The Country Bride

‘Of course.’ Mrs Wood rang the bell on her desk. ‘Aggie will show you to your room. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mrs Marshall, I have work to do.’

Minnie was about to answer when Aggie burst into the parlour so precipitously that it seemed to Judy that the maidservant must have been listening at the keyhole.

‘Show Miss Begg to the gable-end room, Aggie.’

‘Yes’m.’ Aggie held the door open for Minnie and Judy, closing it after them. ‘Follow me, if you please.’

Minnie came to a halt at the foot of the stairs. ‘I’ll wait here, Judy. I know what the rooms are like, and I don’t suppose they’ve changed much since I was last here.’

Judy followed the maid up three flights of stairs, which grew steeper and narrower as they reached the top floor. A narrow landing led between the attic rooms, one of which Aggie pointed out as being where she slept, and the furthest and biggest was Cook’s domain. Two of the smaller rooms were filled with discarded or broken furniture and items that might be of use if kept for long enough. The third was quite literally under the eaves, with a small dormer window throwing light on the bare floorboards, and a narrow iron bedstead set against one wall. There was a deal chest of drawers, a wooden chair and a washstand, complete with a jug and basin, both of which were slightly chipped. A candle stub in a chamber candlestick and a box of matches must have been left by the previous occupant, and the lingering smell of body odour remained like a ghost of the same person. As the jug was empty and the basin covered in a thin layer of dust, Judy supposed that the last woman to rent the room had not bothered to trail down to the kitchen to fetch water for washing. She could tell from Aggie’s tight-lipped expression that she was not prepared to wait on the lodgers.

‘I comes up here once a month to change the bedding,’ Aggie said as if reading Judy’s mind. ‘And I don’t drag up here with jugs of water, nor do I empty the chamber pot. You have to bring that downstairs yourself. You have to keep the room clean, unless you’re willing to pay extra, in which case you deal with me direct. D’you understand?’

‘Perfectly.’ Judy made for the door. ‘I’ve seen enough, thank you.’ She turned to Aggie as she was about to leave the room. ‘There’s no key.’

‘We don’t lock doors in this establishment. Mrs Wood is the only one who has a key, but take a tip from me and don’t leave anything valuable lying around. Things have a habit of disappearing.’ Aggie brushed past her and headed for the stairs. ‘You’ll soon learn,’ she added darkly.

Judy followed her downstairs. It was impossible not to feel downhearted and depressed by her new surroundings, but at least she had a roof over her head for the foreseeable future, and it was up to her to make the best of things. She was, after all, a born Londoner, and she would have to call upon the lessons she had learned when very young to cope with life in the metropolis. Even so, Judy had a sudden longing for the sweet scent of fresh air, and the tang of the saltwater from the marshes, untainted by city smells. Even in Sidney Square, with the neat garden at its heart, she had missed the sound of birdsong. The pigeons cooed and the sparrows hopped around chirruping incessantly, but there were no song thrushes or skylarks to fill the sooty air with their musical warbling.

‘Don’t tell me.’ Minnie looked up as Judy descended the last flight of stairs. ‘I’ve only been up there once, but I doubt if it’s changed.’

‘It will be fine,’ Judy said bravely. ‘I’ve seen worse, and it’s temporary. I’m sure I’ll find something soon.’

‘I do hope so, for your sake. Come with me now and Toby will see you back here after dinner tonight. By the way,’ Minnie added when they stepped outside onto the pavement, ‘if you want your bedding changed or if you need clean towels, you’ll get what you need much faster if you tip Aggie. It’s always been that way, I’m afraid.’

‘What happens if I do it myself? I’m used to managing the linen cupboard as well as making beds.’

‘I wouldn’t advise it, my dear. Servants can make your life a misery if they choose to do so, and you won’t get any support from Mrs Wood. She doesn’t care what goes on as long as she gets her money each week. Anyway, don’t dwell on that. I’m sure you’ll find a suitable position soon. Maybe my husband knows of someone looking for a trustworthy servant.’ Minnie linked arms with Judy as they set off in the direction of Sidney Square. ‘Might you even consider returning to Creek Manor, Judy? Perhaps your absence will shake Jack out of his complacent attitude.’

