking or reading in her room. Betty never got the same days off as she did. On one afternoon she walked as far as Wivenhoe along the towpath that led from The Hythe. It made her feel closer to Alfie somehow. Although he’d never returned, she liked to think of him sailing on his barge, or perhaps now on a larger vessel. The water from the River Colne joined the North Sea – maybe he was somewhere on this huge stretch of water.
Initially she’d visited Mrs Sainty. Alfie’s friends had shot up; the older one, Bert, had made advances to her, asking her to walk out with him. She wasn’t going there again – that was the last thing she wanted to get mixed up in. He was all right, but she wasn’t ready to think about having a sweetheart. Look where it had got Jane! She sometimes wondered how her friend had prospered. It was well over a year since she had left in disgrace.
Nanny asked her if she would be prepared to do some sewing for the layette for the new arrival due just before Christmas. When the next baby came, Nanny would have two infants to take care of. It was a good thing there were two nursery-maids; she could never manage on her own with just Sally. This work must be done in her own time, but she’d be paid extra for it. She had nothing better to do with her free afternoons so willingly agreed. She had at least nine pounds put away in the master’s bank and it would be a wise move to add to this.
* * *
At the end of October Sarah took the children to the Saint Denis fair, Sally hanging on to Eliza, she pushing the perambulator with Henry and the boys walking sedately between them. It would have been more fun if Betty had been able to accompany them, but she was supervising the renewal of the children’s clothes. This was the task the under nurse would normally undertake, but Nanny Brown hadn’t been happy about Betty being out on her own with five children.
The children had pennies to spend, and came back with barley sugar twists, a monkey on a stick, a bag of marbles and a picture book. It had been a successful outing. People smiled at her approvingly. She was respected as a girl who worked for her living in a fine house. The master and mistress had been out to lunch at a gathering of dignitaries at the Cups Hotel to celebrate the opening of something or other.
‘Here we are, children. Sally, can you take the boys upstairs? I shall take Master Henry in through the back door. The perambulator is too heavy to take up the steps.’
Mary, a senior parlourmaid, opened the door and let the children in. She waited until they were inside – she didn’t trust Sally to get the lively boys and Eliza in safely by herself. Sarah headed for the rear of the house. The gardener’s boy rushed to her assistance. ‘Sarah, I’ve been waiting for you. Let me help you with that pram. It’s too heavy for you.’
‘Get along with you, Robbie. I can manage perfectly well. But thank you for offering.’ Laughing as the boy blushed scarlet, she turned the pram round and dragged it up the steps.
The door opened as she got there. Betty’s face was blotchy from tears. She grabbed Sarah’s arm. ‘I’m to take Master Henry upstairs – you’re to go at once to see Mrs Hall. They found out about Jane’s references. I can’t believe it, after so long. It ain’t fair, you getting the blame.’
Sarah wished she hadn’t eaten the iced bun earlier. ‘I won’t mention you, I promise, Betty. There’s no point in both of us being dismissed, is there?’ She closed her eyes, trying to marshal her thoughts. ‘I can’t take my books and things or my patchwork quilt and handkerchiefs. Can I leave them in your room until I know where I’m going to be? I’m likely to have them stolen from me if I take them with me today.’
‘It’s the least I can do. It ain’t fair it’s always the likes of us what get punished. You’d better hurry – she’ll know you’re back by now.’
Sarah straightened her dress, patted her hair to see it was neatly in place, and walked calmly to the housekeeper’s room. She rapped on the door and was bid enter.
She curtsied, and stepped inside closing the door behind her. She didn’t attempt to sit down. One look at Mrs Hall’s face confirmed life at Grey Friars House was over.
‘The master tells me you forged references for Jane Bolton when she left here last year? Is that correct?’
Sarah nodded, unable to speak.
‘I am gravely disappointed in you, Sarah. I know what you did was a kind gesture, but it was stealing, and forgery is a serious crime. You are lucky the master is not going to press charges. I have persuaded him to be satisfied with your instant dismissal.’
