PEGGY O’DRISCOLL WAS JADED, just jaded. She had washed and scrubbed and polished every floor and door and piece of furniture in Rushton House, in Greenbay, Boston. She had worked from sun-up to sun-down for the past week. Poor Mrs O’Connor, the cook, lay flopped down in her big kitchen chair, out cold with exhaustion. Normally, Peggy would have giggled at her loud snores, but today she knew that Cook, like the rest of them, was worn out with the preparations for Miss Roxanne’s wedding.
Kitty, the other maid, was all uppity, as she was helping Roxanne to prepare her trousseau and pack her things and organise her wedding gifts.
Peggy dawdled in the kitchen, helping herself to a glass of cold water and an oatmeal biscuit.
‘Mrs O’Connor! Mrs O’Connor!’ She shook the woman’s arm gently. ‘Maybe it’s time for bed!’
The old cook yawned. ‘Did I fall asleep again, Peggy?’
‘Aye.’
‘You know, Peggy, I’m done in. I’m not getting any younger. Thanks be to God that the Rowans have only one daughter to get wed! I wouldn’t be able for a family of them!’
Peggy grimaced. A family of Roxannes! It didn’t bear thinking about. Roxanne was one of the vainest and most annoying and most aggravating creatures ever; Mrs O’Connor said it was a miracle that she was getting married. What young man would put up with her tantrums and bossiness and constant preening and admiring herself?
Still, Roxanne had found him. His name was Fletcher P. Parker. Peggy had seen him a few times.
He was about eight years older than Roxanne and of about average height. He had curly fair hair and his skin was pale and slightly blotchy. He was an attorney-at-law and he came from Baltimore. He had concluded some business with Mr Rowan and had been invited to the house for dinner. Miss Roxanne sat beside him. He made pleasant conversation with her and as the meal progressed Peggy watched as the young mistress flirted outrageously with him.
‘The fish took the bait,’ was all Mrs O’Connor would say.
Mr and Mrs Rowan seemed to approve as Fletcher Parker escorted Roxanne to a round of balls and operas and dinner parties and picnics. This had culminated in their betrothal and now their marriage.
‘Help me up from the chair, lassie! My hip is playing up on me again!’
Peggy helped Mrs O’Connor to her feet. Up close she could see the pattern of laughter-lines and wrinkles that covered the cook’s plump, pink-toned face.
‘Mrs O’Connor, I’ll bring you a cup of tea in the morning before you get up. ‘Twill be a long day tomorrow.’
‘Thank you, Peggy child! That would be grand. You know, you’re the kindest lassie I know.’
Peggy smiled to herself as they both left the darkened kitchen, the pantry and store cupboards full to bursting with all the fine food for tomorrow’s wedding. She sighed as she climbed the narrow, wooden stairs to her attic bedroom. She hoped Kitty would be asleep already. She was too tired for chit-chat, especially about the wedding.
But Kitty was sitting on the bed, busy tying up her normally straight fine hair with rags.
‘Peggy! I need you to do some of the pieces at the back,’ said Kitty brightly.
‘It’s too late!’ yawned Peggy. ‘Why’re you doing your hair at this hour anyway?’
‘I want to have a few curls tomorrow so it’ll look softer,’ said the other girl wistfully.
‘’Tisn’t you that’s getting married!’ snapped Peggy.
‘But I’m assisting her and that’s special. I’m her right-hand woman,’ Kitty said importantly.
Peggy tried to stifle a laugh. ‘Here, pass me a bit of that cloth, you silly old thing,’ she said, and she grabbed a piece of her friend’s mouse-brown hair and wrapped it around her finger before tying it with a tight bow.
‘Peggy! I’ve something to tell you.’
‘Hmm!’ answered Peggy, picking out another piece of hair.
‘Promise you won’t get cross!’
‘I promise.’
‘Roxanne has asked me to go and work for herself and Mister Fletcher Parker in the new house in Baltimore.’
Peggy dropped the piece of hair. ‘I hope you told her no, Kitty!’
A heavy silence hung between them.
‘Well, that’s just it, Peggy. I told her yes, that I’d like to go.’
‘Why, you miserable little … Are you crazy! Work for that shrew? She’ll beat you black and blue and scream at you and make your life a misery.’
‘But I’ll be her personal maid, with higher wages, and sort of chief housekeeper too. They’ll take on a cook and a skivvy. She said I can advise her on household management and the like.’
Peggy swallowed a bitter lump of jealousy. It was ridiculous – Kitty advise anyone! It was just too stupid.
‘What about the household accounts and bills?’ questioned Peggy.
‘Well, Miss Roxanne intends to keep the books herself, but I should be able to manage the day-to-day stuff,’ Kitty said. ‘Thanks to you teaching me to read and write,’ she added.
Tears came into Peggy’s eyes. Kitty was going away and leaving her! ‘Kitty! Won’t you miss the house and Greenbay?’ Peggy asked. But what she really wanted to say was, Won’t you miss me?
‘But I’ll come here. Miss Roxanne will often come to visit her parents and naturally I’ll travel with her.’ Kitty looked shyly at her friend. ‘And I’ll still get to see you, Peggy. You don’t think I’d forget about my best and dearest friend.’
Peggy swallowed hard. She looked around the small bedroom with its two brass beds and cold linoleum floor. The washstand with its jug and bowl. The window with the stiff catch, their eye on the world. The glass pitcher with its now dried-out flowers. The two samplers they had spent weeks working on, hanging on the wall above their beds: BE GOOD SWEET MAID and FRIENDSHIP IS A GIFT, worked in multicoloured embroidery threads. Peggy couldn’t imagine this room without Kitty.
When Peggy had first arrived, homesick and miserable, missing her home in Ireland, it was Kitty who had made her smile, and helped her settle into this new life.
‘Oh God, Kitty, I’ll miss you so much,’ sobbed Peggy. The two girls hugged each other. ‘It’ll be so lonesome here without you.’