In Distant Fields (11 page)

Behind them the great house stood empty, deserted except for all the family's pet dogs, lying stretched by the fires, while below stairs the servants regrouped and planned their next attack on the rooms above them.

Wavell sat at the head of the table in the servants' hall, his mid-morning cup of tea nearly empty, his eyes on all the members of his company as they wearily conversed, some grumbling, some laughing, the younger ones, fresh to the household, still amazed by the pageantry they had seen over the Christmas holiday, the glamour, the decorum, the beauty.

Finally their commander rose from his position at the head of the table and with a nod to Mrs Coggle, his second in command, he went to do battle once more, his troops rising behind him, preparing to arm themselves with mops, buckets,
dusters, polishes and brushes. Moments later there was a frenzy of activity as they went into action, sweeping, cleaning, washing and tidying, returning the state rooms back to normality, so that by the time their superiors returned, their quarters would be warm, clean and orderly, with fires lit, brasses shining, leather glossy, and woodwork gleaming. Nothing would be out of place and nothing would be missing. Sets of clothes would be laid out for tea, shoes polished and paired ready, undergarments ironed, hairbrushes washed and put back in place, fresh soaps unwrapped and laid in hand-polished basins with shining taps, decanters filled, bottles wiped and set, glasses bright, and fresh cigarettes and cigars placed in silver boxes in the smoking room. After which Wavell, at some silent signal, would begin his inspection, finishing with a check on the settings for dinner, making sure the places were laid at exactly the correct distances from each other, the knives, forks and spoons correctly ordered, and the glasses placed within perfect reach. Then hands would be washed and inspected, fresh gloves would be taken, shoulders would be brushed, uniforms checked and straightened, and final orders issued for the next phase of the campaign, the body of household troops signalled into action by bells calling them to their various posts and finally by the sonorous boom of the great gong as it summoned all to the table. By midnight once again, the house would fall quiet, the nocturnal silence
broken only by the melodious call of Birdie, the nightwatchman, as he made his rounds, calling out the passing of another hour in the life of Bauders Castle.

‘What did you make of the hunt meet then, Miss Malone?' Tully asked Bridie when he found her. ‘Quite a sight, eh?'

‘It was a lovely sight,' Bridie sighed. ‘As beautiful as the dawn, and as fair as the summer, as my grandmother used to say.'

Tully stared at her. ‘I wish I could talk like you, Miss Malone, I do truly. You have a way of talking …' he shook his head in admiration. ‘Where are you from?'

‘Timbuktu,' Bridie replied, eyeing him and deciding she liked what she saw. ‘And where are you from, Mr Tully?'

‘You're not from Timbuktu,' Tully laughed, putting his cap back on carefully as if it was the most expensive hat in the world. ‘You're from Ireland, I know that – as I am from here. Here's where I was born and bred.'

‘And I'm from a part of Ireland sure you'll never have heard of ever. Did you ever hear of Galway?'

‘I did,' Tully nodded. ‘His Grace had a fine racer by that very name. Won four races in a row. A jumper. Lovely horse he was, and he was called Galway Boy, because that's where he was bred, and it's in Ireland. See?'

‘And that's where I'm from. Now if you don't
mind, Mr Tully …' Bridie stopped by a door into the side of the house.

‘Just Tully, Miss Malone. Tully's my Christian name – Tuttle's the surname. Tully Tuttle is my name in full.'

‘And sure how old are yous, Tully Tuttle, when you're at home? You don't look an hour over sixteen.'

‘I'm eighteen and a bit,' Tully replied hotly. ‘I shall be eighteen and a half in two months' time.'

‘Well, I'm much too old to be talking to you. Sure am't I old enough to be your elder sister, so?'

‘There you go again!' Tully exclaimed. ‘I never met a girl who could make me laugh the way you do!'

‘So you think I'm funny then?'

‘You are. Old enough to be my elder sister! I mean to say!'

Tully shook his head in delight, his eyes closed. When he opened them Bridie was gone.

‘Miss Malone?' he called after her, running into the house and down the long dark corridor into which he saw her retreating fast. ‘Miss Malone? You're not upset, are you?'

She slowed her pace to allow him to catch up, turning round to look at him with a prim and quite straight face.

‘No,' she said. ‘No, I'm not upset now. But I well might be in the future if you continue laughing at me.'

