Yew Tree Gardens Read online

  A bored-looking pageboy came out of the hotel as she was paying the driver and called, ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘I’m starting work here.’

  ‘Right-o.’ He vanished and reappeared with a trolley, on to which he and the driver unloaded her trunk and bag. Then the lad wheeled them inside without even looking at her.

  Before she followed him, she looked up at the building in awe. It was surprisingly big with the wing down the side.

  ‘Hurry up, you!’ the lad yelled.

  She rushed inside and followed him to the housekeeper’s room, feeling nervous. This woman could make her life pleasant or miserable.

  He knocked on the door and when a voice called, ‘Come!’ he led the way inside.

  ‘The new girl’s here, Mrs Tolson. Shall I take her things up?’ This time his voice was quiet and respectful.

  ‘Yes please, Billy. She’s in Dormitory Two, the bed next to the door on the right.’ She turned to study the newcomer.

  Mrs Tolson was so elegant she took Renie’s breath away. She looked more like a lady than a housekeeper.

  ‘Welcome to the London Rathleigh, Irene. You come highly recommended by Mr Sewell.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Tolson.’

  ‘He says you’re a hard worker, but you still have a lot to learn, so I’ll put you under Maud’s wing. She’s our senior waitress and a very good teacher, so be sure to listen to her carefully and do what she tells you.’

  ‘I’ll do my very best, I promise.’

  ‘Tell me about your family.’

  This question surprised Renie, but she explained the situation quickly.

  ‘And what do you like to do in your spare time?’

  ‘Read. Is there a library near here that I can join?’

  Mrs Tolson nodded approvingly. ‘A very good pastime and one we encourage. We have two bookcases full of books in the women’s sitting room for the use of our female staff. When you’ve finished reading those that interest you, you might need to go to the local library, which isn’t far away. Not many of our women staff bother much with reading, I’m afraid.’

  She rang a small silver bell and another woman arrived, about forty and very thin. ‘This is Irene Fuller, who is starting as a waitress. Irene, this is Miss Pilkins, who is the assistant housekeeper in charge of the hotel rooms, and also the women staff and their accommodation. Take Irene upstairs, please, Miss Pilkins, and check that she has the correct clothes. If not, fit her out from the spares, then take her down to meet Maud. By the time you’ve done that, it’ll be nearly mealtime and you can show her where to go.’

  Miss Pilkins led the way at a brisk pace. ‘This is the staff lift and those are the staff stairs. We never use the customers’ lifts or stairs.’

  Renie had never ridden in a lift before and she felt a little nervous because the iron grill, which was pulled across to form a door, allowed her to see all the workings as well as each floor they passed through. She had an urge to clutch Miss Pilkins, but didn’t give in to it.

  ‘This is the fifth floor, the top one. The women staff’s accommodation is to the right. You are never, ever to go to the left, which is the men’s area.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Pilkins.’

  Just before they turned into Dormitory Two, which was apparently for the younger women, Miss Pilkins indicated a door. ‘That’s my room. If you need help in the night, you’re to knock me up. You’re not to bring anyone else up here, even if they’re related to you.’

  ‘I don’t know anyone in London.’

  ‘Very well. If you’ll open your trunk, I’ll check your working clothes.’

  Feeling a bit ashamed of how little she had, Renie took the key off the chain round her neck and unlocked her trunk.

  ‘You’ll need more than that.’ Miss Pilkins pulled a little notebook out of her pocket and made a quick list. ‘Let’s go and sort out what you need. Mrs Tolson keeps some spares. They’re second hand but of good quality. You’ll be charged for them at a shilling a week out of your wages.’

  An hour later, Renie owned more clothes than ever in her life before. They were made of good, hard-wearing fabrics and Miss Pilkins took care to find ones that fitted her properly, too. She wished she had something half as good for her off-duty clothes.

  So many new things to learn, she thought as Miss Pilkins showed her how to tie the apron. ‘Aprons belong to the hotel and are laundered by them. You will be given a clean one every day. If there’s an accident and you need another clean one, ask Maud. Now, take the uniform off and change into your normal clothes.’

