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Bill chuckled to himself as he heard Eddie turn the key in the lock. Wherever it was Eddie had hidden his money in the kitchen he wasn’t about to let him, or his wife, know about it. ‘Wise move, mate,’ Bill called drily. ‘Can’t be too careful. Winnie finds yer stash you won’t see her nor it no more.’
Garbled muttering was heard coming from behind the door, then a few moments later Eddie was back with a roll of notes. ‘There, take the fuckin’ lot. You’ve cleaned me out.’ He threw the money on the table.
‘Know what I reckon, Eddie?’ Bill grinned as he collected fivers and tenners. ‘I reckon I should’ve asked fer more because you could pull a grand out of this place if necessary, couldn’t yer?’ He shook his head. ‘Crafty old git.’ He retrieved the ring from his pocket. ‘There, have that, and a good leg-over later, if you let Winifred slip it on. She’ll be staring at that instead of the ceiling for a change, and fantasising you’re Ramon Navarro and she’s Tallulah Bankhead.’ Ignoring Eddie’s scowl he went out guffawing, one hand curved about the cash in his pocket.
Even before he’d heard the front door click shut behind Bill, Eddie was drawing his belt from his trousers. He was seething to have been forced to pay so much for the jewellery. He wasn’t happy either that he’d been forced to scrape together his nest egg in front of his wife; he now needed to find a new hidy-hole. Winifred would have the kitchen upside down looking for it as soon as his back was turned. But there was nothing left to find. Bill had cleaned him out, and Eddie never liked to be without a little bit tucked away. He sent a vicious look ceiling-ward, his lips flat against his teeth as he started towards the door.
Chapter Three (#ulink_f5e1d712-0f5d-5275-918a-0d0862e9c3ca)
‘Why didn’t you let me know you was coming?’
‘Wanted it to be a nice surprise for you.’ Lucy managed to shield her shocked expression against Matilda’s shoulder whilst giving her a fierce hug. Once she’d composed herself she looked up.
Lucy had last seen her mother many months ago during the Easter holiday and had thought then she looked rough. In the meantime, as the hot summer months had passed by, she’d prayed the fine weather would help Matilda recuperate in body and mind, rather than the heatwave exhaust her, for she’d seemed worryingly depressed even before Reg took off. But moments ago, Lucy’s optimism had dwindled. While waiting on the landing to be let in, she’d realised her mother was finding the simple task of opening the door an irritating effort.
Having lugged her trunk and a bag of shopping up the rickety flight of stairs to the first floor, Lucy’s light, teasing ratatat had drawn slow shuffling footsteps and muttered cursing from inside the room. Her first glimpse of haggard features, grey with strain, had been viewed through a narrow aperture and had made Lucy’s spirits plummet. Having identified her visitor Matilda had then found the energy to shove the door wide open and hoarsely whoop in delight. But despite her mother’s enthusiastic welcome Lucy was dismayed by her relapse.
Alice had sent a letter to Essex over a month ago to let her and Sophy know that Reg had done a runner. A long time had passed with no news of him, she’d added, so it seemed unlikely he’d soon be back. Alice had also informed them that their mother was still struggling to get about on her own and was stubbornly refusing to accept neighbours’ help, or to move to Wood Green so Alice could properly care for her.
‘How long you got off work?’ Tilly asked, gripping tightly at Lucy’s hands and pushing her back so she could study her lovely face. ‘Be a treat if you could stay till the weekend.’ Matilda’s customary gruff tone bubbled joyfully at the prospect of having her youngest daughter’s company.
‘I can stay, Mum,’ Lucy confirmed, a smile in her voice. ‘In fact I’ll be able to stay for a while ’cos I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘Good or bad?’ Tilly immediately elbowed free of her daughter’s renewed embrace and took a suspicious peer at her flat belly.
‘Well, I think you’ll reckon it’s good. I’ve come back to London to stay.’
‘To stay?’ Matilda parroted. ‘It’s true then what Margaret said.’ She frowned at Lucy. ‘You after a change of scenery or you got sacked?’ It was barked out indignantly rather than angrily. Of all her daughters, Lucy tended to be proud and impetuous. As a child she’d got into numerous scraps with other kids because of it. Not that Matilda had chided her for that. When you lived in the Bunk you brought up your kids to give as good as they got or they’d have the life bullied out of them. But her youngest could be a bit naïve at times as well as hot-headed. Matilda felt annoyed with herself for not pursuing the matter of Lucy’s employment when Margaret Lovat had first hinted at it, weeks ago.
