Chapter 6

I got up off my suitcase and continued to walk. The rest of the passengers had now disappeared round the corner, and I reached a sunken lane with the roots of the trees visible. Their branches blocked out the light, creating an eerie atmosphere, the gurgle of a nearby stream running over rocks the only sound. When I reached daylight once again, the road curved round to the left and Gatley's church spire came into view. My stomach rumbled, and this spurred me on to quicken my pace, as I longed for a cup of tea and piece of cake or at least a biscuit on my arrival. Reaching the high street, I passed the sweet shop where Uncle Reg used to buy me barley sugar twists as a child. Shops lined either side of the street and I passed a butcher, a baker and a grocer. Opposite were a haberdashery and a milliner amongst others. Church Road was on the right before the church, St Andrew's, a grand old Norman building, and number fifteen was near the end of a row of white terraced cottages. The door was red with a semicircle of stained glass above. We'd visited my aunt and uncle at the rectory – a grand Georgian house with lush gardens bursting with flowers and trees that produced beautiful colours in autumn and spring – but this was the first time I'd seen her new home. When I gently rapped the brass knocker, a girl around my age opened the door, presumably Aunt Edith's maid. She wore a black dress with matching white collar and sleeves and had an apron tied round her waist. My aunt, whose grandfather had made his fortune in shipbuilding, would never live without help.

‘Hello, I'm Margaret and my aunt is expecting me,' I said.

‘Do come in,' she said, taking my mackintosh and hanging it on the coat stand. I put my suitcase on the floor underneath. ‘She's just waking up from her afternoon nap and will be down in due course. Would you like a cup of tea while you wait?'

‘Yes, please.'

The maid showed me into a sitting room where a fire roared in the hearth and a grandfather clock tick-tocked in the corner. A portrait of Uncle Reg hung on the wall above the mantelpiece, and a black cat was curled up in an armchair. A vase of white roses decorated the vast sill created by the bay window with a view of the church opposite.

Aunt Edith entered the room. A few years had passed since I'd seen her as, after Uncle Reg died and then Father a few years later, we'd stopped visiting. Approaching seventy, my aunt wore her grey hair in a neat bun, a handful of grips keeping everything in place.

‘My dear Margaret, how was your journey?' she said, taking my hands in hers and giving them a squeeze.

Aunt Edith had always been kind to me, although she could be overbearing. Mother found her a little condescending at times and they'd never got on particularly well. However, Mother, being a practical sort, was always prepared to overlook her opinion of others when it was to our advantage.

‘As good as can be expected. I hadn't realised the station was so far from the village.'

‘Oh, that's my fault. I should have arranged for someone to pick you up. Please forgive me, dear.'

She lowered herself into an armchair and gestured for me to take the one opposite. The maid appeared, adjusting the cushions behind her.

‘This is Lilian,' Aunt Edith said.

‘How do you do,' I said.

Lilian and I exchanged a polite smile.

‘Will you bring us some tea and a small bite to eat, my dear?' Edith said.

Lilian nodded and left the room.

‘There is no way I could manage without her help, what with the arthritis in my hands, which makes it tricky to do things in the kitchen. And more recently the gout in my knees has become quite unmanageable at times.'

‘I'm sorry to hear that,' I said.

Shrugging, she said, ‘Such is life. So, Margaret, your beloved shop was bombed and burned to the ground, I hear?'

‘Sadly, yes.'

‘But you're still in one piece, and that's all that matters. Your mother is relieved you have at last come to your senses.'

‘Thank you for allowing me to stay,' I said.

‘Well, it won't be for long.' What did she mean? ‘You'll have to sleep on an old mattress on the floor in Lilian's room, I'm afraid, as we are short of space and I can't exactly turf her out of her own bed. Billeting officers and evacuees from London have been knocking on the door all week, asking for a bed. It broke my heart to turn them down, but I've done my best to help place some of them by asking acquaintances at the Auxiliary Territorial Service canteen and in the WI.'

Lilian brought in a tray with a teapot and cups and saucers and a plate with two fingers of shortbread. She set it all on the trestle table and poured cups of tea for us both. So hungry by now, I took a finger of shortbread and wolfed it down in a rather unladylike manner. It was melt-in-the-mouth delicious, better than anything consumed in London in weeks. Aunt Edith cast a frown in my direction.

‘I see you're enjoying the shortbread. Mrs Saunders from the WI dropped it round this morning.'

‘How kind,' I said.

‘It's a very close-knit community here in Gatley and we all look after each other rather well.'

After taking a sip of her tea, she placed the cup back into its saucer, and said, ‘Now let's get down to the reason you're here. You'll be delighted to know I found a position for you this very morning.'

Unsure whether I was ready to start a new job straight away, what with my nerves being dented by recent events, I said, ‘Already?'

‘The Dowager Countess of Elmbridge, who happens to be my cousin once removed, is looking for a lady's maid for her daughter-in-law at Gatley Hall. Lady Violet's current lady's maid has gone to work in a munitions factory. Being only nineteen years old gives you an advantage over other candidates as there's the constant fear of one's employees being taken away by the government. I'm confident she'll give you the position as long as you don't make a hash of the interview.'

Lady Violet from the railway station. I could not believe it. She had seemed quite demanding, but now it made sense that the girl I'd seen wasn't dressed as well as a lady's maid should be. Clearly she'd been filling in for someone who had already left. Being a shopgirl at heart, with the dream of having my own establishment one day, working as a lady's maid didn't appeal to me. Mother had worked as a lady's maid in a house in London – that was where she'd met Father, who worked there as a carpenter. Mother had been eager for me to follow in her footsteps, ensuring I remained at school until the age of sixteen. She also arranged elocution lessons to get rid of my South London accent. When I went to work at Taylor and Stone, she was put out at first, but came round to understanding that working in a department store gave me more freedom than servant life.

My old room-mate Betty had told me about her experience working as a scullery maid in a grand house in Mayfair. Servants got no time off compared to shopgirls – one of the reasons why the upper classes were struggling to recruit as they once had. Besides, women were also being encouraged to do their bit. In recent years, it seemed, young people had discovered they didn't have to give up everything for their employers. Many servants, especially in London, now lived out, enabling them to have a life of their own. But I'd be expected to live in at Gatley Hall, and devote every waking moment to Lady Violet, with little time to see friends. And Betty had told me even friendships were monitored. In the big country houses you could only be friends with servants on the same level as you, and relationships with men were downright forbidden. Not that I was looking for any of that.

I didn't seem to have any choice about attending the interview for this position. Although it wouldn't be difficult to make a mess of it, that wouldn't be fair to Aunt Edith.

‘That's kind of you to go to so much trouble,' I said.

‘Not at all. We shall visit the dowager countess tomorrow, late morning. I hope you have something appropriate to wear, but do bear in mind that, as a prospective lady's maid, you must be prepared to not outshine your mistress. Lady Violet isn't much older than you and she is exceptionally beautiful, but still one must be careful.'

It had been impossible to see Lady Violet's face under the wide brim of her hat, but she had moved with the air of an attractive woman who was born into wealth. The thought of having to dress down grated as I was proud of the wardrobe I'd built up over the past few years, most of the dresses made myself from discounted material purchased at Taylor and Stone.

‘I'm sure I can find something suitable,' I said.