‘I wasn't laughing
at
you, honest, Miss Malone.'

Tully looked sheepish.

‘So that's all right then,' Bridie replied, gathering up her skirts, ‘Not that you'll have the chance.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I mean, Mr Tully, that my mistress and I leaves for London town tomorrow by the train so you won't be getting any more of your grand chances to find me so definitely amusing.'

‘You're going back to London?'

‘What else would I mean?'

‘I meant – I meant to say that what you just said was interesting news. That you were returning to London. I hope you enjoyed your stay at Bauders.'

Now it was Bridie's turn to laugh. ‘God bless us and save us,' she said. ‘And aren't you the polite one? As well as the funny one. Yes, thank you, Mr Tully Tuttle,' she continued, imitating the manner of her mistress. ‘I have enjoyed my stay greatly and look forward to many more such grand occasions.'

‘There you go again.'

Tully tried not to smile and they both fell silent for a second or two, Tully looking at her so hard that Bridie dropped her eyes. Finally Tully cleared his throat and took off his cap once again, to hold it and twist it in his big hands.

‘Bridie,' he asked nervously. ‘I don't know whether you have a lot to do at this very moment,
but I have nothing to do for a while – I've done morning stables,'

‘I have our packing to do, so I do.' Bridie didn't look at him. She stood staring at the ground, suddenly unsure of what to do next.

‘I have to go out in half an hour to do second horses. But if you could spare perhaps ten minutes?' As Bridie looked up at him he continued, ‘I could show you round the stables. I'd like to show you my work. Would you like that? That is, if you can spare ten minutes.'

Bridie found herself thinking that she would like that very much indeed, so she spared him more than ten minutes.

Tinker and Tommy Taylor were nearly caught in a fond embrace by Mrs Coggle, the housekeeper.

‘Who's that in there?' they heard her call, even though, once they had been made aware of her approach, they had been as silent as mice – which was what gave Tommy the idea for their salvation, since, were Mrs Coggle to discover the sweethearts, she would have absolutely no hesitation in demanding their instant dismissal. ‘Is there someone in there?' she demanded. ‘Because if so—'

‘It's all right, missus!' Tommy called back in the broadest of Midland accents. “S only the ratman! Need have no fear there!'

Pulling a hopeful face, he held up crossed fingers to Tinker, who by now had taken refuge behind the debris at the back of the cupboard, a
sanctuary she knew would be only too short-lived if Mrs Coggle opened the door and found Tommy standing like a lemon with his cravat undone and his hair all mussed.

‘Oh Lawd!' to their great relief they heard the housekeeper exclaim. ‘We not got the rats again?'

‘Just caught two o' the brutes!' Tommy returned cheerfully. ‘Would 'ee like to see 'em?'

‘Would I just!' Mrs Coggle all but shrieked. ‘You don't know me and vermin!'

A moment later she was gone and the coast was clear, allowing Tinker and Tommy to slip out unnoticed and make their way to a now deserted part of the sculleries where Tinker tidied Tommy up and Tommy did up the top buttons of Tinker's uniform.

‘Do you really think your brother will take you on in his garage, Tommy?' Tinker whispered to him, brushing the last lock of his brown hair back into place. ‘It's not as if you knows anything about motor cars.'

‘Dick says it don't take much learning, Tinks,' Tommy replied with a grin, unable to resist giving her one more kiss on the cheek. ‘You got such soft skin, do you know that?'

‘I should do, Tommy, You're always telling me. But look – look, suppose Dick does take you on and all, and we was to get married—'

‘Which we will, my girl. Make no mistake about that.'

‘I'm not marrying you nor no one, Tommy, unless I got the future sorted. Catch me ending in
the poor house. I'd rather stay here until I'm too old to do my duties than starve to death on the streets. Least they'd look after me here.'

‘Yeah? For how long, you reckon? Till your knees give in from all the scrubbing you did as a housemaid, or your fingers get all gnarled up like Molly Crabbe's did from all the sewing and stitching, till she weren't no use for anything. There's not much use to be had from a servant who can't do nothing, Tinks. So better by far to be married to me who'll look after you till your dying day, and that's a promise.'

