because she was a terrible snob and wanted to pretend she came out of the top drawer. But Verity was frightened about how her mother would cope once the housekeeper left. She hadn’t cooked, cleaned or washed any clothes for years. Her days were spent in West End stores or having afternoon tea with her bridge cronies. The packed trunk was standing in the hall, awaiting Aunt Hazel’s agreement that they could send it over to her, and then follow themselves when necessary. But how was Cynthia Wood going to survive in Lewisham?
Verity expressed her fears to Miss Parsons. ‘You’vealways run everything, even decided what we would eat,’ she said. ‘How will Mother manage?’
‘I believe your Aunt Hazel will shake her out of that,’ the older woman said with a smile. ‘It’ll be hard for you, caught in the crossfire, but try not to become their servant – or to despair, because as soon as you are fourteen you can leave school.’
It soothed Verity’s anxiety a little to find Miss Parsons did really care about her; it seemed astounding that for all these years Verity hadn’t known that.
‘But what sort of a job will I get?’ she asked. ‘I’ve never had to think about working.’
‘Well, my advice would be to go into service, at least at first, because that way you can leave home but have the security of being in someone else’s home. Being trained as a maid would be easy for you, you’ve grown up seeing how it is done. That will stand you in good stead for all kinds of employment later on.’
Verity had a feeling that the older woman was speaking from personal experience. If she had left her family home at fourteen because of some disaster or bad feeling, it could explain why she never spoke about her past.
All that day and evening, Verity thought on what Miss Parsons had said. It was true she’d never considered that she might
have
to work, though she had sometimes imagined herself as a nurse, an actress or a secretary at different times. Mother and her teachers at school had always implied further education was a waste as she would just marry and have children. Verity actually liked the idea of working; she’d often thought that daughters who stayed at home until they married must be terribly bored all day. Butshe didn’t fancy the idea of being a maid, not even if it got her away from home.
Maids worked very long hours, they were at the mercy of their mistress and other more senior staff, and she certainly wouldn’t like to empty chamber pots for aristocratic people too lazy to walk down a corridor to a lavatory. She knew maids did have to do this, because Lily Armstrong, a girl at school who lived in a huge house in Belsize Park and had both upstairs and downstairs maids, had told her. But although Verity knew what she didn’t want to do, she didn’t know what she could do, or even what the choices were. Anyway, that was almost immaterial, as whatever she wanted to do – be it nursing, teaching or almost everything else – they wouldn’t take her on at fourteen.
Verity felt scared. Her life so far had been utterly predictable and secure. Dull, maybe, but with good food, nice surroundings and lovely clothes, she certainly couldn’t complain. Suddenly all that was gone.
CHAPTER FIVE
Itwas exactly six weeks from the day the police came to the house looking for Verity’s father, when a letter came from the solicitors. It informed her mother that, as a result of her husband embezzling company funds, her home was going to be taken. She was advised she must leave the house in Daleham Gardens within seven days or suffer the indignity of bailiffs removing her from the property. Predictably Cynthia became hysterical.
Verity read the letter and found it was worded in a sympathetic, fair manner, explaining her mother could take clothes, bedding and essential equipment for the preparation of food with her, but she was to leave everything else in place. The solicitor pointed out that while she
Verity expressed her fears to Miss Parsons. ‘You’vealways run everything, even decided what we would eat,’ she said. ‘How will Mother manage?’
‘I believe your Aunt Hazel will shake her out of that,’ the older woman said with a smile. ‘It’ll be hard for you, caught in the crossfire, but try not to become their servant – or to despair, because as soon as you are fourteen you can leave school.’
It soothed Verity’s anxiety a little to find Miss Parsons did really care about her; it seemed astounding that for all these years Verity hadn’t known that.
‘But what sort of a job will I get?’ she asked. ‘I’ve never had to think about working.’
‘Well, my advice would be to go into service, at least at first, because that way you can leave home but have the security of being in someone else’s home. Being trained as a maid would be easy for you, you’ve grown up seeing how it is done. That will stand you in good stead for all kinds of employment later on.’
Verity had a feeling that the older woman was speaking from personal experience. If she had left her family home at fourteen because of some disaster or bad feeling, it could explain why she never spoke about her past.
All that day and evening, Verity thought on what Miss Parsons had said. It was true she’d never considered that she might
have
to work, though she had sometimes imagined herself as a nurse, an actress or a secretary at different times. Mother and her teachers at school had always implied further education was a waste as she would just marry and have children. Verity actually liked the idea of working; she’d often thought that daughters who stayed at home until they married must be terribly bored all day. Butshe didn’t fancy the idea of being a maid, not even if it got her away from home.
Maids worked very long hours, they were at the mercy of their mistress and other more senior staff, and she certainly wouldn’t like to empty chamber pots for aristocratic people too lazy to walk down a corridor to a lavatory. She knew maids did have to do this, because Lily Armstrong, a girl at school who lived in a huge house in Belsize Park and had both upstairs and downstairs maids, had told her. But although Verity knew what she didn’t want to do, she didn’t know what she could do, or even what the choices were. Anyway, that was almost immaterial, as whatever she wanted to do – be it nursing, teaching or almost everything else – they wouldn’t take her on at fourteen.
Verity felt scared. Her life so far had been utterly predictable and secure. Dull, maybe, but with good food, nice surroundings and lovely clothes, she certainly couldn’t complain. Suddenly all that was gone.
CHAPTER FIVE
Itwas exactly six weeks from the day the police came to the house looking for Verity’s father, when a letter came from the solicitors. It informed her mother that, as a result of her husband embezzling company funds, her home was going to be taken. She was advised she must leave the house in Daleham Gardens within seven days or suffer the indignity of bailiffs removing her from the property. Predictably Cynthia became hysterical.
Verity read the letter and found it was worded in a sympathetic, fair manner, explaining her mother could take clothes, bedding and essential equipment for the preparation of food with her, but she was to leave everything else in place. The solicitor pointed out that while she
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