Poor Little Rich Girl (26 page)

‘Yes, I do understand that; it was the reason Miss Hetherington-Smith decided to end my employment with her,’ Hester said, ruefully – and untruthfully. There was no point in telling anyone more than was necessary. ‘But what about nannying, Miss Strong? I was advised to give my age as twenty-four when I first became a governess – I am not yet nineteen,
as you know – but from my experience nannies are usually a good deal younger than governesses …’

‘Not nannies, nursery maids,’ Miss Strong interrupted. ‘Of course some nannies are younger, but the majority of girls that you see in the park with their charges are actually nursery maids. It is not a well paid job and it often includes a good deal of housework and to be honest, Miss Elliott, most families would be embarrassed to offer such a post to someone of your obvious education and class. Have you ever considered office work?’

‘No, because though I used to type my father’s reports with two fingers I have no experience in the secretarial field,’ Hester had said honestly. ‘I have neat handwriting but I understand one has to be able to use a typewriter and to have some skill in book-keeping and I’m afraid I have neither.’

‘Oh dear,’ Miss Strong said mournfully. ‘That does rather limit us, I’m afraid. What about shop work? It is not terribly well paid – in fact, it is quite poorly paid – and you would have to look for lodgings of some sort, but you have a good appearance and a pleasant, unaccented speaking voice. The big stores are always on the lookout for someone who has pretty manners and an engaging smile.’ She rifled through the papers on her desk. ‘Now let me see … yes, Lewis’s want someone for their haberdashery counter. You would only be learning for the first three months or so, but I do think you might find promotion came quite quickly in such employment.’

Armed with Miss Strong’s recommendation, Hester had gone straight round to Ranelagh Street. She had been directed by a shopwalker to the upper floor but to her intense disappointment she was not asked
to attend for an interview. ‘We’re really looking for a girl of fourteen or fifteen to train up,’ the woman behind the desk told her. Her eyes swept Hester from the tip of her head to the toes of her shoes. ‘When a girl is your age, Miss Elliott, she is usually experienced in shop work. I take it you’ve not worked commercially before?’

Hester had been uncertain exactly what these words meant but explained she had been a governess to a small girl who was now to be sent to school. The woman behind the desk nodded her understanding. ‘And of course you are too young for most governess posts, yet too old to enter a department store as a beginner,’ she stated. ‘I advise you to look in the smaller shops where your appearance and accent would be very much in your favour and perhaps less experience is needed. Good morning.’

Despite her disappointment over gaining employment, however, Hester looked around her at the hurrying crowd with lively interest. It was annoying that she still had no job but she realised that her faith in Dick’s ability to help her was considerable. When he arrived, she was sure he would have a solution to her problem; he might even be able to point her towards some affordable lodgings. Huddling her coat round her, she wished it were not so cold and began to look forward to the moment when Dick would usher her into the warm picture house, so that her fingers and toes might thaw out as they watched the film.

Hester waited for two hours at the rendezvous, though she got steadily colder and colder and very rapidly became deeply depressed. Dick was so sturdily reliable that she had never dreamed he might not even appear. When she had at last given him up, she
still could not believe that he had deliberately failed her. There must have been an emergency at work, or perhaps his father was, indeed, more ill than Ben had imagined. Walking miserably back to her hotel room, she determined to go to Madison’s the next day to see if she could get news of Dick from his brother.

Next morning, she visited the shop to find it closed, with a notice in the window saying briefly that the premises would only be open on Wednesdays and Saturdays until the weather cleared. She did remember, vaguely, that Ben had said something about saving some of his earnings so that he still had money in January and February when Mr Madison would not need him for more than a couple of days a week, if that, but finding the place closed was still a nasty shock. Hester played with the idea of going round to Elmore Street, but once again her conscience prevented her from doing so. It would simply not be fair on the family to add to their burdens, and besides, the next day was Saturday and Madison’s would be open then. In the meantime, she must cease to rely on Dick – or anyone else for that matter – and find cheaper lodgings on her own account. With this in mind, she set off towards the Pier Head, thinking that she might find affordable lodgings near the docks. She guessed that there would be disreputable places which she must avoid but the speed with which her money was disappearing alarmed her. She decided that she would not return to the hotel until she had found herself either a job or suitable lodgings, or ideally both, and somehow, having made the decision, she felt both more cheerful and more optimistic. Surely
someone
would be glad of the services of a young and healthy person like herself?