‘Not got sacked, Mum!’ Lucy chuckled. ‘Got an interview for a job in Bloomsbury.’ She struck a hoity-toity little pose.
Tilly’s lined face softened in relief. ‘In town, eh?’ She nodded to show she was impressed. ‘More money, then?’ she asked, ever prosaic.
‘Hope so; ’cos of my age and lack of experience and so on it’ll all be discussed at the interview. It says so in the letter they’ve sent me. But if it’s a few shillings less I’m not bothered. I’ll be closer to you, anyhow. So even though I’ll be living in I can come ’n’ see you on all of me free afternoons,’ Lucy rattled off. ‘And I’ll be able to meet up with Alice and Beth. I’ll take you out places and we can have some fine times again. It’ll be like before I went away when it was just us two.’
After her other sisters had left to set up their own homes, Tilly’s maternal instinct, no longer diluted by being channelled four ways, had condensed and targeted Lucy. They had grown very close, and her sisters still referred to Lucy as their mother’s blue-eyed girl. The bond had survived Tilly’s volatile nature and heavy drinking, and Lucy leaving home to work in service.
‘And what if you don’t get offered this job, my gel? Bound to be lots of women applyin’ fer a position like that.’
Lucy shrugged insouciantly. ‘I’ll find another agency and go after another job. But I want to have a taste of London life, and I ain’t going back to the sticks and that’s final.’ She gave a crisp nod, setting her thick chestnut hair waving. ‘Not that I could go back anyhow ’cos I told that snooty bitch that married Mr Lockley just what I thought of her before I carried me case out of the back door.’
Matilda grinned despite herself. She liked to know that her daughters didn’t stand for any nonsense, and she recalled that Sophy had described the new mistress as ‘bleedin’ hard work’. ‘Well, you’ll have to get this job then, and once you’ve got it, you keep hold of it.’ Despite being overjoyed to hear her Little Luce was going to be close by, Tilly wagged a cautioning finger at her. ‘Good work’s hard to come by these days. You was lucky getting a job straight from school. And you got yer sister Sophy to thank fer that. You’ve never had it hard, so take it from me, being skint ain’t fun.’
‘Not renting the back room now you’re on yer own?’ Lucy had opened the connecting door and peered in to a dismal space that held nothing but an iron bed with a stained mattress on it, and a wonky tallboy that had a gaping hole right in the centre where the largest drawer should have been. She gazed enquiringly at her mother. Most people who lived in the Bunk and had a bit of spare space would rent it out. Lucy could recall that even when their rooms had been filled to overflowing with family members, Tilly would sometimes take in a temporary lodger for a bit of extra cash. Being the youngest, she’d usually share a bed with her mother and free up just enough space in the back room for another young woman to kip down with Bethany and Alice in the back. It was so unlike her mother to overlook such an opportunity that Lucy repeated her question.
Matilda shook her head. ‘Could do with the rent money all right but can’t be doing with the company.’
‘You can do with the company,’ Lucy disagreed, closing the back room door and approaching her mother. ‘Alice reckons you could do with a hand most days. If you had a lodger ... perhaps a widow or a spinster about your own age who could help out with other things ...’
‘Don’t want no strangers nursemaiding me,’ Tilly brusquely asserted. ‘So don’t think you lot are landing one on me. What else yer sisters been telling you about me behind me back?’
‘It’s not like that, Mum,’ Lucy said briskly. ‘We’re all worried about you, you know. Why won’t you go and live with Alice for a while till you’re feeling better?’
‘Has Alice told you to get on at me about it? If she has I’ll have her hide fer pokin’ her nose in where it’s not wanted.’
‘Alice hasn’t said more’n she’s worried you’ll take another bad fall and end up looking a worse state than you do now.’
‘Look a mess, do I?’ Tilly challenged with grim amusement.
‘I’ve seen you look better. In fact you looked better at Easter,’ Lucy immediately came back with an honest reply. ‘I expected you to be well on the mend by now.’
Matilda ignored that, instead demanding, ‘And I suppose you’ve all been having a chinwag about Reg ’n’ all. What’ve you all been saying about him?’
‘He’s done a runner and left you on yer own.’ It was a concise reply.
‘That’s about the size of it,’ Matilda agreed. ‘Ain’t talking about him neither. He’s gone and forgotten, and that’s that.’ A moment later she’d rescinded that vow. ‘You don’t seem surprised about him going.’
