The Children of Willesden Lane: Beyond The Kindertransport: A Memoir of Music, Love, and Survival by Mona Golabek, Lee Cohen

young lady. There’s a sponge under the sink.”
    Lisa grabbed a plate and started scrubbing.

6
    B RIGHTON - BY - THE - SEA was a city renowned for summer holidays and family vacations. Winter was another story.
    The train station was hollow and empty and cold. Lisa was relieved to see a heavyset man in his twenties standing on the quay holding up a hand-lettered sign with her name on it. He wore a neatly pressed dark blue uniform and matching cap.
    “I’m Monty,” he said, offering his hand in a hearty English handshake. For a second Lisa thought he’d broken the bones in her fingers and shook them surreptitiously behind her.
    He took her small suitcase and led her to an elegant black sedan. Driven to her English home by a chauffeur! If Mama could only see her now.
    They drove through the brown countryside, its fallow fields neatly bordered by trees whose leafless branches stretched upward like inverted brooms. The sedan turned off the main road at a stone pillar. The sign read “Peacock Manor.” At the end of a long driveway was a massive country estate house—three stories tall, with turrets decorating the left and right corners. It looked every bit like a castle from her daydreams.
    Monty pulled the sedan through the elegant porte cochere and continued around to the servants entrance at the back. The cook, three maids, and a butler came out to meet her. “Welcome to Peacock Manor,” said a lady with a no-nonsense air about her. “I’m Gladys, this here’s Lola, and this is Betsy, and this is Carrie. And this fine man is Mr. Piedmont, our butler. You’ll meet the rest of us later; come in and take a hot bath and we’ll get you some tea.”
    As Lisa struggled to say something polite, Gladys added, “We’ve heard all about you, so don’t you worry. We’ll take good care of you.”
    Lisa felt conspicuous in her old wool coat, long dress, and leggings; she knew she must look shabby and that every eye was on her. She dusted herself off and tried to smile.
    Gladys showed her to a small but cozy room in the servants wing and gave her a starched white maid’s uniform. When she was pronounced presentable, she was ushered through the vast, ornate foyer, past a dining room with a splendid chandelier, and down a long hallway whose walls were covered with oil paintings. Lisa swung her head quickly right and left, taking in the grandeur of it all.
    She was shown into the study where her sponsor, Captain Richmond, and the butler were packing oil paints, easels, and half-finished canvases into cardboard boxes. The captain was a man in his sixties and sported two patches of white hair at the edges of a pink, bald head. A fragrant pipe hung from his mouth.
    “So there you are, missy.” He thrust out his hand. Lisa took it, preparing for the worst, but his handshake was mercifully gentle. “Good to have you here. You make sure Gladys treats you nicely!” He winked good-naturedly at the head maid.
    “Thank you,” said Lisa.
    “My wife looks forward to meeting you; she’s off gallivanting in Paris—back next week. Don’t mind this mess. I’m giving my painting studio over to the Home Guard; we’re certainly not hoping for a war, Chamberlain has my complete trust, but just in case . . . we had best be prepared.”
    Lisa was so overwhelmed that she was grateful when Gladys handed her a feather duster and led her up the large staircase into the main hall. “I can’t be bothered explaining everything to you, so just follow along and keep your eyes open.”
    Lisa quickly fell into the routine of the castle. She had a keen eye for the out-of-place article and the dust that gathered in corners, and by the end of the first week Gladys seemed duly impressed.
    “You might just work out,” the head maid announced in front of the others at the servants dinner table.
    “And coming from her tough hide, that’s a huge compliment,” laughed Monty. Gladys slapped Monty on the shoulder, and Lisa saw a sparkle in her eye.