Poor Little Rich Girl (31 page)

‘I’m all right, really I am, Mr Fletcher,’ Hester said quickly. ‘I’m working in a dress shop on the Scotland Road and living in a lodging house quite near there. But what about Miss Lonnie? Is she ill? Is that why she didn’t attend church with her aunt? May I go up to the schoolroom and see her for myself?’

‘I fear not, Miss Elliott,’ Fletcher said sorrowfully, shaking his grey head. ‘I suppose you couldn’t know, but Miss Hetherington-Smith has sent Miss Leonora to a boarding school and no matter how cleverly the maids or myself question her she won’t give us any idea of the name of the school or even of the street.
Allsop, the chauffeur, thought he could find the place again but when he did so he discovered that it was all a trick. Miss Hetherington-Smith had made him drive the child to the home of an acquaintance of hers. After that, someone else, a taxi driver probably, took Miss Leonora the rest of the way.’

‘A
boarding
school!’ Hester said, aghast. ‘Oh, poor little Lonnie! But I suppose she will have sent her to some first-rate place where she’ll be happy once she’s settled down. Only … well, I can’t help wondering why Miss H has kept her whereabouts from yourselves.’

‘So do we wonder, miss,’ the butler said heavily. ‘Particularly since Miss Hetherington-Smith has been behaving rather – oddly of late. I dare say you didn’t notice, but Allsop has orders now, of a Sunday, to take her to the church of St Pancras, on Lidderdale Road, miles away from here, where she isn’t known. And she sacked Maud because she said the girl stared at her in an accusing way, and would very likely begin to plot against her, as – well, as you had done, miss. Poor Maud was very distressed, since she wasn’t aware of having so much as glanced at Miss Hetherington-Smith, but nothing anyone could say made any difference. Out Maud had to go, and then it were the kitchen maid, poor little oppressed soul, and there’s talk now, below stairs, of the mistress not being – well, not being quite herself.’

‘Oh my God!’ Hester exclaimed. ‘Miss Hetherington-Smith was always extremely mean with money so I suppose it’s quite possible that she’s sent Lonnie somewhere which is so cheap that she’s afraid of folk finding out. Whatever can we do, Mr Fletcher?’

Fletcher sighed and shook his head wearily. ‘Mollie, Mrs Ainsworth and meself have thought and thought
but the truth is, miss, we don’t know which way to turn. The reason she’s going to a different church must be because the vicar, or one of the congregation, asked too many questions or perhaps even criticised her choice of establishment for Miss Leonora. But unless we can find out where the child is, we can’t even write to her father and let him know what’s going on. You see, miss, we all know he’s the true master here though his sister is his deputy as you might say. And it’s wrong that Miss Leonora is being treated badly by her own flesh and blood just because her father is away at sea.’

‘There must be some way of finding out where Lonnie is,’ Hester said thoughtfully; she was so wet that the skirts of her coat were actually steaming in the warmth from the small fire in the hearth. ‘Bills have to be presented and paid … I seem to remember that Miss Hutchinson had access to some of the account books at least. D’you think she might help? I take it that
she
hasn’t abandoned St Augustine’s Church?’

‘Oh no, miss, she still attends regular, same as the rest of us,’ Fletcher assured her. ‘Whether she knows where Miss Lonnie is, I rather doubt. Miss Hetherington-Smith seems to trust no one – I feel quite sorry for Miss Hutchinson sometimes. She’s a poor creature, and being constantly criticised and blamed for every little thing that goes wrong is rapidly turning her into a nervous wreck.’

Hester thought, privately, that this would not be any great change; to her way of thinking, Miss Hutchinson had been a nervous wreck for years. However, if the woman was their only means of finding out where Lonnie was, then she decided that she herself was the best person to tackle the
companion. ‘Can you give me any idea, Mr Fletcher, of how I might get in touch with Miss Hutchinson without Miss Hetherington-Smith’s finding out? I might persuade her to take a look at the account books when her mistress is out of the way to see if she can discover to which school Lonnie was sent. Only I’ll need time alone with her; if I try to hurry things, she’ll just prevaricate and end up doing nothing.’

Fletcher frowned thoughtfully. ‘There’s Miss Hetherington-Smith’s bridge afternoon,’ he said, after a moment. ‘Miss Hutchinson used to play bridge as well but lately she’s become so nervous that Miss Hetherington-Smith refuses to let her join the group. So she’s taken to going off, on a Thursday afternoon, to the big library on William Brown Street. She changes her own books and those of her mistress and usually stays out until about six, when she comes home to change for dinner. You might try to catch her on her way to the library, miss.’