Lucy shrugged. ‘Last time I was here I could tell things weren’t right between you. You were both snapping and snarling more than usual.’
‘He’s gone back to Ireland.’
‘Back to Ireland?’ Lucy echoed, her eyes widening in surprise. None of her sisters had heard that bit of news as far as she was aware. ‘What, for good?’
‘Dunno,’ Matilda replied. ‘Yesterday I went up to Smithie’s shop.’ She sent her daughter a sour smile. ‘See, I can do the trip on me own, if I have to. Anyhow, I bumped into Reg’s friend Vince. He looked a bit embarrassed; don’t know why ’cos I never had a habit of questioning him about Reg. So, he just come out with it and said Reg had caught the boat back a few weeks previous.’
Lucy had met Vince a few times and thought him a weasely sort of fellow. ‘Perhaps he was just saying that, Mum, ’cos he felt awkward and wanted to nip off.’
‘Just said I never pestered him over Reg. Don’t matter anyway; let him stay in Ireland, for all I care. Seen him in his true colours now, ain’t I?’ Matilda pursed her lips. ‘Bleedin’ good job, weren’t it, we never did the “in sickness and in health” bit,’ she added bitterly.
Despite Matilda’s bravado Lucy could tell her mother was getting upset talking about the man who’d abandoned her. She and her sisters, along with most of Campbell Road’s inhabitants, were aware that Reg ought to have been at home with their mother on the night their evil uncle had turned up with murderous intentions. Nobody really blamed Reg for allowing himself to be waylaid by a pal for a drink in a pub; but then nobody blamed Tilly either for being unrelentingly resentful that he had.
That horrible night had been a catalogue of calamity for their family. On the very same night, their cousin, Robert Wild, Jimmy’s son, had been beaten up so badly by thugs that he’d nearly died. The disasters had been like toppling dominoes: one setting the other in motion. A shiver rippled through Lucy at the memory of the dreadful months that had followed when they’d feared Matilda and Robert might both die of their injuries.
Determinedly, Lucy cheered herself up and, to impress on her mum that she was definitely not returning to Essex, she briskly dragged her case in from the landing. She left the trunk against the wall but plonked the shopping bag down on the table. ‘Here,brought us in a nice couple of currant buns so let’s get that kettle on.’
‘Those from Travis’s?’ Tilly grumpily interrogated. ‘You know I only like stuff from the Travis bakery.’
‘Yeah, Mum,’ Lucy mocked in a dreary tone that transformed in to a chuckle. Like her sisters, she was used to Tilly’s deliberately contrary ways. ‘They are from old man Travis. The dirty old git don’t change, do he? Still stares straight at me chest when he serves me.’
Tilly opened the paper bag and her eyes lit up as a spicy scent wafted to her nostrils. It was a treat for her to have something fresh and tasty. To save herself the ordeal of a trip out, or the need to ask a neighbour for a favour, she ate little and made what she had last.
Lucy picked up the kettle and gave it a shake to see if there was enough water in it for a pot of tea. She pulled out a chair for her mother to sink into, for she’d noticed Tilly had been holding on to the table edge to ease the weight off her legs. ‘Sit yourself down again, Mum, and I’ll make a brew. Have you got any jam to put in these buns?’
Ten minutes later the tea was made and the buns split and spread with marge as Tilly hadn’t got any jam.
‘So when’s your interview?’ Tilly took a large bite out of the warm, aromatic bun. Any currants that escaped were picked from her plate and popped in her mouth.
‘Ten o’clock on Friday, Bloomsbury.’ Lucy brushed crumbs from her lips with her fingertips. ‘A Mrs Venner is the housekeeper and a Mrs Boyd is me senior. I’ll be seeing them both in Mrs Venner’s office. It’s a posh establishment, by the sound of things; belongs to a Lord and Lady Mortimer in Bedford Square.’ She raised her eyebrows, displaying pride at the prospect of working for the aristocracy. ‘Don’t suppose I’ll get to see much of them. The housekeeper and the lady’s maid’ll be me guvnors.’
Tilly nodded sagely. ‘You turn up all nice and tidy with manners to match then, my gel, and the job’ll be yours.’
Lucy grinned and delved into a pocket. She pulled out an envelope. ‘Should be mine, no trouble; if not, I’ll have Mrs Lovat’s hide.’ She playfully waved the envelope under her mother’s nose. ‘The housekeeper at me last job’s done me a lovely reference, don’t you know ...’
