Tamar (12 page)

Tamar, who had never seen a flush privy, could not resist pulling the chain herself and smiled delightedly as the water swirled magically away down the bowl.

Through a set of semi-glazed double doors halfway down the hall was the kitchen. It was fitted with a massive Orion coal stove with two ovens, and had several general work surfaces, a spacious
pantry and a big table in the middle. Across the hall was the girls’ off-duty parlour, furnished comfortably but not as grandly as the salon. Behind the kitchen at the back of the house was a generous laundry with several tubs, a large copper and a hand-operated wringer for linen. Opposite the laundry was a small bedroom for the maid Myrna was planning to employ, and outside off the back porch was another small room which Sven would occupy, as well as an old-fashioned non-flushing privy.

‘Now for upstairs. I think ye’ll like the girls’ rooms,’ said Myrna proudly. Mounting the stairs they could hear the others calling to each other and laughing. All eight bedrooms had access to the balcony encircling the house, their interior doors opening onto a large space around the stairwell. Several sofas and a sideboard stood against the landing walls, with vases for fresh flowers. Also on this floor was a bathroom and a separate flush privy. Myrna explained she preferred the girls did not keep chamber pots in their rooms. ‘Doesnae do for the customers to kick over a pot full o’ piss in the middle o’ things.’

Tamar opened a large double cupboard on the landing and saw it was half-filled with fine new linen.

‘We’ll put the rest in tomorrow. There’s a hell o’ a lot o’ it,’ said Myrna. ‘Mind you, we’ll be needing it if we’re going to change the sheets between every customer. It’s no’ pleasant for a gentleman to be reminded o’ those before him.’

Polly darted out of a bedroom, grabbed Tamar’s hand and pulled her inside. ‘Isn’t it lovely?’ she exclaimed, indicating her new room. It was indeed a charming boudoir, decorated with yards of lace, chiffon and silk. The walls were a pale lilac complemented by green and violet floral rugs on a polished floor. There was a large wrought-iron bed covered with pillows and an embroidered satin bedspread, a night stand on either side, a chest of drawers topped with a fine lace runner, a lady’s dressing table with mirror
and small upholstered chair, and a big double-doored, mirrored wardrobe in one corner. The glazed French doors were artfully draped with brocade curtains and heavy lace. The effect was very pretty, feminine and opulent.

‘It’s beautiful,’ agreed Tamar with a twinge of jealousy. ‘It really is.’ She turned to see Myrna standing at the door. ‘You’ve done a lovely job of all this,’ she said admiringly.

Myrna nodded her thanks. ‘Well, I let ma girls choose the colours they wanted, and took it from there. The more feminine the better, I said to them. A man likes to feel he’s in a lady’s boudoir. Makes it more titillating. Would ye like to see ma private salon then, lassie?’ she asked.

Tamar nodded and followed Myrna up a steep and narrow flight of stairs to the belvedere room. Of considerable size, it was octagonal and had windows facing in all directions and a narrow set of French doors opening onto a balconette looking over St George’s Bay. Myrna opened the doors; the velvety breeze brought Tamar the salt from the ocean and she could hear waves faintly washing against the shore.

‘The sea reminds me o’ Scotland. It has a verra soothing effect,’ said Myrna as they both looked out towards the water. ‘What d’ye think?’ she asked, turning back into the room.

The expansive bed was of polished mahogany and covered with a heavy taupe damask bedspread with matching tasselled pillows and bolsters. Several oriental silk carpets with red accents covered the floors, and a sofa and two wing chairs, upholstered in the same fabric as the bedspread, were arranged facing the French doors. The walls were papered a deep, blood red and Myrna’s bedroom furniture was plain and dark but extremely elegant. There were none of the frills and bows which adorned the girls’ rooms below. It was a sophisticated room, clearly belonging to a woman.

‘How on earth did you manage to find a house like this?’ asked
Tamar eventually, sitting herself on the sofa and stretching her legs in front of her.