‘If he really cared he would have followed me,’ Judy said sadly. ‘He thinks I’ll weaken and go home, but that’s not going to happen. I am stronger than he imagines and I won’t give up so easily.’

That night in her chilly attic room, Judy tossed and turned on the lumpy mattress. It was obvious that Aggie had not changed the bedding, as the last occupant’s odour was imprinted on the cotton sheets and pillowcases. The rustlings beneath the eaves might have been nesting sparrows, but more likely they were rats and mice, and Cook’s snoring echoed down the narrowing landing. The sounds from the street filtered up to the top of the house. The rumble of wooden wheels on cobblestones, the clip-clop of horses’ hoofs, and the loud voices of drunks weaving their way back to their homes seemed to go on for hours. Judy longed for the comfort of her bed in the cottage, and the silence of the country, interrupted only by a distant bark of a dog fox or the hoot of a barn owl. Her pillow was wet with tears as she drifted off to sleep eventually, worn out by the events of the day and crippling homesickness.

She awakened next morning wondering why her whole body was aching, and for a moment she could not think where she was. Then the reality of her situation hit her with the force of a physical blow. But giving way to despair was not in her nature, and she was even more determined to prove that she could make a life for herself away from home. She dressed quickly and made her way downstairs, carrying the chamber pot very carefully, with the ewer tucked under one arm. The pump and the privy were situated in the back yard, and as it was still early Judy had the facilities to herself. She used the privy and washed in ice-cold water, sticking her head under the pump to rinse the dust and soot from her hair, wringing out her long locks and tying them back with a ribbon.

On her way back to her room with the clean chamber pot and the ewer filled with fresh water, Judy almost bumped into Aggie. A few coins changed hands and Aggie unlocked the linen cupboard, giving Judy a towel, but she stood back when she was asked for clean bedlinen. More coins landed on Aggie’s outstretched palm, and somewhat reluctantly she gave Judy two sheets and a clean pillowcase. With these hitched over her shoulder and a much lighter purse, Judy made her way back to her room.

The smell of hot toast and coffee wafted up the stairs, making Judy’s stomach rumble with hunger. It was many hours since she had enjoyed the delicious dinner in Sidney Square, but now she must face the real world, and that meant a choice between handing out yet more money for breakfast at the lodging house, and going without food until the evening. She had not yet worked out where or what she would eat, but she vaguely remembered stalls selling coffee and tea, baked potatoes and rolls filled with ham or cheese.

‘Ah, Miss Begg. I see you’re dressed and ready for the off.’ Mrs Wood appeared suddenly at her side. ‘It’s not good to go without breakfast, which is still being served in the dining room.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Wood, but I’m not hungry. I need to find work and that’s what I’m about to do.’

‘Oh, well, I suppose you know best, but this evening there’s Cook’s speciality for dinner. Boiled beef and carrots. I urge you to take advantage of our meals, Miss Begg. You won’t find such delicacies at such a good price anywhere else in London.’

‘Thank you, ma’am. I’ll think about it.’ Judy made her escape and rushed out into the street. She stood on the pavement, looking this way and that, but she had no idea which direction to take. Jack would have tossed a coin – the memory of him brought a smile to her lips and a lump to her throat. ‘Follow your nose,’ her mother would have said. Judy turned to the left and walked to the end of Fieldgate Street, finding herself in the busy thoroughfare of Whitechapel Road. Slowly memories of childhood began to emerge and she recognised places she had frequented. The street was chaotic with horse-drawn traffic of all types from omnibuses to brewers’ drays, removal carts, hansom cabs and growlers. It all came flooding back now: the dreadful poverty of Green Dragon Yard and, despite her parents’ best efforts, the hand-to-mouth existence they had endured before the accident that had changed their lives for ever.

A wave of nausea made her gasp and suddenly the world seemed to spin around her in concentric circles. Judy clutched at nothing but thin air and felt herself falling …

Chapter Three

‘Oy! Look where you’re going, you silly mare.’

The irate voice brought Judy back from the realms of semi-consciousness and she realised that she was clinging to a woman’s arm.

‘I’m so sorry. I felt a bit faint.’

‘Probably drunk,’ the woman’s partner said angrily. ‘At this time in the morning, too. Shame on you, miss.’