Sarah grabbed the back of a chair for support. ‘Thank you for speaking up for me, Mrs Hall. I have been very happy here, and will be sad to go. May I say goodbye to the children before I go?’
‘No, the master says you are to leave immediately, speak to no one.’
‘Am I to be allowed to collect my things?’
Mrs Hall cleared her throat noisily. ‘Of course you may. I cannot tell you how sad I am to be saying goodbye to you, Sarah. I cannot even give you what you’re owed for the sewing and your last quarter’s wages. Mr Bawtree has given instructions for it to be paid into your savings account. You can’t access that until the end of next week.’ The housekeeper raised her head, her eyes glittering. ‘But I would like you to take this; it’s not much, but it should tide you over until you can get to the bank.’
Sarah picked up a half-crown and a handful of coppers almost too moved to answer. She curtsied. ‘Thank you, Mrs Hall.’ She couldn’t say more. Her throat was clogged. If she stayed she would be crying in earnest.
The corridor was empty. She dashed up the stairs. She wasn’t ever going to the nursery again, couldn’t say goodbye to the children. What would the little ones think when she didn’t appear?
She couldn’t bear it; it was like losing Tommy all over again. Thank God they had Betty to take care of them in her stead.
Was she supposed to be grateful she’d been allowed to collect her belongings? Anger made her stronger. Betty was waiting outside the room, her cheeks wet. ‘Please don’t cry – I shall be all right. It’s Jane you should be worrying about. She’ll have been dismissed as well as me, and I doubt she will have any money put by.’
She comforted her friend as she guided her into her bedroom. ‘Quickly, take the books, my patchwork, and handkerchiefs. Put them somewhere safe at the back of the closet. Don’t tell Sally that you have them – I don’t trust her. Those little things that have been going missing in the nursery, I’m sure it’s her.’
‘I promise Sally will never know about them. I’ll explain to the children. They’ll not think badly of you if I have my way. I doubt that she will be here much longer. There’s gossip about her downstairs as well. I’m sorry, but she knows about your money in the bank. It came up when I was telling her she ought to save like what you do.’
‘Never mind, it’s safe enough in there.’ She embraced her friend. ‘Oh, Betty, I’m going to miss you. We can meet up on your afternoon off. We’ll not lose touch, I give you my word.’
There was no time to stand talking. Any moment someone might come upstairs and physically eject her from the premises.
Where in God’s name was she going to go? She had less than a pound, and couldn’t get her money from the bank until next week. She stripped off her uniform and tossed it into the linen basket, changing rapidly into her own garments. She crammed everything else into a battered carpetbag Betty had found her.
Her friend ran back and forth transferring her precious objects to a secret hiding place. Kicking aside her indoor shoes – they didn’t belong to her anyway – she unlaced one boot and dropped her money into the bottom before pushing her foot back in. No one could steal it now; it made her limp a little, but that was a price worth paying to keep her money safe from thieves.
‘Don’t cry. You must get back to work before Nanny sends for you. I don’t want her to know you had anything to do with this.’
She put her cloak on and jammed her bonnet on her head. She glanced round the room she’d occupied for more than a year. ‘I must go. Goodbye, Betty. Take care of yourself. Everything will be all right, I promise.’
When she reached the rear hall it was full of sombre-faced staff. Word had spread rapidly. They must all know that she had risked her job for Jane and was paying the price. She was hugged and patted, and several coins were pressed into her hand as she left. She almost ran out of the back door, not wanting to hear anything more about how sorry they were. They weren’t as sorry as she was; that was for sure.
She didn’t stop until she was across East Hill and out of sight of anyone who might be peering from the windows. She closed her eyes and leant, shuddering, against the wall waiting for the wave of despair to abate. The only piece of advice she remembered was to go down to St Botolph’s, the place her ma told her no decent folk visited. Down there, it would seem, she could find herself a room that wouldn’t cost too much.