Winnie Finch thrust her son’s coat at him. ‘Get that on and get yourself off or you’ll be late for school, Tom.’
The boy grimaced as he gingerly stuck an arm in a sleeve. ‘Can I stay home today, Mum?’
‘No, you can’t. I’ve got me job to do, you know that.’ Winifred avoided Tom’s pleading eyes.
‘Can I stop home with Jenny?’
‘No, you can’t; she’s off out to find herself work.’ Winnie knew her son was still suffering from getting a belt off his father earlier in the week. Not that Eddie had intended to discipline Tom when he pounded up the stairs that night, face contorted in rage. Tom was his favourite and he rarely laid a finger on him.
Jennifer, the brazen little cow, had been his target because she’d defied him and poked her nose in while Eddie had been doing a deal with Bill Black. Winnie knew her husband hated any of them to see or hear what was going on when his associates called round. If Eddie could, he’d arrange it so Bill always turned up at an appointed time, rather than whenever he felt like dropping by with a box of stuff or, as he had this time, a pocketful of gemstone rings.
Winnie was aware too that the fact one of his daughters was turning into a little tart before she’d been out of school six months was less worrying to Eddie than knowing Jennifer had seen the jewellery. Jenny’s jaw had sagged open in the way Winnie imagined her own had done when she’d spotted those sparklers on the table. What she desperately wanted to know – and had tried hard to discover – was whether the lovely stuff was still in the house. Since that evening, Winnie had been through the kitchen with a fine-tooth comb and turned up nothing at all. She’d even accidentally dislodged a cupboard from the wall in her search and had made a very inexpert job of screwing it back in place. If the gems were in the house, and Winnie could find them, or Eddie’s stash of banknotes, she’d take herself and Tom off as fast as she could. The twins were old enough now to sort themselves out, in Winnie’s opinion.
Katherine was a good, hardworking girl – she’d been doing her little job serving in the kiosk at the local flicks the evening Bill Black turned up – and Winnie would feel a twinge at leaving her behind. But Katherine had a good brain on her and Winnie was confident she would eventually get a nice full-time position in a factory. Katherine talked constantly of training to be a nurse and Winnie reckoned she had the right attitude to see it through. As for Jenny, Winnie feared if she didn’t change her ways, she’d be hanging around on street corners touting for business from the likes of Bill Black. But, brazen as she’d been that night, Jenny hadn’t deserved the beating Eddie had given her. Her daughter’s legs were still black and blue, despite the fact that the blankets she’d dived under had given her some protection from her father’s fury. If Katherine had been home she’d also have got a taste of Eddie’s brutality because she always stood up to him if he set about her sister.
Jennifer’s howls had brought her brother running in from his bedroom and, though just six years old, Tom had jumped on his father’s back to try to protect her, and got a bash for his trouble.
Winnie helped Tom on with his coat, uncomfortably aware her impatience to get him out of the house was making him wince. It had been her job to stop Eddie’s rampage that night, not her son’s. Jennifer had deserved chastisement. Besides, whenever her husband was in one of those moods, Winnie always paid later ... in bed, and on that particular evening she hadn’t seen why she should have to put up with the bastard setting about her twice.
‘There’s an advertisement for an assistant in the Dobson’s shop window,’ Winnie barked at Jennifer, who was descending the stairs, hunched into her dressing gown for warmth against the draught coming through the open front door.
‘I’m going down the labour exchange with me friend later this morning ...’
‘Yer friend can go on her own. You go along to the sweet shop straight away and apply for the job.’
‘I don’t want to work in a poxy sweet shop. I’m gonna get a job in Oxford Street, in Selfridges ... or somewhere like that.’
‘You won’t be getting no jobs in the West End, miss,’ Winnie hissed at Jennifer. ‘You can give over with your fancy ideas and act a bit more like yer sister. Katherine’s had a job since the day after she finished her schooling. Time you got off yer backside. Now get yourself dressed and get along to Dobson’s and don’t come back without a job or it’ll be the worse for you.’
Chapter Four (#ulink_1ed44f96-c049-5975-9fa8-efc006a6b563)
‘Like it here, do you?’
‘Like having me here, do you?’ Lucy returned, equally sarcastic. She knew who’d spoken without taking a look so she finished leisurely positioning Lady Mortimer’s combs on the dressing table before turning to confront the woman behind her.