  She led the way briskly down to the foyer and introduced Renie to Maud, who was supervising the clearing up of the tea shop.

  ‘I’m just finishing,’ Maud said. ‘If you wait over there, you can watch what we do, then we’ll go for our meal.’

  In the staff dining room, which was at the rear of the building in the rear wing, Maud handed her over to Daphne, who was a year or two older than Renie, rather plump, with a cheerful expression and brown hair with a frizzy fringe.

  ‘Call me Daff, everyone does when I’m not on duty,’ she said as soon as Maud had gone off to the senior staff dining room for her own meal.

  Renie sat quietly at the table, enjoying the food, of which you could eat as much as you wanted. She noticed how daintily the girls used their cutlery, and kept an eye on them to make sure she was doing things the right way. But her time waitressing in the King’s Head had taught her to use her knives and forks properly, thank goodness.

  After they’d cleared the table, Daff explained about the roster for clearing up the staff dining rooms, then took Renie to the attic sitting room, where both the housekeeping and waitressing female staff sat in the evenings.

  ‘Girls, this is Irene. She’s from Lancashire.’ Daff frowned at her. ‘You don’t sound like a northerner.’

  ‘I’m from Wiltshire really. I’ve only been living in Lancashire because my sister and her husband moved there.’

  ‘Parents dead?’

  ‘Well, my mother is. I don’t get on with my father.’

  They spent a few minutes asking Renie questions about herself, then left her in peace. At nine o’clock, two girls went out to fetch jugs of cocoa and supper, which was whatever cakes and biscuits had been left in the tea shop. Soon afterwards the women started going to bed, so Renie followed Daff.

  She felt shy about undressing in front of strangers, but she quickly realised that they didn’t stare at one another and most used a nightdress to cover themselves as they finished undressing.

  She was so tired she didn’t even remember pulling the covers up, and could only stare round, bewildered by her surroundings, when Daff woke her at seven o’clock in the morning.

  Walter fell to his knees beside Gil and tried to comfort his lad while they waited for help after the accident. He felt more a father to Gil than Mr Rycroft had ever been. If Walter had ever been blessed with children, he’d have treated them more lovingly. All show and no go, that was the master. Appearances and ‘doing the right thing’ counted more than people’s feelings, especially with an unimportant third son.

  Dr Lawrence arrived a few minutes later and, to Walter’s annoyance, he’d been drinking. At this hour of the morning, too! If there had been anyone else to send for, Walter would have done it.

  A short examination and the doctor shook his head. ‘It’s a bad one, this. Send for a cart with plenty of straw. It’s going to hurt to move him.’

  ‘I sent for one already.’

  ‘His left arm’s out of its socket and it’s broken as well. Let’s get that shoulder back in place first, then we’ll find something to splint the arm.’

  He did this so quickly that Walter didn’t have time to protest. But surely more care should have been taken? It was the second time Gil’s shoulder had popped out in the past year and his scream of pain was so loud and agonised, Walter felt sick to think how rough the doctor had been.

  To his relief the cart arrived then. />
  Back at the house, Walter had a quiet word with the master, begging him to send for a London specialist doctor to set the arm and leg properly, not Dr Lawrence.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘He’s been drinking, sir.’

  Mr Rycroft went across to the local doctor, recoiling at the smell of alcohol. ‘You’ve been drinking.’

  ‘Just a quick nip to keep out the cold.’ But the doctor was swaying slightly and his eyes weren’t in proper focus.

  ‘More than a nip. You’re not fit to care for anyone. Leave my house this minute!’ Mr Rycroft himself escorted the doctor to the door.

  As he watched his master use the telephone to call for a London doctor, Walter decided there was some use to the newfangled apparatus after all.

  He was concerned about the mistress, who was sitting by Gil’s side, looking as if she might faint at any moment.

  But there was nothing any of them could do except wait. And pray for their poor lad.

  By the time a specialist arrived from London three hours later, accompanied by his assistant, Gil was tossing and moaning. Walter stood by the bed, occasionally trying to comfort him, but Mr Rycroft remained by the window, looking round in disapproval as his son groaned in pain.

