Jess had to smile at this. ‘But if we marry, you know, we’re almost bound to have a baby quite quickly. Dr Marie Stopes might have opened her birth-control clinic, but she’s down in London and local doctors and nurses won’t even discuss it, let alone advise one.’
‘Well, I reckon we’d manage somehow,’ Ken said obstinately. ‘I know we said that we wouldn’t rush into anything and that two years would soon pass, but it would be grand to get married right away.’
‘I know it,’ Jess said, giving his hand a rueful squeeze. They were sitting on a small curved seat set into the wall of the garden, but now she got reluctantly to her feet. ‘I’d best go in now, Ken, my love, because there’s going to be an awful lot of arranging to do. Poor Mr Bellamy was astonished when he heard the news, though of course I suppose he should have been prepared for it – she was eighty-four, after all.’
‘He was already here when I arrived,’ Ken remarked, as they walked round the side of the house and out into the road where Ken had left the car. ‘He must have got a move on.’
‘Well, not really; it was a coincidence that he had decided to come and talk to his mother about a business matter . . . he rang the bell about ten minutes after the doctor had arrived. I’m really glad he’s here, though, because he’s handling all the funeral arrangements and says none of the staff are to worry because our jobs are safe until the end of the month at least. He’s going to employ Cook himself, and possibly Gladys as well, but of course he won’t be needing a nurse.’
‘And I wouldn’t want you working in Southport,’ Ken said at once. ‘Look, my darling, I dare say things will sort themselves out over the next few days, but whatever you do, don’t
worry
. I’m never far away.’ Ken looked around him, then bent and kissed her gently on the mouth before turning to climb into the car.
Jess waved until he was out of sight, then returned reluctantly to the house, feeling tears gather in her eyes as she crossed the familiar hall and glanced towards the drawing room where, she knew, Mr Bellamy was closeted. She would miss the old lady so much! Indeed, she realised now that she had allowed most of her old friendships to lapse because a live-in job made socialising somewhat difficult. However, it was no use wishing now that she had not cut herself off from her nursing friends.
Resolutely, she went across to the kitchen where she found Cook making up a tray of sandwiches and scones. The other woman looked up and smiled as Jess entered the room. ‘The doctor has left and Mr Bellamy asked for a light supper to be delivered to the breakfast parlour,’ she said. ‘I’ve made a big tureen of leek and potato soup and I’ve popped some of my bread rolls into the bake oven to warm, but I’ve sent young Gladys to bed.’ She sniffed scornfully. ‘I know the gal were fond of Mrs Bellamy – well, we all were – but that’s no excuse for high-strikes, I told her.’ She smiled hopefully at Jess. ‘So in the circumstances, Miss Williams, I wonder if you’d carry in a tray for me, bein’ as I’ve only got the one pair of hands.’
Jess agreed readily and presently went to the drawing room to tell Mr Bellamy that a light supper awaited him in the breakfast parlour. She saw that he was looking pale and red-eyed and guessed that he was suffering from shock as well as grief. It was all very well telling oneself that Mrs Bellamy had had a long and happy life; shock and sorrow were inevitable after any death.
‘Thank you, nurse,’ Mr Bellamy said. ‘I hope you’ve had something to eat yourself? I feel we must all keep our strength up because there will be a deal of work to be done in the next few weeks. I shall have to sell this house and most of the furniture and fittings, and there are arrangements to be sorted out . . . oh, could you ask Gladys to make up the bed in the guest room? I’ve telephoned to my wife to let her know I shall be staying here for a while and advising her not to come rushing over until the date of the funeral is fixed.’
‘The bed is kept made up, sir, but I’ll put a couple of hot water bottles between the sheets just in case they’re cold,’ Jess said. ‘Gladys has gone to bed – she’s not feeling too well – but Cook and I will see to everything.’
‘Thank you; I know I can rely on you, nurse,’ Mr Bellamy said gratefully. As they talked, they had been crossing the hall, and now he entered the breakfast parlour, closing the door gently behind him, and Jess returned to the kitchen.
Cook had laid the table with two places, and two bowls of her delicious leek and potato soup stood waiting whilst a steak and kidney pie steamed gently beside the stove. Jess’s mouth watered as she slipped into her chair and lifted her soup spoon. ‘Mrs Fielding, you’re a marvel,’ she said, as the older woman sat down opposite her and raised her own spoon. ‘I’m afraid the next few days are going to be very trying, but I’m sure, between us, we will cope.’
