grease has got a nasty smell, but I guarantee it’ll work. Here, look – I’ll tuck it in yer basket fer yer. There’s sommat else as will help an’ all if you’ve the stomach to try it.’
When Mary raised a questioning eyebrow, Molly grinned. ‘Do yer have a chamber pot in yer room?’
Mary flushed, saying, ‘Yes, we both have.’
‘Good, then each mornin’ wash yer hands in it afore yer empty it. Not the nicest o’ things to do admittedly, but if it helps then it will be worth it.’
Mary wrinkled her nose in distaste at the thought but then gave a watery smile. ‘Thanks, Molly, and don’t worry, Mam – I am goin’ back. Happen I was just feelin’ a bit sorry for meself.’
From then on, the rest of the afternoon improved but when the girl left, Bessie was quiet.
‘Do yer think she’ll be all right, Molly?’ she asked worriedly.
Molly smiled. ‘O’ course she’ll be all right. Mary is made o’ stern stuff an’ it’ll take more than sore hands to make her walk away from such a good job,’ she answered, but inside she was thinking, My Amy will never do a job like that so long as I draw breath.
The next Sunday saw a completely different Mary swinging down the lane. Her hands, although still red raw in places, were hardening up slowly just as Molly had promised, and she looked much more her usual cheerful self.
This week, besides her basket of goodies she had also brought them some gossip. ‘I’ve been inside the main house,’ she told them joyfully. ‘And I’m telling yer, Mam, it’s like nothing yer could ever imagine.’
It was slightly cooler this week and Beatrice and Amy stared at her with shining eyes, happy to stay in and listen.
‘Why did you get to go in there then?’ Amy asked curiously.
Mary patted the younger girl’s springing curls affectionately. ‘I’d fetched some dry towels in from the line and the housekeeper told me to take ’em up to the first floor to the mistress’s rooms,’ she told her. ‘Oh, yer should see the carpet in the foyer – it’s red and it goes right from wall to wall – and all the way up the stairs are great paintings all in heavy gold frames.’ Amy’s eyes were wide with wonder and as Mary went on they grew wider still.
She told them of huge crystal chandeliers that sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight, and solid mahogany sideboards that were polished till you could see your face in them, and every pair of eyes in the room were on her as she related her tale.
‘Do yer ever get to see the master or the mistress?’ asked Beatrice inquisitively.
‘Occasionally,’ Mary replied, ‘and I have seen Master Adam, that’s Mr Forrester’s son, and his wife.’
‘Ooh! What’s she like?’ Immediately Amy was interested again. ‘Is she beautiful like a princess?’
Mary chuckled. ‘I suppose she is pretty,’ she admitted, ‘but only in looks. No one seems to like her very much and she’s …’ She sought in her mind for the right words. ‘Well, spoiled, I suppose. Her name is Eugenie and we often hear her shouting and throwing tantrums at Master Adam if something upsets her, yet he still seems to dote on her fer all that.’
‘What about Master Adam’s sister?’ It was Molly asking now, but Mary could only shrug.
‘All I know is that her name is Jessica. No one ever mentions her, but Cook told me on the quiet that she and the master had some big fall out some years ago and he ordered her from the house. They’ve seen neither hide nor hair of her since. And the mistress, well, from what I can make out, ever since then she’s become some sort of an invalid, yer know? She stays in her room a lot, but I’ve never seen her either.’
‘Who else is there then?’ piped up Amy, and Mary screwed up her eyes as she tried to think of all the staff. After a time she began to count them off on her fingers.
‘There’s Lily the parlourmaid, an’ Mrs Gibbs, the cook, then there’s Ruby, the chambermaid, and o’ course Alice, who works in the dairy. There’s Tom, he’s the gardener but we don’t get to see much of him ’cos he lives in a cottage in the grounds wi’ his missus an’ his kids and he has a young lad that works under him but I don’t know his name yet. Apparently, the master took