All I Have to Give (28 page)

Thinking of Ada, Eloise wondered how she was settling in. It had been a few days since Ada and Annie had arrived in London, but they had been busy days for Eloise and she had found no time to
visit them. She would put that right today. Everything was organized for tonight: her gown was laid out for her on her bed, a chiffon, soft green-coloured, ankle-length creation, with peacock
feathers printed on it, giving it a vibrancy that she loved. Her hair was already styled, so she would just have a quick bath, then half an hour for her maid to dress her and to apply some make-up,
and she would be ready in plenty of time.

Ada opened the door to Eloise and greeted her in a way that Eloise loved. ‘By, Lady Eloise! Eeh, it’s good to see you – come on in.’

Somehow Ada made you feel loved. Just as Annie did. They were two women from opposite ends of the country, and yet similar in nature: down-to-earth, strong women who took all that life threw at
them and got back up and tackled whatever it had in store. She so admired them and was lifted by being in their presence.

Giving a little bob curtsey, Annie gave Eloise a welcome that was just as breezy. ‘Oh, M’lady, fancy you comin’ fer a visit. Sit down and I’ll make a cuppa – or a
“pot”, as Ada calls it.’

The curtsey unsettled Ada. In a fluster she bobbed up and down with almost every word as she apologized, ‘Eeh, I beg your pardon, M’lady, I’m not used to such
company.’

Laughing in a way she had thought never to laugh again, Eloise begged her, ‘Please, don’t worry. Oh, dear Ada, you look like a jack-in-the-box. I mean . . .’

Mortified this might be taken the wrong way, Eloise tried to retract her comment, but there was no need. Both Ada and Annie were giggling, and then Ada said, ‘More like a daft
ha’porth!’

Eloise had no idea what that meant, but as their laughter increased, she had to join in with them. ‘Oh, dear. It does help to laugh and engage in merriment. It is so nice to see you both,
and in good spirits, too. Is everything going well?’

‘It is, M’lady. We’re getting on like a forest fire in the wind. And Ada ’as such plans, she’s got me as excited as she is.’

‘I know. Miss Rene telephoned about them. I’m so happy for you, Ada. As soon as I return after the Christmas holiday I will help you all I can.’

‘Ta, M’lady.’ Another bob accompanied this.

‘My dear, you have no need to curtsey every time you speak to me. Well, you have no need to at all. I think it a silly custom.’

‘Oh no, I don’t agree. Sorry, M’lady, but we all ’ave our place in life and ’ave to keep it. It is the order of things, and ’ow it was meant to be.’

Eloise could only smile at this from Annie. Her father had long since said that the class divide was perpetuated by the poor, far more than it was by the upper classes.

The sound of a baby gurgling had Annie scurrying off in one direction.

‘It’s time for little Brendan’s feed. I won’t be a minute, M’lady,’ said Ada, as she scurried off in the other.

Sitting back in her chair, Eloise reflected that she couldn’t remember when she’d last felt like she did at this moment: cosy and warm and welcomed. It wasn’t all down to the
two nervous women making her feel that way; it was her surroundings, too. This room had a welcoming, home-made feel to it: the two fireside chairs – which she would call nursing chairs, as
they had no arms to them – were a beige colour, and had crisp white antimacassars over the backs of them. Each was embroidered with intricate patterns of violets and daisies, entwined in a
heart shape. On the polished wooden floor there was a beige pegged rug, with a pattern of dark-brown swirls around its edges, which looked like many half-moons intertwined.

The rug triggered a memory of days when she had visited Rene’s home as a child – Annie would be pegging this very rug, as she watched them playing. Often they would stop what they
were doing and watch, fascinated, as Annie pushed the peg, loaded with wool, through the netted base and back again, leaving the wool looped at the back. Then, with a pair of special clippers, she
would clip the wool so that all the strands at the front of the rug stood close together and all were of the same length. It sounded simple, but Eloise knew there was a process whereby the strands
were secured in place, which Annie had never explained to them.

It had taken years to complete the rug, as she remembered it being in progress from when she was about eleven years old. She and Rene had been seventeen when they held a little ceremony as the
last piece of wool was pegged into place. It had been very funny to see Annie do a little dance of joy. Eloise and Rene had gone into a fit of giggles at how Annie’s bosom had jigged up and
down – such things amused seventeen-year-olds. At this thought, the same feeling that had visited her earlier came to her.
Those were such innocent, carefree days!