‘Yeah,' Tinker suddenly agreed, smiling at him with real affection. ‘Yeah, who gives a fig about all that, Tommy? Long as I got you.' Reaching up, she put her arms round his neck and kissed him briefly but sweetly. ‘I do love you, Tom,' she whispered. ‘Honest I do.'

‘And I love you too, Tinks,' Tommy whispered back. ‘And I always will. Till my dyin' day.'

Now Tom put his arms around Tinker to kiss her once more, which he did equally sweetly.

“Ere!' came a stern voice from behind them. ‘And what you think you two lovebirds is playing at?'

Jumping apart like frightened rabbits, they found themselves face to face with a grinning Tully.

‘You do that again, Tully Tuttle,' Tom warned him, half amused and half furious, ‘I'll pull your stupid ears off.'

*    *    *

‘Sit up,' Cecil growled down the table at his daughter, who was sitting looking down into her soup bowl rather than up at her father. He then addressed his wife. ‘I have told you time and again, Maude, I will not have children of mine round-shouldered. It's particularly unattractive in a girl, especially a girl such as her, who is going to need everything in her favour if she's going to find a husband. Sit
up
!'

Elizabeth sat bolt upright, pushing her shoulders back in an exaggerated fashion.

‘And where the devil is Cuthbert?' Cecil continued, using his usual dog-training voice.

‘I did tell you, Cecil, he is seeing Hughie off at Southampton.'

‘This soup is almost as painfully thin as you, Maude,' Cecil bellowed back, determined to ignore any reference to Hughie's departure. ‘Take this soup away,' he commanded one of the servants. ‘This is fit only for the poor house. And you can tell Cook I said so.'

‘Cook is indisposed, Cecil,' Maude called down the table.

Cheeseman took his master's soup from the footman, rolling his eyes behind his back, while Cecil waited for the second course. Nodding to the footman to help him to more burgundy, Cecil turned his attention back to his luckless only daughter.

‘What have you been doing? Sitting in an attic teaching a parrot to speak, no doubt.'

‘I don't have a parrot, Papa.'

‘Still sitting about like a wet Wednesday.'

‘Elizabeth has been helping to repair the church vestments, Cecil. She is a fine needlewoman. The vicar is most grateful for her hard work, I do assure you,' Maude stated.

‘Needlework!' Cecil snorted. ‘Maid's occupation, sewing – that's what that is, a maid's occupation.'

All of a sudden he drained his glass of burgundy, flung his napkin down, preparatory to storming out of the dining room.

‘You have not finished your dinner, Cecil?' Maude called to him as he passed her by.

‘Have something sent to my study,' he replied.

Elizabeth looked down the table at her mother.

‘I wish I could go with Hughie to America, Mamma. Then I should not annoy Papa so much, should I?'

Her mother was silent for a second. ‘I wish we all could,' she finally agreed.

‘Maybe we all should, Mamma. Maybe we could run away together?'

They smiled in sudden sympathy at each other.

‘One day, darling,' Maude murmured, while Cheeseman busied himself at the sideboard, pretending not to have heard.

The following morning, Jossy drove Partita and Kitty to the Halt for Kitty to catch the 10.30 train to London. The two friends bid each other the fondest of farewells.

‘I wish you were not going, Kitty. I shall miss you so.'

Partita was wearing her lost-puppy expression.

‘It won't be for long,' Kitty assured her. ‘After all, the new term starts in two weeks' time.'

‘Yes, and after that you can come back up again for Easter.' Partita's voice was becoming lost as a whistle from up the line signalled the arrival of the train, which steamed into the little station, clanking and spewing as it signalled its arrival, brakes screaming and protesting, until it finally came to a stop.

Kitty climbed into the Ladies Only carriage, followed by Bridie, who immediately took out her rosary beads and started tolling them.

Partita stood waving to the departing train long after it had left the station.

‘Come on, Lady Tita,' Jossy grumbled. ‘You can't spend yer whole life at the Halt.'

The two girls were not the only ones to be happily anticipating the new school term. Now that all the excitements of the Christmas balls were over, and her house guests had returned to London, Circe was once more looking forward to going back to town, to enjoying her little circle of artistic friends, to attending the theatre and the new art exhibitions. While she loved her garden in the summer, in the winter, once a Bauders house party was at an end, there was really not quite enough to occupy her
intelligence, as a result of which she had often felt at a loose end in the early part of the year.