Chapter 19

When I reached the stable yard, Tom was polishing the Standard outside the garage. Not wanting him to see how upset I was, I composed myself. He spotted me instantly, and waved, and I went over to him. After what happened at the Old Fox, we'd seen each other a handful of times and I was thankful that things weren't awkward between us. I couldn't bear to lose my only friend at Gatley Hall.

‘Good afternoon, Mags, what are you up to?'

‘Hello, Tom. I was just out on a walk with her ladyship. She was looking for inspiration for a painting.'

‘What's she working on today, then?'

‘Well…' I said, unable to say that she'd be all alone with Luca in that cosy cottage – for hours, no doubt. I couldn't bring myself to tell Tom how they'd looked at each other.

‘Are you quite all right?' he said.

It was no use. I burst into tears once again. The strain of the past few weeks had caught up with me.

Tom took a handkerchief out of the pocket of his trousers and handed it to me. ‘What's the matter?' he said, looking at me, his eyes softening.

‘I'd rather not say,' I said, through my sobs.

‘Well, how about we take your mind off whatever it is? One of the tyres on the Standard keeps losing air and I need to go to the village garage. We can take a little drive – it might cheer you up?'

I hadn't been in a car for months, not since my friend Geraldine drove me to see Mother and Mildred in Brighton the previous summer. Petrol rationing had put a stop to any further trips taking place.

‘Do you think I'd be allowed to accompany you?'

‘Your mistress doesn't need you until later, does she? And you can always tell Mrs Willis you had to get something from the haberdashery.'

‘All right.'

‘Let's go on a little adventure, Mags,' he said, opening the passenger door and gesturing for me to get in.

Stepping down into the low seat, I saw the Standard was beautiful inside, all brand new with the sweet earthy scent of leather upholstery. Tom got in and slid a key into the ignition. The engine started, the brmmm sound it made rather thrilling. This wasn't a car that people like us would normally get to be in. We really were going on an adventure, albeit only to the end of the drive, but my mood soon lifted. The car purred as Tom turned out of the stable yard, doing his best to avoid the potholes. As we progressed up the drive, I admired the row of trees, their leaves shimmering in the sun like gold coins.

‘It's only a short drive, but we can have a cup of tea at Sally's while we wait, if you like?' Tom said.

Turning to him, I said, ‘I'd like that, thank you, although I don't have any money with me.'

‘I'll take care of that, don't you worry.'

Being with Tom made me feel looked after, a relatively rare feeling. Since Mother had gone to live with Mildred, I'd been alone in London, bold on the outside while slightly scared on the inside. Although I'd had colleagues and the girls at the boarding house, no one had been there for me on a bad day.

When we reached the village we drove along the high street, and, as we were in the Standard, passers-by stopped to look at us. He pulled up at Hart's Motorcars.

‘I won't be a minute,' he said. ‘You stay here, Mags.'

He got out of the car and went into the small hut that served as an office, and a few minutes later reappeared with a man in a boiler suit, sleeves rolled up and black oil smudges on his forearms. They squatted by the front tyre on the driver's side and exchanged a few words, before standing up and shaking hands.

Tom came to open the passenger door. ‘Let's go and get a nice cuppa. We'll have to leave the car here overnight, so hope you don't mind if we walk back to the house?'

‘The exercise will do us good,' I said.

We went to Sally's and took a table by the window. Tom ordered a pot of tea for two and a slice of Victoria sponge to share. The waitress brought it all on a tray and we tucked in.

‘This is a treat,' I said. ‘Thank you, Tom.'

‘You're welcome. It's nice to have someone to share a slice of cake with.'

‘Don't you have any friends at Gatley Hall?'

‘Well, I get on with everyone, but haven't been to Sally's with any of them.'

‘Who is your favourite person there?' I said.

‘Sam is a nice young lad.'

‘He is indeed,' I said. ‘Although I do worry about the way he gossips with Elsie.'

Tom raised his eyebrows.

‘They are related and you can't be surprised if they do tell each other everything. What can they possibly have on you though, Mags?' he said.

I couldn't tell Tom about my meeting with Luca, but sensed he might know already.

‘I try to give Sam a bit of big-brotherly advice sometimes, you know, what with him being so young. I was the hallboy before him and a footman took me under his wing.'

‘Oh, you have done well,' I said.

