She got up from her chair and walked around the room straightening things for a few minutes, checking to see how deeply Adele was sleeping. Once she was satisfied, she covered her with a blanket and hoped she wouldn’t wake before she got back.
She crept silently to her bedroom, and looked at herself critically in the dressing-table mirror. She was beginning to look her age – her skin was growing crêpey, and she was getting a moustache. As for her steel-grey hair, it was hard to imagine it had once been a rich chestnut. Her navy blue dress with its lace collar and cuffs was her best one, indeed the only decent dress she owned. It was very old-fashioned, but then she’d made it the year before Frank died. Luckily the moths hadn’t got into it and it still fitted her. Adele had said just this morning that she associated it with happy days, as the first time she’d seen her wearing it was the day Honour took her to enrol at school. Since then it had been worn only on Sundays and at Christmas.
Honour fixed a few stray hairs back into her bun, dabbed a little powder on her nose, then put on her hat. It too was navy blue, a no-nonsense felt hat with a small brim. Adele had once joked that it made her look even more formidable. That was the effect she wanted to create today.
The velvet collar on her coat was almost worn away, but she covered it with her foxtails. Frank had bought them for her on their honeymoon, and said they were essential for a lady of quality. She wasn’t so sure she liked the idea of a couple of dead foxes hanging round her neck any more, their glass eyes were a bit too realistic. But they did smarten up her coat.
Finally, her best shoes. She didn’t relish walking up the steep hill to Winchelsea in them as they were tight. But appearance was all when you were going to confront the enemy. She wanted to look like their equal, not the old witch who lived on the marsh.
A biting north wind almost cut Honour in half as she made her way up the lane. The sky was the colour of lead and she thought there might be snow later. The River Brede was swollen almost to the top of its banks from the previous day’s heavy rain, and it was very lucky it had stopped when it did – another inch and the banks would have burst.
It was only on days like this that Honour fell out of love with the marsh. It looked so bleak and cruel, a forbidding place only suitable for wild birds and sheep, and even the sheep were huddling together for warmth.
Outside Harrington House, she pulled her hat on more firmly, arranged the foxtails more securely and took a deep breath before ringing the bell.
A child was crying upstairs, and it was some time before she heard footsteps in the hall. The door was opened by a young woman with dishevelled blonde hair and red eyes as if she’d been crying. She was clearly Ralph Bailey’s wife.
‘I wish to see Mr and Mrs Bailey,’ Honour said, quickly stepping over the threshold before the young woman could refuse her.
Laura Bailey was startled. ‘It’s not really convenient right now,’ she said feebly, then glanced over her shoulder as another wail came from upstairs.
‘It’s convenient for me, so I suggest you go and see to your child while I go right in, I know the way,’ Honour said. And she marched swiftly towards the drawing-room door and opened it.
Adele had described the whole family so vividly that Honour felt she already knew them well. Emily was on the couch by the fire, her son Ralph beside her. Myles Bailey was in an armchair opposite. All three looked up in shocked surprise at her entrance, and judging by the tension hanging in the air, she guessed she had interrupted an argument. Thankfully Michael wasn’t present. She hoped that wherever he was, he would stay there.
The room was very untidy, strewn with bits of wrapping paper and abandoned toys. Honour noted the Christmas tree in the alcove, and thought Adele had done a fine job in dressing it so prettily.
‘Who are you?’ Ralph burst out indignantly, jumping up off the couch. ‘And what do you mean by walking in here uninvited?’
Honour guessed by his mother’s puzzled expression that she hadn’t yet recognized her as her mother’s old friend.
Honour looked Ralph up and down, noticing he was a carbon copy of his father at the same age. ‘You haven’t changed,’ she said crisply. ‘You were very rude even as a small boy. I am Mrs Harris, a friend of your late grandparents, and I’m also Adele’s grandmother.’
Myles jumped out of his chair. ‘Now look here,’ he blustered, ‘we had no choice but to dismiss Adele, she was extremely insolent, so if you’ve come here to plead for her job then you are wasting your time.’
‘I’m not given to pleading with anyone,’ Honour retorted archly. ‘I came here to tell you what I think of you and to collect her belongings and what’s due to her.’