Judy staggered to the nearest shopfront and leaned against the door. Was everyone in London rude and mean? If that had occurred in Little Creek, someone would have helped her and taken her into their home. She would have been offered tea and something to eat, even if they had very little themselves. The hunger pangs were another reminder of her childhood. She had roamed these streets looking for farthings or halfpennies that might have been dropped by more affluent people, and she had snatched up bruised fruit that had fallen off costermongers’ barrows to take home for Molly and the boys. Those days were far behind her now, but an empty stomach felt the same whatever her age.

The scent of hot tea and coffee floated past on a gentle breeze, blotting out the less pleasant smells of the city, and as her mother had always said, Judy followed her nose. The stall was set up in a narrow alleyway and she bought a ham roll and a mug of coffee laced with sugar. The vendor had taken pity on her and had given her a broken biscuit as well, and she gobbled the food in a way that would have earned her a sharp rebuke from her mother or from Cook at Creek Manor, but she was too hungry to care. The hot, sweet coffee went down well and she handed the empty mug back and thanked the stallholder for his generosity.

‘You’re welcome, miss,’ he said, grinning. ‘You was half-starved by the look of you.’

She smiled. ‘I used to live near here, but I’ve been away in the country for a long time.’

‘Looking for work, are you, love?’

‘Yes, how did you guess?’

‘I see many like you every day. Folk come up from the country thinking that the streets are paved with gold, like in the storybook, but they ain’t. You ought to go back to the country and settle for what you had, miss.’

‘I do need work, but I don’t know how to set about it.’

‘You could look in shop windows. Sometimes people put cards in, advertising vacancies, but you need to be careful what you go for. Or you could look in the posh newspaper.’ He leaned over and picked up a tattered copy of The Times that someone had carelessly discarded. ‘Take a look in the “Situations Vacant” column. You seem like a well-spoken young lady. Maybe you’ll find something there.’

‘Thank you,’ Judy said eagerly. ‘I’ll read it and return it to you.’

He chuckled. ‘Don’t bother, love. I never learned to read proper. I can write me name, and that’s about it. You keep it and good luck to you.’

Judy folded the newspaper and tucked it under her arm. She remembered the churchyard of St Mary Matfelon, where she used to play hide-and-seek with Molly, although at seven years old, Molly had always given herself away by giggling, and it was there that Judy headed. At least it was quiet and peaceful in the graveyard. She sat down on a low wall to read the advertisements in The Times, but there was nothing remotely suitable, so she resumed her walk, gazing in shop windows to see if there was anything for her.

At the end of the afternoon Judy had walked so far that her heels were blistered and sore, and her limbs ached so that each step was torture. She managed to get back to Fieldgate Street, but she had not eaten since the ham roll and coffee that morning, and she was ravenous. Aggie let her in, but as luck would have it Judy almost cannoned into Mrs Wood at the foot of the stairs.

‘Well, you look as if you’ve had a hard day, Miss Begg.’ Mrs Wood did not sound sympathetic. ‘It’s not as easy as you would think, is it?’

‘No, ma’am.’ Judy was not in the mood to argue.

‘Do I take it that you will be having your evening meal in the dining room?’

‘Thank you.’ Judy was tempted to refuse, but she was too tired to go out again, and it had started to rain. ‘I will.’

‘Excellent.’ Mrs Wood beamed at her. ‘I’ll put it on your bill. I expect payment first thing each Saturday morning.’

‘But I’ve already given you a week in advance.’

‘That will be returned to you when you leave this establishment. I have to do that, Miss Begg. You’d be surprised how many people are prepared to walk away without settling their debts.’

Judy nodded. There was no point in protesting and she started up the staircase, holding on to the banister rail.

‘Dinner is at half past six on the dot,’ Mrs Wood called after her. ‘Latecomers do not get served. I have to have rules or people would take advantage of my good nature.’

‘I’ll be on time,’ Judy said wearily as she trudged up the stairs, heading towards the cheerless room that was now her home.

At six thirty on the dot, Judy walked into the dining room. She had kept her bedroom door ajar in order to listen for the booming strikes of the grandfather clock in the hall indicating the passing hours, and the chimes that announced the quarters. The other diners were already seated at a table in the centre of the room, except for two much older women who shared a small table in the window. Judy hesitated, not wanting to take anyone’s place.

