Twenty-Two

On the afternoon of the class party, Elinor had a piece of luck. Mrs Petrie graciously agreed that she could have stove time to make her mince pies, as long as she told Miss Ainslie, brought her own mincemeat, and made the time up.

‘Ma’s given me the mincemeat and I’ve already spoken to Miss Ainslie,’ Elinor replied. ‘She said I needn’t make the time up.’

‘Did she indeed?’ Mrs Petrie’s eyes snapped. ‘I don’t know how you lassies do it, but anything you want, you get, eh? Talk about twisting Miss Ainslie round your little finger!’

‘Och, she’s no’ as easy as all that!’ Mattie cried. ‘She doesn’t let us just do as we like, Mrs Petrie.’

‘Lets you get away with murder, you mean.’ Mrs Petrie sniffed. ‘Anyway, Elinor, you can make your pies but you’ll have to manage without me. I’ve to be away to the doctor’s about my knee, though he’ll just give me more of his horrible ointment, eh?’

‘I’m sorry to hear your knee’s bad again,’ Elinor said with genuine sympathy, though at the same time, her heart was singing. Mrs Petrie to be out? Not hanging over her, watching her every move? That was bliss, that was.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll manage,’ she said cheerfully. ‘And I’ll clear everything up, leave it neat as a pin.’

‘You’d better, but Vera’s going to keep an eye on you anyway, before she starts the afternoon teas. That right, Vera?’

‘Right, Mrs Petrie,’ Vera sighed.

As soon as Mrs Petrie had departed for her afternoon appointment and Sal had washed and cleared away the lunch dishes, Elinor and Vera set to work.

‘Here’s your flour and lard,’ Vera announced, clearing space on the table. ‘Sugar, if you want to add a wee bit to the mix, and your ma’s mincemeat. This is your bowl and rolling pin, your pastry cutters and baking tins – you’ll need to grease them first. Now, which oven d’you want to use? The stove, or the gas?’

‘Oh, Lordie, which is best?’

‘Well, Mrs Petrie hates the gas, but then she’s the only one knows how to get the stove just right, eh?’

‘Thought you did, Vera!’ Elinor cried worriedly. ‘I’m counting on you!’

‘Afraid it’s all guesswork with me. Let’s go for the gas, eh? I’ll light it for you.’

‘As long as you don’t blow us all up!’ Sal called. ‘I’m terrified o’ that gas, so I am!’

‘Come on, it’ll be fine.’ Vera, striking a match, stooped to light the despised gas oven in the corner. ‘There, by the time that’s hot, your pies’ll be ready to go in, Elinor. You do know how to make pastry, eh?’

‘Sure I do!’ Elinor retorted, though she wasn’t in fact sure at all, not having had much practice. ‘You just rub in the fat and add some water, eh?’

‘Let’s see you do it, then.’

Whether it was beginner’s luck or not, Elinor’s pastry turned out well. The gas cooker did its job, with Vera keeping an eye on progress, and it wasn’t long before Elinor was hanging over a fine collection of cooling mince pies and feeling absurdly pleased with herself.

‘Aye, you’ve done a grand job,’ Vera said, shaking a little sugar over the pies. ‘Mrs Petrie’s eyes’d drop out if she could see these. Thinks nobody can bake but herself, you ken.’

‘Must thank you, Vera, for all your help. Couldn’t have managed without you.’

‘That’s all right. We’ll just get Sal to do the washing-up, eh? This place looks like it’s been in a snowstorm!’

Elinor, however, insisted on clearing up herself, and it was only when all was tidy enough to pass inspection by Mrs Petrie’s eagle eye that the maids sank down at the kitchen table for a cup of tea. Sal had run out with the upstairs letters for posting, but would soon be back, and the others would be coming down for their break.

‘Wanting to see how you got on,’ Vera said with a laugh. ‘Amazed you’re baking, eh?’

‘So am I! I was regretting ever offering, but now I’m glad I did.’

‘Aye, the pies are first rate.’ Vera hesitated a moment. ‘Did you make ’em to please your young man, then?’

‘My young man?’ Elinor stared. ‘What young man?’

‘Why, the young man at this class you go to, of course. Everybody knows you’ve got one, Elinor.’

‘Well, I really don’t know how!’ Elinor retorted, her face glowing red. ‘I’ve never said I had a young man.’

‘Why, you were seen with him, eh? No point denying it.’

‘Who? Who saw me?’

‘Ada, last Saturday afternoon, at Maule’s Corner. It was her time off as well as yours, remember, and she was going to meet her Donald. She said your young man looked ever so nice, quite the gentleman, and seemed so pleased to see you. Then you both ran off, she couldn’t see where.’

‘Surprised she didn’t follow us,’ Elinor said coldly. ‘Seemingly, we’re no’ allowed any private life here, with folk spying on us all the time.’

‘Ada wasn’t spying. She just happened to see you. And there’s always somebody to see you, if you don’t want to be seen, eh?’

‘I suppose so.’ Elinor gave a long sigh. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called Ada a spy. But she needn’t have told everybody.’

‘She didn’t tell everybody. I mean, Miss Ainslie doesn’t know, and neither does Mrs Petrie.’ Vera grinned. ‘You’ll be giving thanks for that. But you know the rest of us are interested, Elinor. We’re pleased for you. It’s nice for you to have a young man. Lord knows, it’s what we all want, eh?’

‘It’s just that  . . . well, I don’t know what’s going to happen. Whether there’s a future for us or not. I was wanting to keep things quiet until I knew.’

‘I’m sorry, then. Maybe we shouldn’t have got to know your secret. But I’m sure there’s no need to worry. Ada said the nice young man looked really smitten.’ Vera stood up and began to gather their tea things together. ‘I’ll just get you some cake boxes to put your pies in – you can bring ’em back tomorrow.’