Emily looked astounded. ‘Mrs Harris!’ she exclaimed, her small hands fluttering with agitation as it dawned on her that this was her mother’s old friend. ‘It’s been a great many years since we last met. Why on earth didn’t Adele tell me she was your granddaughter?’
‘Would you have treated her with more respect and kindness had you known?’ Honour asked, raising one eyebrow quizzically. She thought the passing years had been much kinder to Emily than they had to her. Her hair had retained its rich colour, and her complexion was still like porcelain. But Adele’s observation that she looked like a china doll was very true – her blue eyes were glasslike and a little vacant, and even her lips had a little-girl pout.
Honour thought her powder-blue two-piece with frills at the neck was unsuitable for her age, yet she had hardly changed from how she looked as a young mother back in 1913.
‘You should be ashamed of yourself, Emily,’ Honour went on. ‘Adele came and helped you out when there was no one else, just as I often did for your mother. She’d had no training except what she’d learned from me, yet she has run this house, and run it well. She has been discreet, loyal and kind to you. Yet you allow your husband to slap her and put her out in heavy rain.’
‘Now look here,’ Myles butted in. ‘You can’t come crashing in here disturbing us on Christmas Day. The girl was insufferably rude. Goodness only knows what she’s said to my wife in the past. I had no choice but to dismiss her.’
‘You had no right to do that, she worked for your wife, not you. Adele merely stuck up for herself,’ Honour spat at him. ‘You, Myles Bailey, are a bully.’
She launched into a vitriolic account of the worst aspects of Adele’s service in the house, sparing nothing. Each time Ralph or Myles tried to silence her she rounded on them with more. Emily began to cry, and Honour turned on her.
‘That’s right, cry,’ she hissed at her. ‘That’s all you’re good for now. Adele fed you, cleaned up after you, cooked, sewed, ironed and washed, even left her home to keep an eye on you. Not once has she blabbed to the neighbours about you, she hasn’t stolen anything, or taken advantage in any way. Look at that tree! She did that, with no help from you, along with cooking and making the whole house welcoming for your family. What have you done in return? Nothing! No Christmas present, no words of praise. You allowed him to shove her out into the rain without even a coat, for dropping a soup tureen.’
Honour could see the effect she was having on all three of them. Emily was pale and shaking, Ralph incredulous that anyone had the nerve to speak to his parents in such a manner, and Myles was puffed up with rage. Knowing that they’d probably had a miserable Christmas with no servants to wait on them, Honour hoped that by coming here and confronting them she had made it the worst one in their family history. But she wasn’t finished with them yet, her blood was up, and she demanded to collect Adele’s belongings from her room and two weeks’ pay in lieu of notice.
Myles strutted around the room as though he was in a court room and the evidence he had just heard was a tissue of lies. ‘I find all this quite unbelievable,’ he said. ‘Tell me, Mrs Harris, if the position as Emily’s maid was as terrible as you claim, why didn’t the girl just leave?’
‘There are some people in this world who allow compassion to override their good sense,’ Honour said sharply. ‘Adele was afraid to leave for fear of what Emily would do to herself. On top of that she didn’t want Michael worried or to interrupt his studies.’
‘Ah, now we get to the core of it,’ Myles smirked nastily. ‘She’s set her cap at my son, hasn’t she?’
‘What tosh,’ Honour snorted. ‘They were friends long before she came here to work, in fact she only came as a favour to him. But she’s hardly seen him since then, as Emily can confirm. So don’t you dare to imply that my granddaughter has behaved improperly in any way with your son, or you’ll be skating on very thin ice.’
His face turned a few shades redder, and he pulled out his wallet, removed a couple of notes and thrust them at her. ‘Take that and her clothes and go,’ he said.
‘I want an apology first,’ Honour said, taking the money but standing her ground. ‘And a promise Mrs Bailey will give her a good reference.’
‘Of course I’ll give her a reference,’ Emily said, suddenly agitated again and her blue eyes full of fear. ‘But I’d rather Adele came back to work. I don’t know quite what I’m going to do without her.’
‘She can’t come back, you silly woman,’ Myles burst out. ‘I’ll find you someone else.’
Honour looked sharply at the man. He had no saving graces: he was a bully and a bigot and so puffed up with self-righteousness it was a wonder he wasn’t airborne.
‘An apology?’ she said, raising one eyebrow and fixing him with her sternest look.