‘That’s a wonderful idea, Mr Fletcher,’ Hester said, smiling at him. She looked down at her hands in her lap for a moment; a question had been burning on her tongue ever since she had entered the room, and now she voiced it at last. ‘I wonder if you could tell me whether anyone has come to the house asking for me? I seem to have lost touch with all my friends and there was one in particular … We had arranged to meet a few days after Miss Hetherington-Smith dismissed me … I’ve often wondered …’

‘Oh yes, miss, there was a young gentleman come to the house a week or so after you left. Unfortunately, Miss Hetherington-Smith came out and sent him packing before I could explain what had happened. But that Mollie, she’s a good girl …’
Fletcher explained what happened between Dick and Mollie, ending with the words: ‘So as soon as the young feller is settled across the water, he’ll contact Mollie by letter, as they arranged. I hope we done right, but he were that anxious to get in touch with you, to explain …’

‘Oh, Mr Fletcher, you’ve taken a great weight off my mind,’ Hester said joyfully. She rose to her feet and began to put on her gloves and headscarf, which she had hung on the fender as soon as she had entered the room, and to button her coat. ‘I’d best be getting along, though, or I’ll meet Miss Hetherington-Smith coming back from church! I can’t thank you enough, Mr Fletcher, for your help; I do hope you don’t get into trouble as a result of speaking to me.’

She headed for the door as she spoke and Fletcher hurried ahead to open it for her, saying drily as he did so: ‘I don’t think Miss Hetherington-Smith could manage without a butler, miss, so I shan’t lose any sleep on that count! Now you take care of yourself,’ he added, as they walked up the hallway, ‘and don’t forget, this is only a temporary thing. When Mr Hetherington-Smith is back in India and can receive letters once more, I’m sure he’ll take command of the situation.’

As they reached the front door, Hester held out her hand. ‘I’m sure you’re right, Mr Fletcher, but I doubt that even Mr Hetherington-Smith could persuade his sister to reinstate me,’ she said seriously, ‘nor would I wish him to do so. But Lonnie’s fate is another matter. If she’s happy at the school, then I’m sure both her father and myself would be glad for her to remain there. But I very much fear that her aunt will have sent her to some cheap, inferior establishment
where she will be very unhappy indeed. And that, neither her father nor myself would tolerate. Goodbye, Mr Fletcher, and thank you again.’

Hester had barely crossed the pavement before she saw a tram bearing down upon her, heading in the direction that she wanted. There was a short queue of people waiting at the stop and, by dint of hurrying, she managed to get on board. It was fortunate that she did so, for as she settled herself in her seat she saw the Bentley draw up outside Number 127. As she watched, Allsop jumped out and went round to assist Miss Hetherington-Smith to alight and Hester thought, with a lurch of her heart, that she had been very lucky not to meet the older woman face to face. Had she left two minutes later … but it did not bear thinking about.

Next time I visit them, I shall have to keep a careful eye on the clock, she told herself, holding out her fare to the conductor. I really must see Mollie at some stage, though I’m sure if she’d received a letter from Dick, Fletcher would have known all about it. Adversity certainly brings people together, she concluded, taking the ticket the conductor held out. Because of Miss Hetherington-Smith’s unpleasant behaviour, the staff at Shaw Street feel like a beleaguered family. Oh, I do hope no harm comes to anyone as a result of my visit!

The whistle for the end of his shift sounded whilst Dick was engaged in a tricky manoeuvre, so he ignored it and continued working on the bunch of grapes which decorated the front of the dining room dresser, straightening up only when he had finished carving the last leaf; then he put his tools away, picked up the little canvas haversack in which
he kept his carry-out, and headed for the outside world once more. Climbing from the deck on to the yard, he saw that it was raining and turned up the collar of his jacket. It was Saturday noon and he was now at liberty for the weekend, though he thought, looking up at the lowering grey sky, that the month was well named – February fill-dyke – since it had rained without stopping for the past ten days. It did not look as though it proposed to ease, either, just because he was free of work for a couple of days.