She had no option, not until she was able to withdraw her savings. The master had deliberately made things difficult for her – it was spiteful, that’s what it was. Next week she would buy the best paper she could find, pen and ink as well, and write herself some glowing references. She’d have more sense than to try and find a position within fifty miles of Colchester. She’d go to London. She could find herself a good position there. As long as she maintained the pretence that she was unable to read or write her deception should remain undiscovered.
As she stumbled along, blinded by tears, she wondered if she should go to Mrs Sainty. Wouldn’t she be happy to give her a bed for the night? Then she thought of the oldest boy leering at her, his hands taking liberties. She’d face a worse kind of danger under that roof than she would with strangers. No, she’d be better trying her luck on her own. It would only be for a week, then she could withdraw her money and find herself somewhere decent to stay until the next stagecoach left from The Red Lion. Maybe she’d travel on the newfangled steam train instead. It was a two-mile walk from the station to the town centre, further if she was living around St Botolph’s.
She dried her eyes and began to take notice of her surroundings. An old lady staggered past lugging a large basket filled with damaged vegetables. Sarah offered to help her.
‘Can I carry that for you? I’m going down Queen Street myself, and I’ve only got this carpetbag. It doesn’t weigh very much.’
‘Thank you, lovie, it’s fair breaking me arm.’ The old lady handed over her burden and Sarah hooked it over her free arm. ‘You bin turned off, have you? Looking for somewhere to stay?’
Sarah looked at the woman. She was clean, her clothes worn but washed, and her eyes seemed kind enough. ‘I’m afraid I have. I did something I shouldn’t have and got found out. There’s no second chances when you work for the gentry. I do need somewhere to stay. Do you know of anywhere with rooms to rent?’
The old lady beamed. ‘There’s a place just around the corner from me, with Ada Billings. She lets out a room sometimes whilst her men are away at sea. She could do with the company I reckon. Tell her Annie Cooke sent you.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Cooke. God’s certainly taking care of me today.’
‘One good turn deserves another – that’s what I always say.’
The street was packed with folks returning from the fair. It was impossible to continue the conversation, the pavement being too crowded to walk side by side. Sarah began to wish Queen Street was shorter, the basket less heavy and her carpetbag not so awkward.
They walked past the theatre, past Mr Hyam’s establishment where her stepfather used to get his work from, and then they were in St Botolph’s Street. Mrs Smith pointed to the small lane that led off parallel to the church. ‘It’s that tall house over there, the one on the end of the terrace. Good luck.’
‘I’ll carry this to your door, Mrs Cooke. It’s no trouble.’
‘No, give it here, lovie. You get off and find yourself a bed for the night. I just live around the corner. I can manage the basket that far.’
Annie trundled off, not waiting to be thanked again, and Sarah dodged round a pile of refuse, lifting her skirts as she did so. She’d have to be less fussy if she was going to live round here. Queen Street wasn’t much different from East Stockwell Street, and certainly a lot better than Barrack Street where she’d had to go to fetch her stepfather that dreadful day. It was a bit scruffier round here, but not too bad.
Mrs Billings lived in a decent-sized house. It had a tiny flower garden in front and a freshly painted paling fence up against the flagstones. She opened the gate and took the two steps to the front door. She rapped loudly. There was the unmistakable sound of children shouting, and then running feet approached the door. She braced herself. It was flung open by a boy with a shock of fair hair, about ten years old. He grinned at her and shouted over his shoulder. ‘Ma, there’s a pretty lady here and she’s got a bag.’
A small, round woman with careworn face but a friendly smile bustled out from the kitchen, a small child on her hip. ‘Can I help you, miss?’
‘I’m Sarah Nightingale, Mrs Billings. I met Mrs Cooke and she thought you might have a room I could rent for a while.’
Mrs Billings looked her up and down. ‘You been turned off?’
Sarah nodded. ‘I’m not in the family way, if that’s what you’re thinking. I helped another girl out last year, and got found out today. I’ve lost my position because of it.’