‘Mr Willis promoted me to footman rather quickly and then, when the chauffeur was called up, he gave me the job. It was a real honour – I'm only from a humble background.'

‘The war, despite its horror, does bring opportunities,' I said. ‘I can see why Mr Willis promoted you.'

‘Why's that?'

‘Because you're reliable and hard-working as well as cheerful to be around, and I expect Mr Willis could see that as well.'

‘Thank you, Mags. I do want to make something of myself. My father has been a cobbler all his life, and his father before him, and so on. But I don't want to be a cobbler. The world is changing, and, as you say, the war is bringing opportunities to spread one's wings a little.'

‘How old are you, Tom?'

‘I'll be eighteen on Christmas Day. I want to be an RAF pilot, although someone like myself might have to start off doing admin.'

‘A pilot, gosh, Tom. You would be spreading your wings, quite literally.'

He smiled. ‘My uncle was a pilot at the end of the last war, and he told me stories. Every year, on my birthday, he used to give me a model aeroplane and we'd make it together. I've wanted to be a pilot for as long as I can remember.'

‘That's very exciting,' I said. But at the same time, it was dangerous. If Tom fought in the war, there was a strong chance he wouldn't return. And I didn't like the idea of that.

‘It is indeed, but not everyone comes back.'

‘You are brave, and I wish you luck, although I'll be sorry to see you leave,' I said.

‘Thank you, Mags.'

‘I never wanted to follow in my mother's footsteps and become a lady's maid. One day, and I know it's a big dream, I'd like to own my own boutique.'

‘That's a big dream indeed,' Tom said. ‘And I admire your ambition, but women were put on this earth to get married and have children.'

‘Is that what you think?'

‘It's not just what I think; it's what's right. Women shouldn't get ideas above their station when their role is to look after a family.'

‘Oh, well…' I didn't know what to say to this. He'd squashed my dream in a matter of seconds. Was he right in suggesting that my plan would never come to fruition? Weren't things changing for women? While the men were away, women were taking up positions in factories and on farms and doing whatever they could to make up for the lack of men in the workforce. Would these women be satisfied with going back to having such limited options if and when the war ended? I doubted they would be, but kept my thoughts to myself.

When we'd finished our tea and cake, we left Sally's and walked across the fields back to Gatley Hall. The whole time we'd been out, I hadn't thought about Lady Violet and Luca once, but now the vision of them meeting came back to me. All I could do was try my best to shut it out of my mind.

When we reached Gatley Hall it was late afternoon and I needed to check on some of Lady Violet's garments in the laundry room.

Tom opened the door to the servants' quarters, gesturing for me to go first.

‘Thank you for taking me out. I rather enjoyed myself.'

‘I hope you're feeling more chipper now?' he said.

‘I am, thank you. Cheerio,' I said.

‘See you later, Mags,' he said.

He headed for the servants' hall and I went to the laundry room, where Sam was polishing boots.

Tom's determination and drive was admirable, and I hoped we'd remain friends for the foreseeable future. Life with him in it would be brighter, for sure. Although, when the RAF recruited him – there was no way they'd turn a man like him down in a hurry, unless he had a medical condition – it wouldn't be long before he left Gatley Hall, and then we'd have to correspond by post. I'd write to him daily to provide moral support, for he was brave, putting himself forward to take part in dogfights with the Hun in mid-air. The thought of him being shot down was terrifying and I'd need to pray for him before I went to bed each night.

Elsie came into the laundry room and threw me a look. I continued to arrange Lady Violet's undergarments on the rack.

‘A little bird told me something about you,' she said.

‘What's that then?' I replied.

‘I heard you met with that Italian prisoner of war down in the village on Sunday,' she said.

‘So what if I did?'

‘Cavorting with the enemy are we, Margaret?' she said.

Elsie was trying to get a rise out of me, and I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.

‘We just had a sandwich, that's all, Elsie,' I said.

‘I bet he tried to kiss you, what with that Latin blood running through his veins,' she said.

My face was warming and I didn't know what to say.

‘He'll be sweet-talking you into bed before long, no doubt,' Elsie said with a laugh.

‘Well I never, Elsie; how dare you suggest such a thing,' I said.

Glancing across at Sam, I saw he was brushing polish into a boot as if his life depended on it. So, he had told her. Although I was fond of him, I'd have to be more careful in future. But if Luca sent me messages via Sam, and asked him to write them, what was a girl to do?