  It was left to Walter to explain exactly what had happened.

  The specialist stared down at his patient. ‘I’ll have to examine the arm and leg, and I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you, Mr Rycroft.’

  He was gentle and careful, very different from the local doctor, but though Gil tried hard to bear the pain in silence, he couldn’t help crying out and Walter had to help the doctor’s assistant hold him still as the arm and leg were checked.

  When he’d finished, the specialist turned to the master. ‘Only time will tell for sure, Mr Rycroft, but some fool’s handled your son’s arm roughly. The leg’s a nasty break, but it would be much worse if someone hadn’t straightened it carefully.’

  ‘I did that. I’ve dealt with animals with broken limbs,’ Walter said.

  ‘You did well. Now, I’ll need to use chloroform on your son to deal with the broken limbs.’ The specialist looked towards Mr Rycroft, who had come as far as the foot of the bed now, but still wasn’t looking at his son. ‘Is there a nurse for afterwards?’

  ‘We can send for one.’

  ‘There’s me,’ Walter said quietly. ‘I’ve had a lot to do with sick and injured animals.’

  ‘This is not a job for a groom,’ the master said at once.

  Walter was already disgusted by the way he was treating his son and had difficulty speaking politely. ‘With respect, sir, I’ve known Master Gil since he was a babe in arms. He’ll do as I tell him where he won’t listen to others.’

  ‘You’re not—’

  The specialist interrupted, speaking with a lowered voice, but Walter could hear what he said and was sure Gil could too.

  ‘It’s not likely your son will recover full use of that arm and shoulder, Mr Rycroft. I suspect there could be some nerve damage. We’ll have to wait and see. If your man here feels he can best deal with your son, I’m happy to have him help us and then leave him in charge. You can tell he’s a man of sense by the way he dealt with the situation today. I’m sure you can get him a nurse to assist him.’

  ‘That means I’ll lose my head groom.’

  The specialist couldn’t hide his surprise at this.

  Walter managed to speak quietly and politely, because it’d do no good to speak sharply to the master, who had sacked men for less. ‘Mark can take charge, sir. I have absolute confidence in him.’

  ‘Oh, very well!’

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to leave us to it, then, sir?’ the specialist suggested. ‘If you could put a maid at our disposal to fetch hot water or anything else we need?’

  ‘Very well. I’ll be down in the library when you’ve finished.’

  Walter could see Gil relax slightly after his father had left.

  Once the room had been organised, the assistant brought out the necessary equipment. He put a mask over the patient’s nose and mouth, then dropped liquid on to it. Walter had to help hold Gil at first, because he clearly didn’t enjoy the sensation.

  ‘They feel as if they’re smothering,’ the assistant said quietly, ‘but they’re not. There. He’s unconscious now.’

  The specialist worked quickly to set the leg, working by feel, then dealt with the arm, frowning and shaking his head. ‘I fear he’ll never have full use of this.’

  Walter watched with interest as the assistant helped encase the limbs in bandages impregnated with plaster of Paris.

  ‘I’ve never seen those before,’ he said. ‘How clever.’

  The specialist nodded acknowledgement of the compliment. ‘They were introduced during the Crimean War, but of course I make my own and we manage rather better nowadays. There. That should do it.’

  Gradually Gil regained consciousness, moaning and trying to move.

  The specialist seemed to have lost interest and was now taking off the smock he’d worn to keep his clothes clean, so Walter went to the head of the bed. ‘Hold still, lad. It’s over now.’

  ‘Over … thank heaven. Don’t let my father—’

  ‘I’ll keep him away from you as much as I can.’

  The specialist listened to this with raised eyebrows. ‘Should you speak like that about your master?’

  ‘Mr Rycroft is no good with sick people, sir, because he’s never had a day’s illness in his life. I’m the one who’s looked after Master Gil since he was ten.’

