to be this cold. I pricked my finger on my needle and although the pain was very slight, it brought tears to my eyes which felt hot and foolish.
It seemed an eternity before Mary came in to take Mother to bed. Blood had stained the small embroidery I was working on, but I did not care. I wanted to leave the room too, as quickly as I could, and be on my own in my bed. I put down my sewing and bade the men goodnight. Although our guest broke off from conversation to wish me a good evening, Father merely grunted and Jacob nodded his head.
I told Mary I could put myself to bed once she had unlaced me and hung up my gown. She did not protest, probably being only too glad for an early night. The quietness of my room was all that I wanted, and as I heard Mary’s footsteps disappear down the corridor, I let myself feel what had been filling my insides all evening.
I sat on the edge of my bed and thumped my pillows hard. How dare he make me feel like this? To ignore me so rudely? No harm would have come from him showing some politeness. I was not going to cry. I would show him that it did not matter to me in the least. He was only a poor orphan, after all. I deserved much better, didn’t I?
I unpinned my hair and sat at my dressing table brushing through the tangles with quick, hard strokes. I would not go down to breakfast in the morning, I decided. I would feign some complaint and stay in my room.
A small tap at my door made me pause in my brushing. Mary checking on me, no doubt. I fancied I could do with her company now and she may as well finish my hair while she was here. My arm was beginning to ache. ‘Come in!’ I called. The door did not open. ‘Mary. Come in!’ I called again. Still she did not open the door. What was she doing? I put my brush down on the dressing table and, wrapping my shawl around me, I went to open the door myself.
There was no one outside. The corridor was empty. Foolish woman, I thought. She must be getting deaf in her old age and assumed I was asleep. As I went to close the door I saw a fold of paper lying on the floor just inside the threshold. I picked it up, closed the door and went over to the candle by my bed to see what it was. My fingers fumbled as I unfolded the paper.
Ellen
I will be back early from the hospital tomorrow. I will be in the garden at around three o’clock if you would care to take a stroll.
Yours,
Jacob
I laughed out loud and hugged the note to me. How could I have doubted him? I had been childish and impatient. Now I just wanted the hours to pass, for the night to disappear in a blink and for me to be walking through the garden to meet Jacob. I chided myself for my continued impatience, and felt a smile stretch across my face as I slipped the note under my pillow and climbed into bed to wait for sleep to come.
15
Queenie
Wild Street was quiet. Its grubby four-storeyed houses seemed to Queenie to be the grandest of places. They stood tall and proud and stared down their noses at the rest of the world. She looked again at the name on the piece of newspaper.
Mrs Waters
, she whispered to herself,
I’ve come about the position, ma’am.
She smoothed down her hair and straightened her shawl and hoped that no one would notice how Mam’s old shoes slopped about on her feet.
Number 4 was the second house on the left. Its windows were streaked with dirt and the tiny front garden was a tangle of overgrown weeds. Queenie took a deep breath, climbed the ten steps up to the door and knocked hard.
Footsteps echoed inside the house and Queenie heard locks being unbolted. Then a large woman with untidy orange curls opened the door and peered out.
‘Erm, sorry to disturb you, ma’am. Mrs Waters I’m after. Is she home?’
‘What is it you want her for?’
‘She needs a girl to help her with the housework and the children. Here, look, I saw it in the newspaper.’ Queenie held the torn paper advertisement out to the woman.
‘Yes, yes,’ said the woman
It seemed an eternity before Mary came in to take Mother to bed. Blood had stained the small embroidery I was working on, but I did not care. I wanted to leave the room too, as quickly as I could, and be on my own in my bed. I put down my sewing and bade the men goodnight. Although our guest broke off from conversation to wish me a good evening, Father merely grunted and Jacob nodded his head.
I told Mary I could put myself to bed once she had unlaced me and hung up my gown. She did not protest, probably being only too glad for an early night. The quietness of my room was all that I wanted, and as I heard Mary’s footsteps disappear down the corridor, I let myself feel what had been filling my insides all evening.
I sat on the edge of my bed and thumped my pillows hard. How dare he make me feel like this? To ignore me so rudely? No harm would have come from him showing some politeness. I was not going to cry. I would show him that it did not matter to me in the least. He was only a poor orphan, after all. I deserved much better, didn’t I?
I unpinned my hair and sat at my dressing table brushing through the tangles with quick, hard strokes. I would not go down to breakfast in the morning, I decided. I would feign some complaint and stay in my room.
A small tap at my door made me pause in my brushing. Mary checking on me, no doubt. I fancied I could do with her company now and she may as well finish my hair while she was here. My arm was beginning to ache. ‘Come in!’ I called. The door did not open. ‘Mary. Come in!’ I called again. Still she did not open the door. What was she doing? I put my brush down on the dressing table and, wrapping my shawl around me, I went to open the door myself.
There was no one outside. The corridor was empty. Foolish woman, I thought. She must be getting deaf in her old age and assumed I was asleep. As I went to close the door I saw a fold of paper lying on the floor just inside the threshold. I picked it up, closed the door and went over to the candle by my bed to see what it was. My fingers fumbled as I unfolded the paper.
Ellen
I will be back early from the hospital tomorrow. I will be in the garden at around three o’clock if you would care to take a stroll.
Yours,
Jacob
I laughed out loud and hugged the note to me. How could I have doubted him? I had been childish and impatient. Now I just wanted the hours to pass, for the night to disappear in a blink and for me to be walking through the garden to meet Jacob. I chided myself for my continued impatience, and felt a smile stretch across my face as I slipped the note under my pillow and climbed into bed to wait for sleep to come.
15
Queenie
Wild Street was quiet. Its grubby four-storeyed houses seemed to Queenie to be the grandest of places. They stood tall and proud and stared down their noses at the rest of the world. She looked again at the name on the piece of newspaper.
Mrs Waters
, she whispered to herself,
I’ve come about the position, ma’am.
She smoothed down her hair and straightened her shawl and hoped that no one would notice how Mam’s old shoes slopped about on her feet.
Number 4 was the second house on the left. Its windows were streaked with dirt and the tiny front garden was a tangle of overgrown weeds. Queenie took a deep breath, climbed the ten steps up to the door and knocked hard.
Footsteps echoed inside the house and Queenie heard locks being unbolted. Then a large woman with untidy orange curls opened the door and peered out.
‘Erm, sorry to disturb you, ma’am. Mrs Waters I’m after. Is she home?’
‘What is it you want her for?’
‘She needs a girl to help her with the housework and the children. Here, look, I saw it in the newspaper.’ Queenie held the torn paper advertisement out to the woman.
‘Yes, yes,’ said the woman
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