‘All right, I’m sorry I lost my temper with the girl,’ he said, not meeting her eyes and his voice a mere rumble. ‘But please go now, we’ve had the worst Christmas ever, my grandchildren and daughter-in-law are distressed, and Michael hasn’t been here all day.’
Honour felt triumphant. ‘How different it might have been if you’d treated Adele like a human being,’ she said silkily before turning to the door. ‘I won’t trouble you for her clothes now, I’ll just get her coat from the kitchen. I’m sure Michael can bring the other things down to us tomorrow?’
‘Not Michael,’ Myles retorted. ‘I don’t want him coming anywhere near you again. Ralph or myself will drop them off to you.’
As Honour walked home, hobbling now in her tight shoes and holding Adele’s coat over her arm, she had plenty of food for thought. She had wanted to laugh when she saw their kitchen, it was absolute chaos, with unwashed plates, saucepans and half-eaten food everywhere. She had touched the stove and found it was only warm – clearly they hadn’t thought to stoke it up, and it was almost out. There would be no hot water for baths tonight or in the morning, and who would be pressed into washing up?
But the glee she felt knowing that Adele’s departure had hurt them worse than it had hurt her granddaughter was diluted by the thought of Michael. It wasn’t right that such a nice young man should be wandering around on his own on Christmas Day, or that his loyalties should be pulled in all directions.
The following day was even colder and darker. Honour had barely managed to open the rabbits’ cages to feed them, the wind was so strong. When she tried to hang sacks over the hutches to give them some protection, it was all she could do to hold on to them.
‘I’m not going out of that door again today,’ she said as she came back indoors and warmed herself by the stove. ‘I must be getting old,’ she added when she saw Adele watching her. ‘I never used to notice the cold.’
She was feeling a little uneasy, wondering how to tell Adele that she went to Harrington House yesterday. Her granddaughter was still sound asleep when she got back, and by the time she woke, Honour was back in her chair reading as if she’d been there all the time. She would have to admit it, she had the money for her after all, and someone would be bringing the rest of her things down later. But she didn’t want to – Adele wasn’t going to be happy about not seeing Michael any more.
‘Do you think I could be a nurse?’ Adele asked suddenly.
‘A nurse!’ Honour exclaimed. ‘What brought that idea into your head? I thought you’d had enough of being at people’s beck and call?’
‘It’s not the same thing as being a skivvy,’ Adele retorted. ‘It’s a real job, something worthwhile. I know I’m not eighteen till the summer, but it might be worth making inquiries.’
Honour thought about it for a while, glad to be distracted from thoughts of the Baileys. ‘You’d make a good one,’ she said eventually. She really thought Adele would make a first-class nurse, she had the patience, the compassion and plenty of common sense, along with being strong and capable. But it wasn’t in Honour’s nature to reveal her innermost thoughts.
Adele seemed very satisfied with her reply anyway, and went on to explain that the idea had come to her last night in bed, and how she thought she could apply to the hospital in Hastings. Indeed she appeared to have thought it all through, including the fact that if accepted as a student nurse she’d have to live in the nurses’ home.
‘What was that?’ Honour interrupted her suddenly on hearing a scrunch on the pebbles outside. She got up and looked out of the window, just in time to see a glimpse of Ralph Bailey disappearing back up the lane. ‘Well, that’s to be expected, he didn’t even have the guts to knock on the door.’
Adele jumped up. ‘What are you talking about?’ she asked.
‘It was Ralph Bailey. He crept up like a thief in the night with your things, left them on the doorstep and beetled away. He must have left the car down the road or we would have heard it.’
Adele went to the front door and opened it. The small suitcase she’d taken to Harrington House was on the doorstep. ‘Oh dear,’ she sighed, picking it up and coming back in, shutting the door behind her. ‘They haven’t returned my coat, I suppose they forgot that.’
Honour had to tell her then. ‘Your coat is in my room, I got it yesterday,’ she said.
Adele said nothing as her grandmother outlined the bare bones of what took place while she was asleep. She sat in her chair by the stove with a blank expression, neither approving nor disapproving. ‘I got ten pounds out of him too,’ Honour finished up. ‘I only asked for two weeks in lieu of notice, but I wasn’t going to say that was far too much.’