*

By lunch time, Hester’s search had led her to the Scotland Road, an area which she had not previously visited, and for a while she forgot her own troubles as she examined the fascinating shops, stalls and barrows which thronged the wide pavements. She guessed that there would be flats above the shops but also guessed that these desirable premises would be owned by the shopkeepers below and unlikely, therefore, to be available for rent.

She had abandoned the Pier Head area hastily when she had been accosted by no fewer than three sailors, clearly looking for more than just a night’s lodging. But here on the Scotland Road, surrounded by women with large shopping baskets doing their messages, she was spared such embarrassment, though she was aware that passers-by eyed her curiously. Looking at her reflection in the window pane, she began to realise that she was rather too well dressed for someone wanting work of almost any description and decided that she had best explain her position to the first would-be employer she encountered, rather than letting an interview take its normal course.

Having made this decision, she then chanced upon Paddy’s market and, whilst examining the clothing on one of the stalls, had a piece of luck. The woman behind the counter, if you could call it that, saw her wistfully examining a respectable, though worn, grey skirt and jacket and was beginning to assure Hester that the material was of excellent quality and would last her for years when something seemed to occur to her. She was a tall, raw-boned Irish woman with sparse sandy hair and a merry, though almost toothless, grin, but her small eyes were shrewd and she suddenly stopped in mid-sentence
and changed tack. ‘It’s a grand suit, alanna,’ she said. ‘And isn’t that a grand coat you’re wearin’, sure enough? How’s about if we did a kind o’ swap, like? I’ll give you the suit and two shillin’ for that nice warm coat.’

Hester hesitated, but only for a moment. The coat was almost new and had cost a great deal more than two shillings but there was no doubt that she would feel far less out of place amongst these friendly but clearly working class people without it. She had seen a couple of notices in small dress shops saying that they wanted full-time or part-time staff, but had hesitated to enquire, feeling certain that her appearance would go against her. However, in the grey suit and without her smart felt hat, at least she would look as though she needed the job.

‘Well? What d’you say, alanna? Is it a deal?’

Hester pretended to examine the material as though in doubt, then raised her eyes to the Irish woman’s. ‘Two shillings is too little,’ she said briskly. ‘But if you will give me five shillings …’

‘Five shillin’! That’s wharr I’d charge a customer for a coat like that, seein’ as the folk round here aren’t made o’ money,’ the woman observed. She sighed deeply. ‘I’ll give you three bob, and that’s me final offer.’

‘Four, and that’s
my
final offer,’ Hester said firmly. ‘Why, you must know that this suit has been worn and worn, whereas my coat was only bought just before Christmas. So it’s four bob or nothing. And what’s more, I’ll want to try this suit on before I agree to any bargain in case it’s too small for me.’

‘It’ll fit you a treat, but if you’re set on tryin’ it out I’ll hang me curting over the stall supports and make you a bit o’ privacy,’ the Irish woman said.
She had clearly accepted that she would have to pay four shillings for the coat. As she hung the curtain around one corner of the space behind the stall, she added curiously: ‘What’s a well-dressed gal like you doin’ on the Scottie, anyhow? Fallen on hard times, have you?’

‘You could say that; I lost my job,’ Hester said briefly, struggling into the grey flannel suit. The skirt, which was pleated, fitted her as though it had been tailored to do so and the jacket, though a little short in the sleeve, looked both neat and respectable and was warmer than she had anticipated. ‘I’m looking for some cheap lodgings as well as a new job; I don’t suppose you know of any?’

As she spoke, Hester emerged from behind the curtain and the Irish woman gave a gap-toothed grin and held out two florins. ‘It fits you a treat, just like I thought it would,’ she said triumphantly. ‘D’you mind sharin’?’

For a moment, Hester wondered what on earth she meant; was she suggesting that they should share the skirt and jacket? Then she realised that the older woman was referring to lodgings. ‘I’d be happy to share if it meant that the rent would be cheaper,’ she said honestly. ‘Until I get work, I really have very little spare money.’