Lucy had just about had her fill of Audrey Stubbs spying on her. Since she’d started work at Mortimer House at the beginning of the week, whether she’d been brushing clothes or refilling scent bottles and cosmetic pots, the housemaid had seemed to materialise at the corner of her eye. Audrey could have been hovering on the threshold of her ladyship’s bedroom for some time before Lucy realised she was again being stalked.
‘Don’t make a blind bit of difference to me if you’re here or there,’ Audrey answered airily, lazily polishing the brass door knob with her pinafore.
‘Could’ve sworn it did,’ Lucy retorted. ‘’Cos ever since I started on Monday you’ve been on me back about something.’ She glanced past Audrey to check nobody was nearby to overhear. ‘What’s got your goat?’ Lucy demanded sharply. ‘I taken a job you was after?’ She’d stabbed a guess at the reason for Audrey’s animosity and seemed to have turned up trumps. The maid’s lips tightened and the malice in her eyes was concealed behind her eyelashes.
‘Let’s face it, if you’d been up to the work you’d’ve got it ’cos you was here first,’ Lucy pointed out with vague amusement. ‘Must be a reason why you was overlooked.’ She went back to the dressing table and picked up a delicate comb. She leisurely turned it this way and that. ‘P’raps Mrs Boyd ain’t any keener on you than I am.’
‘Think yer clever, don’t you? Coming here ’n’ swanking around, ’cos you managed to land a plum job. I’ve seen you eyeing up the men, don’t think I ain’t.’ Audrey had approached stealthily to jab twice at Lucy’s arm to gain her attention.
‘What?’ Lucy glanced over a shoulder, her features crumpled in incomprehension. She’d been used to getting attention from male colleagues when she’d worked at Lockley Grange. But there, or here, she’d never yet met one who’d interested her enough to make her stare back. Since she was a little girl she’d been told she was pretty. But all the Keiver women were lookers in their own way so she had never felt the need to boast about it.
‘If Mrs Boyd gets a sniff of how you’ve been carryin’ on with Rory Jackson, you’ll be out on yer ear, and serve you right.’
Lucy itched to slap the smirk off Audrey’s face but was puzzled by what the housemaid had just implied. ‘Carrying on with Rory?’ she echoed, frowning.
Rory was one of two chauffeurs who ferried about Lord and Lady Mortimer and their children. Apart from a bit of bantering at breakfast time earlier in the week, when they’d sat next to each other in the servants’ dining hall, she’d had little to do with Rory. They’d passed on the back stairs earlier that day, he descending and she travelling speedily in the opposite direction as she’d been told to fetch her ladyship’s favourite kid boots to be soled and heeled. The lad appointed to run to the cobblers had been impatiently waiting by the kitchen door for her return so she hadn’t dawdled, and had exchanged with Rory just a good morning. The most she could bring to mind about him was that he’d got fair hair, a pleasing face, and looked smart in his chauffeur’s uniform. Suddenly the penny dropped and she realised Audrey probably had a crush on him. Lucy raised her eyes heavenward in an effort to persuade her colleague there was no reason for her to be jealous on that score.
‘If you’ve got yer sights set on Rory Jackson, you can have him with my compliments.’
‘Not good enough for you, is that it? Proper full of yourself, ain’t you, Miss Keiver?’
Lucy huffed in disbelief. ‘What’s up with you? Look, I’m telling you you’re welcome to him. From what I’ve seen so far there ain’t one fellow here I’d walk out with, let alone pine over.’ Her tone was all mock sympathy. ‘Now, why don’t you sling yer ’ook so I can get on ’n’ do what I’m supposed to be doing ’stead of listening to your stupid prattle.’
‘I’ve met your type before.’ Audrey grabbed Lucy’s arm and jerked her around. ‘Butter wouldn’t melt one minute, then the next you’re round the back o’ the washhouse with yer drawers round yer ankles.’
‘Let go of me arm.’
‘Why, what you gonna do ... make me?’
As Audrey’s spittle flecked her face Lucy instinctively shoved a hand hard against her shoulder. Audrey tottered backwards with a grunt of surprise and ended on her posterior on the polished floor just as her ladyship’s maid walked in.
‘What the devil is going on here?’ Mrs Boyd barked, her round, bespectacled face a study of shock and disgust.
‘Lucy Keiver just pushed me over, Mrs Boyd.’ Audrey had immediately turned on the waterworks and was dabbing at her face with the pinafore she’d whipped up. She scrambled on to her knees and continued whimpering, presenting a picture of hurt innocence.
