then, the back gate squeak its opening and closing. He had saved her the decision.
Returning to her seat in the armchair, she told her grandmother, ‘Whoever it was had gone.’ Outwardly she appeared calm and composed but inwardly her heart was breaking, her insides churning, her feelings divided. She still loved Arch, but was mourning the loss of the man she had thought her husband to be. The luxury of having time to come to terms with all this was not to be afforded her. She had people she loved beyond measure reliant on her to protect them. She had promised her dead mother she would, and had every intention of honouring that promise to the best of her ability.
Taking a deep breath, she announced to Bertha, ‘When the kids are in bed I’m going to work out how much to put aside for the rent and for coal … milk … gas. Well, if it comes to it, we can do without light, make do with candles. And what’s left … well, we’ll have to be very careful with until I get set on again. Thank goodness we don’t owe anybody anything.’ Then a thought struck her. ‘Oh, yes, we do. I’d forgotten about the Doc’s bill.’
Bertha mused, ‘Time was a pie or a cake or a bit of cleaning and washing would have done that. But I suppose the new chap has to pay his bills in cash, the same as us. I’ve a few shillin’ in me remedy money jar, which might just about cover it.’
Aidy prayed it would or they’d just have to hope they didn’t have any need of his medical assistance for a long time to come.
CHAPTER TEN
‘Just let me get this clear, Mrs Kilner. Starting at six-thirty every morning, you’re expecting your domestic to clean out and fire up the boiler for the hot water. Then, after she’s seen to the breakfast and cleared away, to clean and polish every room in the house thoroughly, even the three guest bedrooms, whether they’re being used or not. Plus a weekly wash of all the windows on the inside, weekly change of all the bedding, and fresh towels in the bathrooms daily. She must tackle the washing and ironing and any mending on a daily basis, prepare lunch for yourself, then prepare and cook an evening meal for when your husband comes home. She must also provide a high tea of sandwiches and cakes for your afternoon visitors and several ladies’ groups when it’s your turn to entertain them, see to all the grocery and domestic supplies ordering, weekly black-lead all the grates, daily clean and polish all the boots and shoes. And in what spare time she’s got, she’s to help you with any other jobs you may have for her to do …
‘She finishes in the evening when she’s cleared away the meal. Oh, and she’s to make herself further available on the evenings when you’re having a dinner party, which you do regularly, to help prepare, cook and serve the food, and clean up afterwards. Six and a half days a week, half-day off on Wednesday.’
Marjorie Kilner was a matronly, humourless fifty-five year old, married to a bank manager. Dressed in a tweed suit, a string of pearls around her meaty neck, she sat stiffly in a high-backed chair and shot Aidy a cold look. ‘Your hearing isn’t impaired. I am expecting exactly that of my domestic. But you did forget the weekly polishing of the silver.’
‘And the wage you’re paying is fourteen shillings a week?’
‘A generous amount in these hard times.’
Aidy quashed a burning desire to inform the woman that she may think herself clever for using that fact to her own advantage, but what she was actually doing was abusing those far worse off than herself. Aidy was desperate for work and didn’t care how hard or how long she had to graft to earn her pay. After five days of fruitless searching, deeply worried by now that she wouldn’t be able to pay the rent at the end of next week, she was getting to the stage of accepting anything. But the rent on the house was eight shillings a week, and what would be left over from the pay this woman was offering, not even a miracle worker could feed, clothe and keep a family warm on. That was, provided she even had any energy or time left over to tackle her own chores after she’d laboured for