‘There’s a room-share in Stansfield Court off the Scottie,’ the Irish woman said thoughtfully. ‘It’s cheap, that I
do
know since me niece, young Maggie O’Reilly, has lately taken a bed there. There’s nowt provided, ’cept the bed and a blanket or two, but the gals manage all right and seem happy enough. Want to go round, see if they’ve a space?’

‘Thank you ever so much,’ Hester said fervently. ‘I’ll go round at once; who do I ask for?’

‘Ask for Mr or Mrs Maskell, ’cos they’s the owners, only they ain’t always in at Number 10 – it’s Number 10 where me niece lives – ’cos they owns Numbers 12 and 14 an’ all, but no doubt you’ll find ’em somewhere in the Court.’

‘Thanks again. I don’t suppose you know what your niece pays Mrs Maskell, do you?’ Hester asked hopefully. ‘Because until I get work, there’s only your four bob between me and the workhouse!’

She had spoken half jokingly but the Irish woman took her up on it at once. ‘If you’re that hard up, why don’t you sell some more of your clothes? There must be good stuff that you’re prepared to part with. That skirt you were wearin’ – the navy-blue – that’s quality, that is.’

Hester laughed and patted the garment she held in one arm affectionately. ‘I may well be reduced to selling my clothing unless I get work pretty soon,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m not thinking of doing so yet. How far away is Stansfield Court from here?’

An hour later, Hester was in possession of both a job and lodgings. She had run Mr Maskell to earth, finally, at Number 16. He was a small, pug-faced individual with red-rimmed, watery eyes and protruding teeth, half veiled by a straggly grey moustache. He also had a blunt, wide-nostrilled nose which jerked and quivered spasmodically as he spoke, reminding Hester of a white guinea-pig she had seen in the pet shop window.

He had been quite willing to show Hester the room and she had followed him obediently up three flights of dirty, narrow wooden stairs and on to an even narrower landing. ‘Here we are, then!’ he had said grandly, throwing open the nearest door. He looked
into the room himself then peered rather anxiously at Hester. ‘It ain’t much,’ he said, almost apologetically, ‘but the gals manage well enough and it is cheap – you won’t get no cheaper in the city centre, I can tell you. It’s rare enough we have a vacancy but now and again someone gets a live-in job and leaves, which is why we’ve a bed goin’ beggin’, so to speak.’

Hester stepped into the room, bending her head as she did so, for it was an attic room with a low and sloping ceiling. The window was at knee level and there were four beds crammed in so tightly that she could not help wondering whether the occupants kicked each other every time they turned over. The beds were all on the right-hand side of the room, leaving a narrow corridor at their feet. Against the window was a washstand with the usual utensils upon it, and beside the washstand a tiny paraffin stove. Above each bed was a short wooden rail upon which were hung various garments. Hester made her way to the window and looked out. Rooftops met her gaze and, far below, the dirty paving stones of the court. It was not an inspiring view and she turned quickly back into the room to find that Mr Maskell had followed her and was standing so close that she knocked against him as she turned.

‘Washin’ facilities, and there’s your cookin’ stove,’ Mr Maskell said grandly, indicating the paraffin stove and the washstand. ‘Each gal has a box – sometimes more’n one – under her bed, for her personal things, like. The missus and meself don’t interfere wi’ our lodgers so long as there’s no trouble, and the gals in this room is all good gals, which is more’n I can say for some of ’em,’ he added darkly. ‘So will you be takin’ it, miss? It’s half a crown, but seein’ as you’re norra local gal, we’ll say two bob for starters, eh?’

Hester looked doubtfully around her. The floor was bare boards, the bedsteads iron, and the whitewashed walls in sad need of re-painting, but it was clear that the girls kept the place as clean as they could, and anyway, it might only be for a few nights. At two bob, I can scarcely expect a palace, Hester told herself and took a deep, steadying breath. ‘Yes, please, Mr Maskell, I’ll be glad to take it,’ she said formally. ‘I’ll bring my possessions around tomorrow morning, if that’s all right with you.’