Ten days later, Jess let herself out of the front door and almost ran to the bus stop on Croxteth Road. The Bellamy house was on the telephone so she had rung Mendelssohn Motors, Ken’s employers, and left a message asking that Ken should meet her that evening outside his place of work. A helpful receptionist had looked in the diary and told her that Mr Ryan would be leaving work at eight o’clock, so Jess had finished the tasks she had been set by Mr Bellamy – at present, she was cataloguing Mrs Bellamy’s books – and had set off to catch a No. 15 tram which would take her practically to the door of Mendelssohn Motors.
When she reached her destination, Ken was already waiting for her, which was fortunate since Jess was in such a hurry to get off the tram that she tripped and fell, and it was only Ken’s quickness in scooping her up that prevented her from a painful fall.
‘Hey, hey, hey, what’s the rush?’ Ken said, setting her on her feet and kissing her cheek. ‘Don’t say something else has happened! I’ve managed to get the day off tomorrow so I can support you at the funeral; is that what you wanted to ask me?’
‘No, no, no, it’s more important . . . different . . . oh, Ken, we can get married as soon as you like,’ Jess gabbled, feeling her cheeks burn with excitement. ‘They had the Will reading this morning, and all the family came, and of course Cook and I were rushed off our feet because everyone stayed for lunch so we were far too busy to wonder about the Will. We were pretty sure that young Mr Bellamy would inherit everything but this afternoon he came into the kitchen and told the three of us, Cook, Gladys and myself, that we had each been left a small sum of money and a keepsake. I have got the most beautiful amethyst necklace, Gladys has a silver bangle set with very pretty crystals, and Cook has the dragonfly brooch which Mrs Bellamy wore pinned to her best coat when she went to church on Sundays. I remember she once said she meant to leave it to her daughter-in-law, because it’s such a pretty thing, but then young Mrs Bellamy said only a woman with no taste would wear such a gaudy brooch and Mrs Bellamy heard and must have changed her Will.’
‘Well, how good of her to remember the servants! I always said she was a right ’un,’ Ken said warmly. ‘But . . . are you thinking of selling the necklace, queen? Only I’d rather you kept it, because I’m sure that’s what Mrs Bellamy intended.’
‘Of course I’d never sell it, not if I was starving,’ Jess said vehemently. ‘But I won’t need to; oh, Ken, she’s left me
two hundred pounds
! Cook’s got a hundred, and so has Gladys, and it was so kind of her to include Cook because she’s only been with us a short time.’ She looked up at Ken with shining eyes. ‘What do you think of
that
, Ken Ryan?’
Despite their hopes, it was after Christmas before Jess and Ken actually got married. For one thing, Mr Bellamy had asked Jess to stay on so that she could supervise the cataloguing of all the contents of the house in order that they might be auctioned. Everything was to go: carpets, curtains, furniture, even Mrs Bellamy’s much loved collection of Dresden figurines and the Sèvres tea set which had graced the china cabinet in the drawing room. Young Mrs Bellamy had come to the house one day and informed Jess, coldly, that her husband had told her to stick a label on anything she wished to have for herself. Jess had accompanied her round so that she would know which objects should not be included in the catalogue, but it had hardly proved necessary. Young Mrs Bellamy had seemed to despise all her motherin-law’s possessions and apart from the grandfather clock in the hall, and an oil painting of a rural scene, had told Jess that everything might be sold.
‘Would – would it be all right, Mrs Bellamy, if I bought some of the kitchen equipment?’ Jess had asked timidly. ‘I would bid for it at the auction but I’m afraid I shall probably be in another job by then and unable to get time off. I’d pay whatever you considered fair,’ she had added hastily, as Mrs Bellamy’s cold and fishy eyes stared down at her.
The other woman had hesitated and then said grudgingly, ‘Well, I suppose it would be all right. I don’t suppose the kitchen equipment would fetch much, but you’d best ask my husband what you should pay.’
