A Change of Fortune (6 page)

Pushing away the unhappiness, Jenny tossed the note on to the bed and began to empty the trunk. The school things wouldn’t be needed, so they could be left behind. She piled these in the corner of the room, and, without wasting any more time, she grabbed her good clothes from the wardrobe and shoved them in the trunk, not bothering to fold them properly. It didn’t
matter if they got creased, because she wouldn’t be wearing them again. If her aunt saw that she was packing, she might not watch her too closely over the next couple of days. The trunk was nearly full when the door burst open and her aunt strode in.

‘I’m glad to see you’re getting on with the packing. Whatever have you done with your hair?’ she exploded.

Jenny looked up from her task, her expression carefully schooled to show little emotion. But it was difficult because her heart was fluttering badly. ‘I’ve cut it in the latest style,’ she answered innocently, changing the subject quickly. ‘I’ve nearly finished packing, Aunt Gertrude. I’m taking only my best clothes.’

‘Your hair was past your waist and I don’t think Albert will like it short! Now, where’s your jewellery?’ Her aunt was pulling open drawers in the dressing table.

‘I’m wearing the diamond pendant; everything else is at the bottom of the trunk.’ Jenny didn’t even blink as she lied, praying that her aunt believed her and wouldn’t insist on seeing them. And she wasn’t the slightest bit interested in what Greaves thought of her hair!

‘It will be safe enough there,’ her aunt said briskly. ‘None of it is of much value, but you may as well take it with you. As Albert’s wife you will have only the finest gems.’

Jenny breathed a silent sigh of relief when she knew she’d got away with the deception. However, she couldn’t understand why Greaves wanted someone as young as her, and the question was out of her mouth
before she could stop it. ‘Why doesn’t he marry my mother? She’s still quite lovely.’

Aunt Gertrude snorted in disgust. ‘He doesn’t want a neurotic woman who would refuse to give him an heir. He needs someone young and biddable.’ She narrowed her eyes and glared at her niece. ‘You
are
going to be biddable, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, Aunt.’ Jenny had been considered quite an actress in the school plays. She used that talent now with a demure downward cast of her eyes. ‘He’s offering me a home and a secure future. What else could I do?’

‘Exactly! I’m relieved to see that one member of the Winford family has some sense.’

The rest of the day was agony for Jenny. She had to endure not only lunch but also dinner alone with her aunt and Albert Greaves. Her mother was still refusing to leave her room. She spoke when she was spoken to and listened with feigned interest as they discussed their plans for her. She even managed a shy smile or two, and wondered if she was overdoing the play-acting, but Greaves seemed highly pleased with her conduct – apart from expressing his disapproval of her short hair and ordering her to grow it again.

It was nine o’clock before she could get away from them, and, after receiving a kiss on the cheek from the repulsive man, she raced up to her room. After shutting the door firmly behind her, she locked it just to be on the safe side, in case they were staying the night. She hoped they weren’t, because she was due to move
into Greaves’s house the day after tomorrow. So little time!

She paced the room, questions and doubts running through her head. Suppose she couldn’t find a job that quickly – what was she to do? She was certain that as soon as she was under Greaves’s roof, she would be watched all the time. Her freedom would be gone. She wrapped her arms around her in desperation. A floorboard creaked under her foot and she froze in case her aunt heard her pacing around, but it was difficult to keep still. She must have somewhere to stay – somewhere they wouldn’t find her.

Fred and Glad! She scrabbled in her purse and took out the address they’d given her. They’d seemed sincere when they’d told her she could go to them if needed. She chewed her bottom lip. She wouldn’t want to bother them, of course, as they could ill afford another mouth to feed. Still, having the address was a comfort but she’d use it only as a last resort. She put it back in a separate compartment of her purse. She mustn’t lose that.

Kneeling beside the bed, she bowed her head and prayed as she had never prayed in her life. ‘Dear God, give me the strength to do what I have to. And let me find a job tomorrow … I’ll take anything – but please help and guide me. Oh, and by the way, Lord, from now on I’m going to be known as Jenny.’

The next morning Jenny was up at seven, before it was light. She had passed a long sleepless night worrying about the day to come. As each minute had dragged
by, she’d convinced herself that her plan didn’t stand a chance. How was she going to get a job? She didn’t have any experience or references. What if an employer looked into her background and found that someone called Jenny Baker didn’t exist? In the dark of the small hours it had all seemed hopeless. But she
had
to try.