‘Och, I looked around but I couldnae really see anything that suited. I’d verra nearly settled on a place on Parnell Rise but it wasnae quite right. Overpriced, too. And then I was advised this one was going at a reasonable cost — probably because it wasnae finished upstairs, and no’ decorated inside. The man who built it, an Australian by the name o’ Willoughby, ran out o’ money before he could finish and went back to Australia in a bit o’ a hurry. He was a land speculator and went broke when the banks called in their loans. Been empty ever since. It was ideal for ma purposes, I could oversee the design o’ the girls’ rooms, and it’s in a good spot — no’ right in town but no’ too far away.’

‘It must have set you back, all this.’

‘Aye, it has. The decorating hasnae been cheap and the garden out the back has to be developed, but I think I’ll soon get ma money back. We’ll be opening next week. I’ve been asking around, discreetly o’ course, and there isnae another house as fine as this in Auckland.’

Tamar spent several hours helping Myrna’s girls unpack their things and rearrange their furniture. They were in a high state of excitement and Myrna had to yell at them when it came time to turn off the lamps, lock the door and go back to Mt Eden for their last night in the rented house.

Tamar only went to the house on Dilworth Terrace once after that, for dinner the evening before it opened; once customers started coming Tamar would be unable to visit without risking association with Myrna’s business. John Adams was there and everyone sat around the big table in the dining room and ate off Myrna’s fine china dinner service with her equally fine silver cutlery.

Tamar had received a surprise when she knocked on the door and none other than Eliza opened it. Her tall frame was still gaunt, but she looked happy and her customary sneer had been replaced by a wide smile that made her, if not pretty, then at least personable. Her hair was clean and tied back under a house cap and there was no sign of her earlier personal hygiene problems.

When Eliza ushered Tamar into the salon, Myrna said from her position on one of the sofas, ‘Good evening to ye, Tamar. And what d’ye think of ma new maid?’

Eliza blushed as everyone cheered, John and the girls a little rowdy and pink-faced as they had already had several drinks. Sven sat quietly, his large body parked gingerly on the edge of a sofa as if frightened he would break it, not understanding most of what was being said but keeping his eyes on Eliza.

By the end of the evening, John was decidedly unsteady on his feet and had to be driven home by Sven. Myrna sent the girls to bed for a decent night’s sleep before their first day of business, while she and Tamar sat talking in the salon for another hour. Myrna did most of this, focusing on her plans for the business. She had sent Sven, attired in a decent suit and hat, around most of the gentlemen’s clubs in Auckland with money to bribe the waiters to discreetly leave her business cards in places where they would be seen by prospective customers.

Patronage was by appointment only and she had already received almost a dozen requests for appointments over the following week. She knew by experience that after the first few weeks, word of the quality service she provided would spread and business would pick up even more. She was still in the market for two or three more girls but had decided to wait until she had a better indication of the level of demand; no sense in over-extending, she said to Tamar.

She was also pleased to have Eliza working for her. The girl had
knocked on the back door several days ago asking if Myrna had any positions. Myrna was preparing to let her down gently, then realised it was domestic work she was after. Eliza laughed and said she was well aware she was not in the same league as Myrna’s girls but she could make beds, wash linen and clean a house as well as anybody. She could also cook, although she would need some practice if anything fancy was required.

Myrna gave her the job, suspecting a position of responsibility and trust could be just the thing to bring out the best in Eliza. When she asked how she had heard about the new business, Eliza replied there was word on the street that a fine new house was about to open with beautiful young ladies catering for wealthy gentlemen. The street girls were not overly bothered as their clientele were not big spenders, but they were well aware of where Myrna’s house was and the type of service she was offering.

Eventually, Myrna said to Tamar, ‘Have ye heard from that Peter Montgomery then?’

Tamar went red. ‘Yes, I have … yesterday I received an invitation to lunch with him at the Thames Hotel. I’m not sure whether to go or not.’

‘D’ye want to?’

‘Well, yes. I
do
feel attracted to him, I can’t deny it. I think he’s a special person, he’s different, and I feel so sad for him.’

Oh, aye, thought Myrna, the man’s special all right. So special, here he is seeking the company of a woman he barely knows not four weeks after his wife has been put in the ground. She made a mental note to ask around her ever-widening circle of contacts about Peter Montgomery; she did not want Tamar involved with someone who may not be suitable. Then she sighed. No doubt she could interfere as much as she pleased but, knowing Tamar, there would be little she could do if the girl decided to form an attachment.