‘Hey-up, Dickie!’ The shout came from a gangly youth clad in thin cotton trousers and a much darned jumper; Freddie Cox did not seem to feel the cold, Dick reflected. ‘You comin’ home now, feller, or is you off to see your mam and the rest o’ the family?’

Dick and Freddie were lodgers in the home of a Mrs Beasdale, who lived not ten minutes from the factory gates. When the Bailey family had first moved across the water, they had all lodged with Mrs Beasdale in Priory Street whilst they searched for accommodation to rent, but it soon became apparent that this arrangement could not continue. The sanatorium to which Mr Bailey had been admitted proved to be in Bwlchgwyn, a small village in North Wales and a far cry indeed from Birkenhead. It was clear that Mrs Bailey could not possibly visit her husband daily whilst they remained with Mrs Beasdale, but soon she was fortunate enough to be able to rent a tiny cottage in Bwlchgwyn village itself. From here it was a simple matter to visit the sanatorium daily, and to his wife’s joy Mr Bailey began to seem better at once, in the clear, clean air.

So now Dick and Ted were the only Baileys actually lodging with Mrs Beasdale and one or other
of them went off every Saturday, when their work was finished for the week, to spend the rest of the day with the family in the cottage, to sleep there overnight and to spend Sunday at the sanatorium. Dick envied the younger Baileys their village life, for though Ben and Phyllis had grumbled at having to change schools, they soon became thoroughly at home in their new surroundings, picking up bits of the Welsh language from their fellow pupils and enjoying a good relationship both with their new playmates and with their teachers.

‘Dick? Stop dreamin’, old feller, and tell me what you’s doin’ this weekend. If you’re goin’ back to the ‘Pool for a bit of a fling, like, I might as well come wi’ you. We could see a mat’nee in the afternoon, gerrus some tea, and then go to the Grafton Dance Hall on West Derby Road and pick up a couple o’ floosies, treat ’em to a fish supper if that’ll make ’em … friendlier.’ He looked hopefully at Dick, but the other was already shaking his head, though he could not help smiling at the thought of young Freddie hoping to bribe a couple of floosies with fish and chips.

‘No, not this weekend, Freddie. It’s Ted’s turn to visit me dad, so I’m not going to Bwlchgwyn, but I’m a bit worried about a pal o’ mine. She’s a housemaid in one of the big houses on Shaw Street. As soon as I got settled into Mrs B’s I wrote to her tellin’ her my new address, but she’s never written back. To tell the truth, she’s workin’ for a right peculiar old woman who seems to think the days of slavery aren’t past, because she treats her girls as if they’d just come off the boat from Africa. I’m wonderin’ if young Mollie ever received my letter, so I’ll be a deal happier if I can check up with her this weekend.’ He grinned at his young friend. ‘Otherwise, I’d be only too pleased
to tread a measure with some young floosie and buy her a fish supper afterwards,’ he ended.

Freddie fell into step beside him, his eyebrows rising until they almost reached the fringe of lank hair which hung over his brow. ‘And what would this Mollie have to say to that?’ he asked with mock severity. ‘How many young ladies do you want, Dickie?’

Dick shook his head. ‘Mollie isn’t my girl, though she’s a nice little thing,’ he told his friend. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard me mention Hester? She and me were pretty close when I lived in Elmore Street, but we lost touch. Mollie’s trying to get us together again.’

‘Anyone who believes that would believe anything,’ Freddie said sceptically. ‘Well, if you won’t come wi’ me, you won’t. But how long will it take you to ask this Mollie whether she’s been in touch with that Hester? Not the whole afternoon, surely?’

Dick admitted that it might not take all that long but pointed out that Mollie’s employer would not approve of her maids’ having gentleman callers, even of the most harmless kind. ‘So I can’t march straight up to the front door and ask to speak to Mollie,’ he explained. ‘I’ve got to hang around until either Miss Hetherington-Smith or one of her servants comes out. If the old lady is not on the premises I can go up to the front door, bold as brass, and if one of the maids – or the butler – appears then I can get them to take a message to Mollie. See?’

As he spoke, the two of them reached the jigger which ran behind the house in which they lodged. They walked along it, then opened the back gate, crossed the yard, and let themselves into Mrs Beasdale’s neat little kitchen. There was a delicious
smell of cooking in the air which made Dick’s mouth water. Hastily hanging their caps on the pegs beside the door and discarding their coats, the two young men made for the sink where they washed the morning’s dirt off their hands, faces and necks before heading for the dining room.