A thin woman in her thirties patted the empty chair beside her. ‘This one’s free, love. Miss Wentworth left yesterday and she won’t be coming back. I’m Phyllis Dean, by the way.’

Judy smiled. ‘Judy Begg.’

‘Wentworth is the lucky one. She’s found a man to marry her.’ A younger woman with mousy hair and freckles gave Judy a weak smile. ‘I’m Mabel Field. You’re new here, Judy.’

‘I arrived yesterday.’ Judy sat down beside Phyllis. ‘I’m looking for work.’

‘It’s not easy to find a job where the boss doesn’t expect you to stay after hours, if you get my meaning.’ A strikingly pretty girl snatched up a bread roll and tore it into small pieces, shoving them into her mouth one after the other. ‘I’m blooming starving. Where’s the damn food?’

‘Don’t take any notice of Fanny,’ Mabel said, giggling. ‘She don’t mean half of what she says.’

Before Fanny could respond, which would have been difficult anyway, considering the amount of bread she had stuffed into her mouth, the door opened and Aggie staggered in carrying a large tureen, which she placed in the centre of the table. She picked up a pile of soup bowls from the dresser and put them in front of Phyllis.

‘Help yourselves.’ Aggie left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Fanny chewed and swallowed the last mouthful of bread roll. ‘That person needs to learn some manners.’

‘Have a heart, Fanny.’ Mabel reached for a plate. ‘I wouldn’t like to work for Mrs Wood. I’m sure she bullies poor Aggie.’

‘Never mind her. I could eat the carpet I’m so damn hungry.’ Fanny elbowed her out of the way, grabbed a bowl and helped herself to the thick slices of boiled beef and chunks of carrot in a thin gravy. ‘I hope this tastes better than it smells. I think the ox died of shame.’

Phyllis stood up, filled two bowls and took them to the two older ladies, who were chatting to each other in low voices. ‘There you are ladies. Enjoy your meal.’ She returned to her seat. ‘Best help yourself, Judy. These gannets will devour the lot while you’re sitting there being polite.’ She passed a bowl to Judy before serving herself. ‘Take a roll before they all go, too.’

Judy concentrated on her food. It was not good, but at least it was edible and she was too hungry to be fussy. There was silence while everyone demolished their meal, and it seemed to Judy that she was not the only one who was starving.

Phyllis piled up the empty bowls and rang the bell for Aggie, who cleared the table and they had to wait until she returned with a treacle pudding and a jug of custard.

‘It’s not bad for ninepence,’ Phyllis said as she finished her portion. ‘I’ve tasted better, but at least it’s filling.’

‘Yes, I agree with that.’ Judy stared at the two older women. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Who are those ladies, Phyllis? And why do they sit on their own?’

‘They’ve been residents here for years, and they’re quite nice when you get to know them, but they keep themselves to themselves, and that’s fine with me.’

‘Have you lived here long?’ Judy asked in a low voice.

Phyllis gave her a pitying look. ‘I’m thirty-five – well and truly on the shelf. What choice do I have?’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’

Mabel stood up and stretched. ‘I reckon I’ll go for a walk. I can’t face a whole evening in that dreary front parlour. Are you coming, Phyllis?’

‘No, love. I’ve got a pile of books to mark. My pupils keep me so busy that I don’t have time to do it in school.’

‘Where do you teach?’ Judy’s interest was aroused. Maybe she could help in the school, if they were willing to pay her a wage.

‘It’s the ragged school in George Yard,’ Phyllis said, sighing. ‘Poor little devils, half of them turn up barefoot, even in the winter. If I can teach them to read and write and add up, I’m doing well, but most of them are put to work by their parents, if they have any. It’s time the Government stepped in and made education compulsory, at least for those under the age of ten. It’s heartbreaking to see little ones on the street selling matches or bootlaces.’

‘Or, even worse, ending up picking pockets,’ Mabel added, shaking her head. ‘I’ve seen mothers selling their little daughters to old men for their pleasure. You learn to be thankful for what you’ve got.’

Fanny pulled a face. ‘I’m tired of being grateful for everything. I want to marry a rich man who’ll pamper me and shower me with gifts, and I’ll never have to work in that bakery again.’

‘At least you get free cake,’ Mabel said, patting her flat belly. ‘I’d be fat as a pig if I was let loose amongst the pies and pastries.’