‘Just be careful, lassie,’ she said. ‘Will ye go by yeself? It doesnae bother ye being seen wi’out a chaperone?’

‘No, it doesn’t. I
am
a working woman, I’ll be eighteen soon, and I walk to and from work by myself every day so why shouldn’t I have lunch with a gentleman at a reputable establishment? It will all be in public view,’ Tamar said stubbornly.

‘Aye, it will at that,’ Myrna agreed reluctantly, a faint worm of apprehension squirming in her stomach. She had mothered girls for most of her adult life and she was having a hard time trying not to mother this one.

On the following Friday Tamar went to work in her one good outfit, a two-piece skirt and bodice in bronze sateen. It was without a train as the muddy streets of Auckland made clothes with exaggerated hems impractical, and had no bustle as they had recently gone out of fashion. The skirt had once had room for padding at the back, but Tamar had altered the length so she could wear it unpadded. Her salary had not extended to new clothes and she was making do with what she had.

Mr Ellis, used to seeing her wearing a practical mid-grey ensemble, told her she looked charming and asked what the occasion was. When Tamar told him she was meeting a gentleman for lunch, he raised his eyebrows but gave her an extra half hour.

At exactly midday Peter Montgomery arrived with a small posy of flowers, which he presented with exaggerated gallantry to Tamar.

They walked to the rather grand Thames Hotel on the corner of Customhouse and Queen Streets, Tamar’s hand resting proudly on Peter’s arm. When they reached the hotel they were shown to a table for two in the fashionable dining room. Peter pulled Tamar’s chair out for her when they sat down and, to her relief, ordered for them both. This was her first meal in such a genteel establishment and the combination of this and being alone with Peter Montgomery made her feel odd and more than a little nervous.

Peter selected the pressed tongue, followed by pigeon pie and vegetables in aspic, with a light trifle for pudding. He also ordered a bottle of burgundy and a brandy for himself while they waited. Tamar opted for a glass of lemonade. She could think of very little to say and did not want to mention Peter’s bereavement, so she sat in silence. From across the table he watched her, absently swirling his brandy around the bottom of the heavy glass.

Finally, to Tamar’s acute embarrassment, he said exactly what she had been thinking. ‘Miss Deane, I expect you’re wondering what I’m doing inviting a young lady to lunch so soon after my wife’s death.’

Tamar nodded, forcing herself to look him in the eye.

‘When I came into your shop to pay for the things for the baby, I was extremely upset and terribly rude and I apologise again. It was unforgivable.’

Out of politeness Tamar began to voice her denial, but Peter held his hand up. ‘I know I was. You were shocked, I could see that, and you were only trying to be sensitive of my feelings. You are a very compassionate young lady.’

‘Thank you, Mr Montgomery.’

‘Do I gather from your charming accent that you’re from Cornwall?’

When Tamar nodded, Peter took another sip of his drink. ‘I am an Englishman and have not been in New Zealand long myself, and I do not have many friends. I have acquaintances at the Northern Club where I stay when I’m in Auckland, but no one with whom I can share my grief. Afterwards I thought back on your kind words and felt appalled at the way I had treated the one person who had shown me kindness and sympathy. My wife was similarly a kind woman and I sorely miss her. We were so looking forward to the birth of our child. It was to be the first of many. Of course, there won’t be any at all now,’ he added bitterly.
‘But you reminded me of my dear wife, and I could not let myself pass up the opportunity to ask if I may enjoy your acquaintance under slightly happier circumstances. I am not yet over my grief, it has only been a matter of weeks, but I thought that while I’m in town on business you may allow me to spend a little time in your company.’

Tamar felt both flattered and terribly sorry for him; he obviously missed his wife very much and longed for female company. He was a handsome, vital-looking man but his face lacked the spirit and sense of life that had so moved her when he first came into the shop. His desperate loneliness was almost palpable.

She smiled. ‘I would be delighted to spend some time with you, Mr Montgomery. If we can arrange a suitable time, I’m sure we could walk through the park.’

‘Miss Deane, thank you,’ he replied. ‘You have no idea what this means to me. Would you think me too forward if I suggested this Sunday? I’m going home on Monday afternoon after my business is concluded and I would feel so much better if I could see you again before I leave.’