The dining room was set for breakfast with silver dishes full of hot food on the sideboard, just as normal, but the smell of bacon nearly made her heave. She was relieved no one was around because her eyes were red from crying. The loneliness and fear she felt were awful, but she made a great effort to appear outwardly composed. Whatever the future held for her would have to be faced. She was about to spin the coin again, and fervently hoped it would fall as heads this time.

An hour later she was creeping along the hallway, her hair pinned back to make her look older, wearing one of her own dresses, with the old coat thrown over her arm. She didn’t dare to put it on in the house in case she was seen. If that happened, then questions would be asked. Her hand was on the latch of the front door when a voice called from the top of the stairs.

‘Eugenie! Where do you think you are going at this unearthly hour?’

Jenny stopped as if she’d walked into a wall. Aunt Gertrude! She turned slowly, holding the coat behind her, and gave what she hoped was an innocent smile. ‘I’m going to post a letter to my friends at school,’ she lied.

‘The servants will do that for you.’

‘I’ll enjoy the walk, Aunt. We always had a long walk before breakfast at Templeton.’

‘Disgusting habit,’ Gertrude snorted. ‘Well, if you must, then put on your coat. Albert won’t want a sickly house guest.

‘Of course Aunt Gertrude,’ she replied meekly. Then she shot out the door, slamming it shut in her haste, and ran down the street, not stopping until she was out of sight of the house. Only then did she pause long enough to put on the coat, as she leant against a wall and waited for her heartbeat to stop pounding in her ears. What a fright! On the rare occasions her aunt had stayed over, she’d never left her bed before noon.

Jenny drew in several gulps of air, welcoming the reviving coldness that filled her lungs, then headed up the road. If her aunt were staying, she’d have to sneak in the servants’ entrance when she got back.

A bus for Tottenham Court Road arrived and she ran up the stairs. After paying her fare she gazed out of the window as doubt assailed her again. This was crazy! She was crazy. She had been offered a good home, comfort and security. With head bowed she picked away at the frayed cuff of the coat with shaking fingers. But the price was too high.

Lost in misery, she jumped when the conductor called her stop. After getting off the bus, she stood and stared up and down the long road. Where to start? Jessop had said that the domestic agency was in this road.

By the time she’d walked up one side and started down the other, it was nearly nine thirty. At last she found a notice nailed on to a side door saying that this was Mrs Dearing’s Domestic Agency. The door was locked and there was nothing to indicate when it would be open.

She hurried into the haberdashery shop next door to ask the assistant if she knew when Mrs Dearing would be there.

‘Any minute now,’ she was told. ‘She’s usually arrived by now.’

‘Thank you so much.’ Jenny smiled in relief, and then noticed the shop lady studying her with a frown on her face. She left the shop quickly. Her accent didn’t go with the tatty coat she was wearing. It was time to act again; she would have to be careful not to slip back into her usual way of speaking. She tried to fix Fred and Glad’s voice in her head. She would have to try to sound something like them – without the cockney rhyming slang, of course. There was no way she’d get away with that.

A smartly dressed woman of middle years walked up to the door and put a key in the lock.

‘Mrs Dearing?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m looking for work. The servants I’m with said you might be able to help.’

‘Come in.’ She held the door open and walked up a flight of narrow stairs.

The room at the top was small, clean and bright. It
contained a desk, two chairs, a large wooden cupboard, holding crockery and a biscuit tin, and a table. In the corner she could see an ancient gas stove and a tiny sink. Everything was so clean it sparkled.

‘Sit down,’ Mrs Dearing said, as she removed her coat and hat.

Jenny sat down and waited, feeling sick with apprehension.

‘Now what kind of work are you looking for?’

‘Anything, ma’am. I know ’ow to be a lady’s maid.’ When Mrs Dearing looked up sharply, Jenny thought she might have overdone the accent.

‘I haven’t any vacancies in that line at the moment. If you’d like to come back next week …’

‘Oh, I can’t do that,’ she blurted out. ‘I’ve got to find a job today so I can start tomorrow.’

‘It is most unlikely that I can find you a place that quickly. Have you tried applying for a job in a factory, or a shop? That’s where most of the young girls want to go these days.’