‘We get the sack if we so much as lick our fingers.’ Fanny tossed her head. ‘No chance of getting podgy when you work for old Sour Puss. Anyway, I’m meeting Ronnie in ten minutes so I’d better go upstairs and make myself presentable.’ She hurried from the room, leaving a waft of lavender cologne in her wake.

‘Let’s hope Ronnie comes up to scratch,’ Mabel said, pursing her lips. ‘Poor Fanny has been let down too many times in the past.’

‘She’ll bounce back; she always does.’ Phyllis headed for the door. ‘Must go and get those books marked. Good night, Judy. I’ll see you at breakfast.’

‘Maybe,’ Judy said doubtfully. The cost of the meals did not sound much if said quickly, but added up over a month it would come to a tidy sum, and unless she could find work she might be forced to return home.

‘It’s always hard at first, love.’ Mabel reached out to give Judy’s back a gentle pat.

She stood aside as the two older women made for the door. One of them gave Judy a nod, but her friend walked on without acknowledging either Judy or Mabel.

‘Don’t take no notice of them.’ Mabel shook her head, clicking her tongue against her teeth. ‘They don’t take kindly to strangers, but they’ll get used to you. It was the same for all of us.’

‘I thought I must have offended them.’

‘They were like that with me, but now I get the occasional smile. The poor old dears have been here for so long they think they own the place. Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a night shift at the hospital.’

‘Are you a nurse?’

Mabel threw her head back and laughed. ‘No, love. I clean the wards. I’ll look on the notice board and see if there are any jobs going. I suppose you don’t mind what you do.’

‘No, not really. I need to start earning money or I’ll be forced to go home.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Judy found herself alone in the oak-panelled dining room, and she struggled with a sudden wave of homesickness and assailed by doubts as to the wisdom of running away. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but she had not given a thought to the difficulties she might face, or the heartache she would suffer. This was the end of her second day away from Creek Manor and Jack had not come after her. If his feelings for her were genuine, surely he would have made the effort to travel up to London, if only to make sure that she was all right? She left the dreary dining room and made her way slowly up the stairs to her lonely bedchamber. Raindrops were running down the windowpanes like tears and there was a chill in the room that made her shiver. She lay down on the bed still fully dressed and pulled the thin coverlet up to her chin. Perhaps things would be better tomorrow. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

At the end of the first week Judy still had not found employment, although she had been for several interviews. However, she soon discovered that she was not the sort of person that middle-class wives considered suitable as live-in housemaids. When Judy said that she had been assistant housekeeper at Creek Manor it seemed that the shutters went down. One woman even admitted that she would not consider employing an attractive-looking housemaid, as it always caused trouble with other servants. Others thought that she was over-qualified for positions as lowly as scrub women, who came in daily to do the hard work in their houses. Shopkeepers thought that Judy spoke too much like a lady to serve customers, who might think that they were being mimicked. No matter what job Judy tried for there was always a reason for rejecting her. Even worse, she had not had a word from Jack. He had not written and her mother’s letter made no mention of him at all.

The final straw was the fact that her money was running out. She could not exist on one meal a day, and she had been forced to buy a second-hand pair of boots as hers were worn beyond repair. Her fellow sufferers at the hands of Mrs Wood, whose strict rules governed every waking moment they spent under her roof, were sympathetic at first, but Judy realised that they were all desperate to escape the drudgery and loneliness of their lives. Perhaps the only people who were content with their lot were the two older ladies, who lived in their own little world. Judy found herself envying them.

With just a few coins left in her purse, Judy went to seek Minnie’s help and advice.

‘I haven’t come to borrow money,’ Judy said hastily when Minnie automatically reached for her reticule.

‘I can lend you enough for next week’s rent.’

Judy shook her head vehemently. ‘No, Mrs Marshall. Thank you, but I want to find work and I was hoping you might have heard of something. I’ll do anything.’

Minnie looked up at the sound of the door opening and her husband strolled into the parlour. ‘Judy is finding it almost impossible to find work, Toby. Can you help her?’

Dr Toby Marshall bore a striking resemblance to his sister, Daisy. It was a likeness that Judy had not noticed before, but it was something about the eyes and the kindly smile that reminded her of Daisy, and of home. She felt tears threatening to overcome her and she took a deep breath.