‘I don’t know,’ Mrs B said. ‘Let’s not think about that.’
But Kate couldn’t stop thinking about what was happening across the Channel. She was carrying out her daily tasks but all the while her mind was occupied with thoughts of Philip, Fred and Archie.
Chapter Twenty-One
March 1915
Kate was on her own in the kitchen. It was mild for March so she had the door slightly open. She’d taken the children to school and put the washing to soak. She sat down to read Fred’s letter again, kissed it and then folded it neatly and placed it back in its envelope. She put it gently in her pocket and took out her sewing basket. The children’s clothes always needed repairing or adjusting.
Mrs B and Mary had gone to the market, so it was quiet as she settled into the rhythm of her sewing, needle in, needle out, the threads criss-crossing, the cotton pulled tight. Sewing was something they used to do together, she and her mother. If she had been at home now, would she tell her mother about Philip? She thought not; her mother would tell her not to be foolish, filling her head with hopes and wishes, instead of facing up to the realities of life.
There had been no letter yet from Archie. He’d said he would write as soon as he could but there was nothing. Perhaps he was one of the wounded that Sam had been telling them about? She hoped not. She tried to push the thought out of her mind. Philip hadn’t promised to write but she still hoped that he would somehow get a message to her that he was all right, through Clara perhaps? Was she wrong to encourage Archie? He’d gone off with a happy heart and, whatever the future held for them, she couldn’t let him go to war knowing that she was having doubts. Perhaps she should go to visit his mother and see if she’d heard anything? But what would she say? I’m the girl who Archie wanted you to meet? Her head was all of a muddle.
She carried the mended clothes back up to the children’s bedrooms and as she was putting them away, she thought aboutEliza and wondered how she was getting on, how married life was for her. She was sure that Tommy would be serving out in France; he wasn’t the sort to be left behind. Being without him would make Eliza sad but the thing about Eliza was that, however sad she was, she always found something uplifting and amusing to say. She could almost hear her saying, ‘Looks like you’ve lost a pound and found a penny. Cheer up girl, it’s scones for tea!’
She closed the bedroom door and walked across the landing and downstairs. As she straightened the cloth on the hall table, she inhaled the smell of lavender from the potpourri. The beautiful fragrance reminded her of the fields of home. As she entered the kitchen, a gabble of voices told her that Mrs B and Mary had arrived back with the shopping. Mrs B was all of a twitter and Mary was trying to calm her down.
‘Now, Mrs B, don’t take on so. I’m sure the mistress will understand. She’s helping out herself after all and so’s Miss Clara.’
‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Kate asked.
‘Oh, Kate, you’ll never guess what’s happened now? Mary is leaving us. She’s decided she wants to do something to help with this war. Get me some water, will you, Kate? I need to sit down. As if we haven’t got enough problems without you deserting us!’ She glowered at Mary. ‘And she hasn’t told the mistress yet,’ sighed Mrs B as she handed over her shopping basket to Kate.
‘What on earth do you think you can do? You’re just a slip of a girl. You’re not a nurse, are you?’
‘No, but I can do factory work, like my sister,’ Mary said. ‘She’s signing up to work in a munitions factory and I intend to join her. The pay is good enough too, she’s told me.’
‘Well good luck with telling the master and the mistress. They’re not going to be happy, leaving them in the lurch,’ Mrs Bowden continued.
Kate suspected that it was Mrs B who felt left in the lurch. Unless they could find someone else to fill Mary’s place, the work would be doubled for the two of them. She wondered how they would be able to maintain things as the Wintons would like.
* * *
Kate’s fears proved to be unfounded for a replacement maid was quickly found. She was sorry to see Mary go but life was so upside down anyway that the arrival of a new kitchen maid seemed a small disruption. Mrs B didn’t share Kate’s opinion.
‘We’ll be back to square one,’ Mrs B grumbled. ‘It takes a time to train a new maid and I don’t have the patience I used to have. I just hope she’s not a butterfingers, that’s all. Before Mary and Eliza, we had a girl who dropped everything she touched, she couldn’t seem to get the scales right when she was weighing out the cake ingredients and she couldn’t follow instructions for toffee . . .’
At that point Kate switched off. She’d heard it all before but once Mrs B was on a roll, woe betide anyone who interrupted her.
When the new maid arrived, it turned out that she was very young but a fast learner. Ida was tidy and precise and had what Kate’s mother called an old head on young shoulders. She had a small, round face with big round eyes and a turned-up nose that looked like a button. She scurried about the kitchen and had an uncanny knack of pre-empting what Mrs B was about to ask for. She was already on the way to the pantry before Mrs B had time to shout her next command. Even Mrs B had to agree that she was a very good find.
Kate and Ida were easy with one another’s company and Kate was relieved that she had settled into the routines of the household. Ida was shaping up to become a good friend too; she was cheerful and kindly and enjoyed sharing stories of homewith Kate. They both had younger sisters whose liveliness they missed, and older brothers serving in France.
‘Do you miss your family?’ Kate asked Ida one afternoon, a few days after Ida’s arrival. They were changing the bed linen, paying particular attention to folding the corners correctly. ‘When I first arrived in London, I felt homesick for my family and I missed the countryside, but I suppose you were born here and your family aren’t far away. You’ll be able to see them more often than me.’
‘I haven’t had time to miss them yet, there’s been a lot to learn,’ Ida replied. ‘I’m very pleased to have got this job. We needed the money badly. With Dad and my brother in France and there being three little ones at home, Mum was finding it hard to make ends meet. And they treat us well, don’t they, the master and mistress? My cousin Daisy, she warned me against going into service. She told me some dreadful tales about girls being mistreated and not given enough to eat. You’re better off down the factory, she said. But I like to cook, see, and Mrs Bowden, well she’s got to be one of the best to learn from, don’t you think?’
‘Oh yes, she’s a good sort is Mrs B. She might bark a bit sometimes when she feels things are not going right, but her heart’s in the right place,’ Kate replied. ‘Talking of Mrs B, I smell baking. That cake should be out of the oven by now and it’s time for tea.’
The clatter of cups and saucers was accompanied by general chatter about the changeable weather and the problems of drying the bed linen.
Ida poured the tea and Mrs Bowden smiled as she passed Kate a slice of fruit cake.
‘Our Ida made this mixture, her first attempt, all on her own. She’s going to make a very good cook,’ Mrs B said.
Kate took a bite and agreed. Ida could never replace Eliza in Kate’s affections but she was a good sort and Kate felt she could rely upon her. So, there was at least this one thing that was going right for Kate at the moment. She couldn’t allow herself to hope for more.
Chapter Twenty-Two