Looking around at the rest of the room, Eloise thought that every corner of it reflected Annie’s personality and her handiwork. The table that stood against the wall with four chairs
neatly tucked around it was draped in a cloth just as white as the antimacassars, and with matching embroidered hearts. A dresser in the corner displayed pieces of china, and next to the very
welcome, glowing fire a brass coal-scuttle stood, shining with pride at its prominent place. It was a lovely room, lovingly kept.

‘Here’s your pot of tea, M’lady.’ Ada came back into the room carrying a tray, on the corner of which lay a banana-shaped baby’s bottle, which she picked up,
saying, ‘I’ll just take this into Annie for little Brendan. I won’t be a mo.’

‘Oh do tell her to bring the baby in here to feed him. There is no need to hide him away. I would love to meet him.’

‘Eeh, ta, M’lady, that’s grand of you.’ Opening the door to the hall and stairs, Ada called out to Annie to bring Brendan down. Then she turned back to her and said,
‘He loves to be with folk. He’s a little charmer, just like his da— I mean . . .’

‘I know. I’m sorry, he must be a constant reminder for you of that painful time.’

‘No. I don’t put any of it on his shoulders. And I’m fine with it all now, and have been ever since I met Joe. I can remember Paddy without anger, and I accept and love his
son. I just felt embarrassment at bringing the subject up.’

‘I understand, but you have no need to. I’ve nothing but admiration for you. May I ask how your sister is?’

‘She’s not good, and hasn’t been ever since the birth. Her husband has put in for a divorce, and that has devastated her. She has no interest in Brendan, and won’t even
have me take him with me when I visit her. I’m going to see if I can get her transferred nearer to here, and will keep trying to get her to accept her babby. By, it were a wrench coming here
and leaving her, but I had to think of meself for a change. But eeh, that place she’s in. It ain’t fit for pigs. And that’s how those in there get treated. There’s a few
soldiers in there that could do with your help, M’lady, I can tell you.’

‘Oh dear, I’m sorry. I hope things improve for her. I wonder sometimes how we are ever going to help all those who need it. It seems an impossible task at times.’

‘Aye, but at least you’re trying. You haven’t turned your back on us, as most of your class do, using us to clean up after them, fight their bloody wars and then kicking us in
the gutter.’

‘Oh, Ada, I didn’t know you felt like that. I’m so sorry. We’re not all like that.’

Annie coming into the room with the baby stopped the conversation, leaving Eloise feeling down for the first time since she had arrived. But Annie saying, ‘This little man is demanding
’is food; I tell yer, the male species starts the process of domineering us as soon as they are born,’ made her smile again.

A silence fell, once the baby was happily sucking on his milk. It didn’t hold any comfort, and Eloise was beginning to regret coming. Annie was the one to lift the feeling, in her usual
direct way. ‘Well, I’ve a knife in me drawer. Once baby is fed, I’ll use it to cut the atmosphere. What’s made you both clamp your lips?’

‘Eeh, it were me, letting me tongue have its rein on them as least deserve it. Forgive me, Lady Eloise. I don’t deserve what you’ve done for me, in giving me the confidence to
break away and make me feel worth sommat.’

‘Please forget it, Ada. In your position I would feel the same. But I do want you to know that a lot of my class
arc
concerned. Not many can physically do anything about the
social imbalance, but most rally round to give funds to my cause. And my father tells me that many social issues are being discussed in Parliament, especially since the new Prime Minister, David
Lloyd George, took office. Father says he has some very forward-thinking ideas, which, if implemented, will bring about change in all areas, especially for the lower classes.’

‘I spoke out of turn, M’lady. No class of people deserve to be lumped together. I don’t like it when it’s done to me own lot, and I shouldn’t have done it to
yours.’

As she finished talking, she slumped into the chair opposite Eloise. The sight of her look of defeat brought a lump to Eloise’s throat. She swallowed it down. ‘Don’t ever
suppress what you want to say, Ada. There is too much of that, especially amongst women. And it is by talking to each other that we find a solution to what is wrong at the heart of our country. We
women should stand together.’