Determined to keep the disturbance, which had vexingly occurred on her patch, undetected until she’d had some facts, Mrs Boyd immediately hurried to shut all connecting doors. ‘Explain yourself, Lucy Keiver,’ she hissed.
‘I didn’t want this to happen,’ Lucy began. ‘I was just setting out her ladyship’s brushes and combs like you asked me to when Audrey come up behind and started accusing me of stupid stuff.’ She moistened her lips. She didn’t want to tell tales; at the Grange the servants had had an unspoken pact that, barring gross misconduct, they never grassed one another up. But Audrey hadn’t hesitated in immediately putting the blame on her. Lucy had not even finished one full week in her new job. She’d been growing to like it here too, despite having been put in the same dormitory as Audrey Stubbs. All she’d done was try to get the stupid cow to back off and leave her alone. It was her own fault she’d ended up on her backside, snivelling.
‘Accusing you of what?’ Mrs Boyd snapped, inclining stiffly forward. ‘Come on, out with it.’
‘She thinks I’m flirting with the men. She thinks I’m after Rory Jackson and I only met him Monday and haven’t said more’n half a dozen words to him.’
‘I reckon you’ve done more’n that with him,’ Audrey sniped, and narrowed her gaze on Mrs Boyd to gauge the woman’s reaction.
‘Enough!’ Clare Boyd had heard about Audrey being involved in a scuffle over a different male employee. Allegedly, she’d been found outside, smoking and flirting with one of the gardeners and a tussle had ensued in the kitchen with another girl. It had been Mrs Venner’s responsibility to sort that one out but apparently she’d let it pass because there’d been no witnesses to the fight and neither girl had made a complaint.
Mrs Boyd felt relieved that she’d had no hand in taking on Audrey. The housekeeper had been solely responsible for her recruitment. But Clare had been present when Mrs Venner interviewed Lucy Keiver and she had sanctioned her employment. Lucy had seemed to have an honest forthright manner – and an excellent reference from her previous employer – and Clare had believed she’d make a good addition to the household. She sighed to herself. In the old days, before the war, you could get decent staff, but these youngsters coming through were no good at all. They had no interest in anything but dancing, smoking and flirting with the opposite sex.
‘Don’t think it’s gone unnoticed by me that you have no business being here in Lady Mortimer’s chamber,’ Mrs Boyd snapped at Audrey. ‘The upstairs cleaning was all finished hours ago. And I believe it’s not two weeks since you were reprimanded for shirking outside instead of working.’ She looked from one downcast face to the other. ‘I’ll speak to Mrs Venner later and you can each explain to her your disgraceful conduct. Now get about your duties.’
As Lucy proceeded along the corridor she was aware of many pairs of eyes following her and a hush descending where moments before had been heard lively chatter. She pursed her lips and inched up her chin. Of course, the other servants had been gossiping over the brouhaha upstairs concerning her and Audrey Stubbs, and the likely punishments they would receive.
At the Grange, if Lucy had been given a ticking-off for some misdemeanour – and she’d certainly had some from her sister and brother-in-law – she’d have got sympathetic smiles from her colleagues. Not here. Cold glances and turned shoulders met her lonely progress towards the kitchens. Once she’d passed by she heard a few sniggers and her fingers curled at her sides.
She’d just had her dressing-down from Mrs Venner and had been told her punishment was the loss of her afternoon off next week. It had come as a bitter blow because she’d planned on persuading her mother to take a trip round to her sister Beth’s house. But she hadn’t felt it prudent to argue or even offer to have her pay docked instead. She’d simply bitten her lip and waited to be dismissed by the housekeeper.
She was the newest member of staff and had not yet made any friends amongst her colleagues. Prue Bates, who was the other girl sharing the dormitory in which she and Audrey slept, had been standoffish from the start and had marked her territory very clearly in the cramped attic room. Lucy considered most of them quite snooty for hired help. But it didn’t worry her; she liked her work, learning to care for her ladyship and her daughters’ swish clothes and accessories. She’d also fetched bits and pieces from the haberdashers and milliners. Lucy didn’t mind at all being an errand girl for it got her out of the house for a while. After the sedate pace of life at Lockley Grange the crowds and the bustle in London fascinated her. She’d walk along looking about and jumping out of her skin when hooting vehicles chugged past. Mostly the fellows were just impatient to get going in traffic but she’d noticed a delivery driver had done it to get her attention and give her a saucy signal.