  ‘I see. Well, I’ll leave you two to clear up, and go and report. Is there another doctor in the neighbourhood apart from the one who first attended Mr Rycroft?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Dr Laver was away in London when it happened but he should be back tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll write him a note and he can telephone me if he needs more information or is worried about anything.’ He looked at his assistant. ‘Usual painkillers.’

  The doctor went to take his leave of Mr Rycroft senior, who had joined his wife in her sitting room.

  The assistant finished putting away the equipment, then took a box containing folded pieces of paper out of one of the leather bags. ‘These powders are to be taken in half a glass of water, one only, morning and evening, to help with the pain. If you need more, you can get them from the local doctor. It’s written on the box what’s in them.’

  Once he’d gone, Gil opened his eyes and looked at Walter. ‘I heard what he said.’

  ‘I thought you did.’

  ‘I’m going to be a cripple, aren’t I?’

  ‘You’ll have one bad arm, lad. That’s not exactly a cripple.’

  ‘I won’t be able to ride, though, will I?’ Gil turned his head away. ‘And it’s all my own fault for losing my temper.’

  There was nothing you could say to that.

  The day following Renie’s arrival in London, she went to work under Maud. The morning light wasn’t flattering to the head waitress, who was extremely thin, with a rather pointed nose and lightly greying hair.

  She studied the newcomer for a moment or two then nodded. ‘You’ve tied your apron properly, but let me just show you how to fix the cap on so that it doesn’t slip.’ She took Renie to a mirror and smiled at her in it. ‘Bewildering, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, very. But I’ll do my best to learn quickly.’

  ‘I’m sure you will. Mr Sewell hasn’t sent us a bad ’un yet. Now, let’s get to work.’

  The waitresses staffed the tea shop during the day, leaving the male waiters to see to customers who took luncheon and dinner in the elegant restaurant.

  Renie found her first full day at the Rathleigh bewildering. They did things so differently here and were fussy about every tiny detail. She tried her best to remember what she was shown and was relieved when Maud said in her quiet way as they finished clearing up, ‘You did well for a first day, Irene.’

  ‘Thank you. I won’t forget about
the plates next time.’

  ‘I’m sure you won’t.’

  Renie joined the other girls in the staff sitting room after her meal, listening more than talking, which was unusual for her. They seemed mostly quiet people, with Daff the liveliest and loudest. Renie guessed that she was the youngest, but Daff could only be a couple of years older. Even she quietened down when one of the older women stared across at her, said her name and shook her head slightly.

  After a while, Renie went over to the bookcase to find something to read.

  ‘Not another bookworm,’ Daff teased. She was embroidering a blouse, sighing every now and then as her thread got knotted, or she had to pull out a stitch.

  ‘I like reading.’ Renie studied the titles of the books.

  A woman nearby pointed to one book with a brightly coloured cover. ‘I really enjoyed this one.’

  Renie picked it up. Helen With The High Hand. ‘What a strange title. I haven’t read any books by Arnold Bennett before.’ She studied the first page, then nodded. ‘Looks as if it’ll be good.’

  ‘You have to put your name on the borrowers’ list when you borrow a book and cross it out when you bring it back.’

  Renie did as she was shown then put the book down by her chair. ‘I need to write a letter to my sister first. I’ll go and get my writing things.’

  ‘No need to do that if it’s to your family,’ the same woman said. ‘They encourage us to write home. They not only provide paper and envelopes, but pay postage too. Though don’t try to slip in a letter to a friend. They know all our families’ addresses.’

  ‘How kind of them!’

  ‘They’re not all of them kind,’ Daff muttered.

  Renie ignored that remark. People she’d met had been very kind indeed. She wrote a quick letter to Nell. The same woman took her out to show her where to leave the letter for collection in the morning.

  ‘Don’t take too much notice of Daff. She always finds something to complain about. They’re very fair employers here, even though they work you hard. Mr Greaves might be old, but he’s a good manager and keeps everyone on their toes.’

  As the days passed, Renie was surprised not to receive a reply by return of post, but perhaps it would arrive tomorrow. She planned to write to Nell every week without fail, knowing how her letters would cheer her sister up.