The woman nodded. ‘Thought as much. Come along in, Sarah Nightingale, I’ve got a spare room at the back. It’s where my boys sleep when they’re home. You can have it until their ship docks. Will that do you?’
‘It certainly will, Mrs Billings. I’m really grateful. I just need a few days to get myself together. I’ve got some money in the bank, but I can’t get it out until next week.’ The woman frowned so Sarah hurried on. ‘I have enough to pay for my room until then. I’m hoping to go to London in a week or two anyway. How much is the room?’
Mrs Billings smiled, her homely face transformed from suspicious to friendly. ‘That’s all right then – you’re welcome to stop here until then. Charlie, show the lady where she’s going. It’s one and six all found. Can you manage that?’
Sarah froze, horrified. That much? She would only have enough for a few nights. ‘I don’t know, Mrs Billings, that seems rather a lot for one night’s board and lodging.’
The woman’s chuckles filled the corridor. ‘Lord love you, Sarah Nightingale, that’s for a week, not a night.’
Sarah joined in the laughter. ‘In that case, that’s very reasonable. I’ll bring the money down when I come.’
Charlie squeezed past and galloped up the stairs. He went to a door at the far end of the passage. ‘This is where my big brothers sleep. They’re not back until the new year, so you’re right for a while.’
Sarah looked around. It was spotless. A large brass bedstead stood in pride of place. There was a commode, a chest of drawers, a shelf and the luxury of a mirror hanging above the rudimentary washstand. It wasn’t as grand as the room she’d had, but it was a lot better than she had any right to expect. ‘Thank you, Charlie, it’s lovely. I heard a lot of other children. How many are there in your family?’
The boy tilted his head to one side and concentrated. Holding up his fingers he began to count.
‘There’s me two big brothers, Robert and Jethro, what’s away. There’s me, Amy and Grace – they’re twins you know. Both me sisters are working in a big house in the country somewhere. We only see them now and then.’
She smiled. ‘But how many children are living at home, Charlie. That’s what I’d like to know.’
He nodded solemnly and began his count once more. ‘Then there’s Billy, Eddie, and me – we’ve got the attic – and then there’s the baby, Beth, and that’s all. Well, for the moment anyway. Ma’s in the family way again. Always the same when me pa comes home.’
Sarah thought it was more than enough in one family and judging by the size of Mrs Billings the next happy event was expected after Christmas. Good grief! That would make nine children. No wonder the poor woman looked worn out. While she was staying there, she’d do everything she could to help. After all she was trained to look after children and knew how to cook and clean as well as any other young woman.
It took minutes to dispose of her possessions and she was ready to return. Her boots clattered on the wooden boards. She didn’t have to ask where the family was – the chattering and laughing was coming from the kitchen, which ran the width of the house at the back. She pushed open the door and Mrs Billings turned to greet her.
‘Come in, my dear, I’ve just brewed a pot of tea. Sit down at the table, and tell me all about yourself. Would you like to hold my Beth for a bit?’
She opened her arms and took the child. The infant, about eighteen months old, stared at her solemnly and then reached out to pat her cheek. ‘I was under nurse at Grey Friars House and I would be very happy to help out in any way I can until I find myself another position.’
‘That won’t be so easy, Sarah love, not without references. Maybe you can get something on a daily basis. Folks aren’t so fussy if you’re prepared to do the rough work.’
Her heart sank. Was that what she was reduced to? Scrubbing other women’s floors and cleaning out the privy? Then she recovered – of course she didn’t have to do a menial job. Didn’t she have a small fortune saved up and the skills to write her own references? But this was something she thought best not to mention to her landlady.
Things weren’t so bad really. She was young and fit, educated above her class and had money in the bank. Ma had always said that when one door closes another one opens. She’d always wanted to better herself and now she had the opportunity to go to London and make a new life away from Colchester.
Her spirits lifted and she pushed her sadness aside. From now on she would look forward and not back. She was Miss Sarah Nightingale – a woman grown and not a frightened child any more.