Jenny shook her head, shoulders drooping in disappointment. ‘I must find employment with accommodation provided.’ Her attempt at a cockney accent had all but disappeared.

The woman sat back, looking puzzled. ‘Where have you been working?’

‘I’ve been with Mrs Patterson-Hay.’ It was the first name that came into her head.

‘I don’t think I know the household.’ Mrs Dearing was obviously suspicious now.

‘You wouldn’t.’ Jenny’s mind was working like a steam train. ‘She lives in Kent. They’re shutting up the house and moving to Scotland.’

‘I see. Do you have any references?’

‘The mistress isn’t there. She didn’t give us none before she left. The servants are packing up the house.’

‘No references? Most irregular. I certainly wouldn’t send anyone there for a job.’ Mrs Dearing stood up, filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove to boil.

‘I’m sure you wouldn’t want to; it was very hard work.’ Jenny was getting into the swing of this now. ‘Not that I’m afraid of hard work; I’ll do anything.’

Mrs Dearing glanced back at her as she made the tea. ‘Tell me what this is all about. You are clearly well educated and trying to hide it.’

Oh, help! As soon as she’d become anxious, the pretence had slipped. This was going to take a lot of explaining. Then an idea shot into her head. ‘My dad was a great one for reading and he tried to bring me up properly. But he’s dead now.’

‘Recently?’ She handed Jenny a cup of tea.

‘Yes.’ At least that was the truth.

‘What about your mother?’

‘She’s dead too, and after tomorrow I won’t have a job no more.’ Don’t ask me any more questions, she pleaded silently. I’m running out of lies!

‘I understand your need for a job, then. What is your name and home address?’

‘Jenny Baker.’ She had remembered that, thank
goodness. Then she gave Mrs Dearing what she hoped was a forlorn, pleading look, which wasn’t too difficult because that was just how she felt. ‘I lived in Lambeth, but with Mum and Dad dead that ain’t my home no more. When I leave Mrs Patterson-Hay, I won’t have nowhere to go.’

The agency owner stirred her tea, lost in thought, leaving Jenny to struggle with doubt. If she couldn’t convince this woman that she was suitable as a servant, what chance did she have? Tears burnt the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them spill over. She blew her nose on a delicate handkerchief, tucking it quickly out of sight before it was seen, not sure if this was the kind of thing a servant would own.

‘Drink your tea.’ Mrs Dearing’s voice was gentle. ‘You are obviously in desperate trouble, so I’ll see what I can do for you. The lack of references might not be a barrier these days. Servants are hard to come by, and families make allowances in order to keep them. Since the war ended not many girls want to go into service, and most now prefer the freedom of the factory or shop.’

Jenny sipped her tea, watching Mrs Dearing going through the files. That sounded hopeful for her. After about five minutes the woman sat down again, studying a letter, then she looked up.

‘The only thing I’ve got is for an under housemaid with the Stannard household. They need someone right away.’

‘I’ll do it.’ Jenny put her cup down and sat forward eagerly.

‘You’ll have to buy your own uniform. Can you afford to do that?’

Jenny was stunned by that piece of information. Just when she thought things were going to work out, this came up. ‘How much?’

‘Four pounds.’

That wasn’t going to leave her much. Jenny chewed her lip in worry. Thank goodness Fred and Glad had made the pawnbroker give her five pounds. She smiled. ‘I can manage that.’

‘Good. The lack of references is not in your favour, but I’ll write a letter to Mrs Stannard explaining your situation. She might agree to take you on for a trial period to see how you work out.’

‘I’ll work hard. I won’t let you down, Mrs Dearing.’ She sounded too eager, even to her own ears.

‘You’d better go immediately in case there are other applicants.’ She wrote the letter, sealed it in an envelope, then put the address on the front. ‘It’s in Bruton Street, Mayfair. Can you find your way there?’

‘Yes, Mrs Dearing.’ Jenny took the envelope and smiled again, but in relief this time. Perhaps things were going to work out after all.

The house in Mayfair was really elegant. It had three floors and a basement. A beautiful tiled path led up to a sparkling clean step and solid wooden door, with a brass letterbox and doorknocker polished to such a shine you could see your face in it. But Jenny knew servants didn’t go in the front, so she hurried round to
the back entrance. After knocking on the door, she waited, head bowed, praying that the place hadn’t been filled already.