‘You’re a special person, M’lady, and you have a wise head on your young shoulders. You’re different to any I’ve ever come across. You’re a saint.’

‘Ha! I’ve never been called that before. It’s a good thing Ada doesn’t really know me, don’t you think, Annie? I rather like being looked on as a saint!’

‘Proper madams – that’s what they were when they were growing up, I can tell yer, Ada. But I agree with yer. Lady Eloise and my Miss Rene ’ave turned out
champion.’

‘Ooh, I can feel my head growing and bursting out of my halo!’

They all laughed at this and Eloise felt the tension lift. ‘Let’s talk about the future, shall we? Tell me your plans, Ada. I’m so excited for you.’

Ada outlined her plans to become a seamstress, and her fears about what might go wrong.

‘Yours plans are attainable, Ada. Tell me, where did you train?’

‘Mostly at me mam’s knee – she was a time-served seamstress. She was taken on by a French lady, who ran an exclusive gown shop in Leeds. Mam were that good that, when she
married and had me and Beryl, Madame Camilla installed a sewing machine in our house and had a sort of cage built in the corner of our parlour. Mam used to sit in this cage working away for hours,
while we played around the outside of it. As we got older she taught us her skills. Not that Beryl took to it, but I did. I inherited an old treadle-machine that Madame didn’t want back. I
used it for years, earning a bit here and there by making things. I never retrieved it from the rubble of me cottage, though, and I reckon it’s ruined now.’

‘Well, my advice to you would be to get a new one, and to make up some samples that I can show to my friends for you. They do all have their own favourite outlets, so they will need
winning over with something very special.’

‘I will, M’lady, but I don’t know where to start.’

‘Leave it with me. I know several industrialists and can ask amongst them. Enjoy your Christmas as much as you can. It’s been a terrible year for all of us, and we have ongoing
things that worry and upset us, but hopefully we will have a little joy over the next two weeks.’

‘Aye, things like war and death are great levellers. We’re all in the same boat, when hit by the devastation they cause. I’ll be thinking of you, M’lady, and hoping you
and your family can find some peace an’ all.’

‘Thank you, Ada, we will try. And I will be thinking of you and praying you find some peace, too. I feel much happier that you have Annie and are here in London, away from all the sad
reminders of the life you used to have.’

Ada seemed to hesitate. ‘M’lady, can I tell you sommat I’ve told Rene, and I know she will have told you, about the connection between your cousin Edith and my Jimmy. Well,
even before that, I felt sommat between me and Edith. From the moment Rene told me about her, I knew we were linked in some way. I knew she must be a very courageous lady, to do what she set out to
do. Anyway, from then on I’ve felt a kinship with her, of sorts. It helps me to think of her courage, and to try to be the same as her. It is something to cling on to. When you think about
her, think of the strength and courage she has and latch on to that. It might help you an’ all.’

Feeling the lump rise to her throat again, Eloise smiled through tingling tears. ‘That’s lovely. Thank you. I will, and I will tell Edith’s mother your story, and how Edith
helps you. Just maybe she can find a way of doing the same.’

The party was in full swing, and the ballroom was fit to burst with the number of people in it. The heat, despite having all four French doors open, was stifling. A three-piece
music group played tunes that had the hardier amongst them dancing reels and waltzes. Eloise thought the atmosphere was wonderful, until a commotion near one of the French doors caught
everyone’s attention.

‘It’s Lady Muriel – she has fainted!’ This cry alarmed Eloise. She had been most surprised when her aunt and uncle had accepted her invitation. It had been sent out of
courtesy, and she hadn’t expected them to come. But Aunt Muriel, in one of her brave moments, had said to her, ‘I have decided that yes, we will come to your charity ball, Eloise, my
dear. Life has to go on, and it won’t stand a chance of doing so without the magnificent effort our young people are making. We will support you, darling. Your work is much needed, and I
admire the way you have found yourself a niche to do your bit, despite the restrictions the family grief has put upon you.’ Eloise had been astonished. ‘Thank you, but you really
don’t have to attend if you would rather not. Your donation is more than generous enough.’ But her aunt had been insistent. ‘No, we will come. God knows we could do with some
light relief from all the pain and worry. As this is a charity ball, it is socially acceptable for us to attend, which makes it easier.’