Jess had thanked her but thought crossly that she had probably been silly to mention it. After all, Mrs Bellamy had not wanted any of the stuff, and her interest had been so cursory that the staff could have walked off with half the contents of the house had they been dishonest. As it was, she and Cook put to one side things that they particularly wanted, though they took care not to choose anything of value. Pots and pans, sieves, wooden spoons, ladles and good sharp knives were, she felt, acceptable, but the beautiful solid silver cutlery, lying on its bed of velvet and polished weekly by Gladys, would fetch a decent price and so could not be included. Jess was amused to see, amongst Mrs Fielding’s treasures, the kitchen knife with a bone handle and only half a blade which the three of them always tried to grab when preparing vegetables.
And in the end, as Jess had suspected he would, Mr Bellamy simply told them to put the stuff in their own rooms and refused to charge them anything. ‘He’s a nice feller, nearly as nice as his ma,’ Cook said appreciatively. ‘Wish I’d took more now, but there you are. I dare say I shouldn’t be greedy.’
When Jess had explained to Ken that the house and its contents were to be sold and that Mr Bellamy had asked her if she would take charge of the place until the sale was completed, he was very understanding, even though he had hoped for an earlier wedding.
‘I know you’ve got that two hundred pounds, which is an awful lot of money, but I guess Mr Bellamy will pay you pretty well for being in charge,’ he had said. ‘And it would be grand if we could put your inheritance away as a sort of nest egg, like. Anyway, you were that fond of old Mrs B. that I guess you’ll want to do right by the son, even if his wife is a nasty piece of work. So you stick to your post, love, and we’ll marry when all the business is settled.’
Jess had agreed that this was fair, and, indeed, she had quite enjoyed this new twist to her work. Like most nurses, she was neat and methodical, and got a good deal of satisfaction from making order out of chaos. Within a month of Mrs Bellamy’s death, Cook had moved up to Southport, but Gladys had agreed to stay on and the two of them rather enjoyed managing for themselves. Jess had little experience as a cook, but Gladys had watched Mrs Fielding closely as she worked, often assisting in simple tasks such as mixing pastry, preparing meat and vegetables and making gravy or custard. Now Gladys taught Jess all she knew, and when necessary Jess took down one of the well-thumbed and food-bespattered cookery books and consulted its pages. Very soon, she and Gladys were not only eating well themselves, but could serve up a tasty dinner for Mr Bellamy when he spent the day in the house.
‘It’s all good training for when we do get married, because, before, my cooking skills were distinctly limited,’ Jess had told Ken. ‘But now I can make you a delicious meal without spending an awful lot of money, or a positive feast if it’s some sort of celebration. And there’s other things. When I was in nursing, our uniforms were laundered, so I never knew how to starch a collar, or sides to middle sheets, though I was a dab hand at darning because some of my black stockings were more darn than anything else. But now Gladys and I have had to learn to do all sorts. Oh aye, whoever gets me for a wife is a lucky feller!’
They had been strolling in Prince’s Park enjoying the late October sunshine, and now Ken, grinning, bent and gave her a quick kiss. ‘I’d be a lucky feller even if you couldn’t boil water,’ he had assured her. ‘I’m marrying Jess Williams, not a cook, or a cleaner, or a laundry worker, and don’t you forget it.’ He sighed. ‘What chance of a wedding before Christmas, do you suppose?’
‘Oh, I should think we’ll be finished before then,’ Jess had said hopefully. ‘Tell you what, Ken, it might be best if we decide on a firm date some way ahead, and tell Mr Bellamy. I don’t think it’s occurred to him that I have plans of my own, but if he knows I shan’t be available – well, say after Christmas – then I’m sure he’ll get things moving. The last thing he wants is to have to organise things himself.’
This was true, for she and Gladys had noted, some while since, that Mr Bellamy was no organiser, and when, later that same day, she had told him she and Ken had decided on a Christmas wedding, she saw by his suddenly widening eyes that he did not relish the prospect of losing her. He had told her, hastily, that the auctioneers had been pestering him for a definite date, and asked when she thought this date should be.
‘Well, we don’t want to marry on Christmas Day . . . indeed, I don’t think it’s allowable . . . but Ken did suggest the twenty-seventh, the Tuesday after Christmas,’ Jess had said hopefully. ‘If everything could be completed by, say, the seventeenth, including the sale of the house itself, then it would give me time to get my wedding, and my future, sorted out.’