much I feel like I knew him. He-” She broke off as a voice spoke from the doorway.
“’Allo, then! Look who’s here! If it ain’t the bold and beautiful Gertie McBride.”
Gertie froze. She’d know that voice anywhere. It was that bloke she bumped into earlier that morning. Sid Barrett, that was it.
Pansy was staring across the room at him, but Gertie refused to turn around. She jumped when his voice sounded right behind her, almost in her ear.
“How about that pint at the pub, then?”
“I told you, sir, I’m not supposed to be mixing with the guests.”
“He’s not a guest,” Pansy piped up. “He’s one of the footmen madam hired for the Christmas season.”
Gertie swung around to face Sid, eyes blazing. “Why the bleeding heck didn’t you tell me that?”
He shook his head. “Tut, tut. Such language from a lady. You didn’t ask me, luv. Besides, I liked the way you called me sir.”
“Don’t you luv me, you lying bugger.” She frowned at him. “How’d you know my name, anyhow?”
Sid grinned. “Made it my business to, didn’t I.” He tapped his nose. “I can find out anything I want if I really put my mind to it.”
Pansy giggled, and Sid winked at her, then set his gaze firmly on Gertie.
He made her nervous. Gertie gripped the sweeper’s handle. Something about his eyes. Shifty, that’s what he was. “I have to get on with my work,” she said stiffly. “So bugger off. You’re not supposed to be in here anyhow.”
“Right.” He glanced at Pansy then, who was staring at him all starry-eyed. “So how about you, then, luv? You’ll have a pint with me, won’t you?”
Giggling again behind her hand, Pansy nodded.
“No she won’t,” Gertie said, sending Pansy a warning look. “She’s already got a boyfriend.”
Looking back at Gertie, Sid tilted his head to one side. “Well, I really just came in to say I’m sorry for the loss of your husband.”
Gertie stared at him. “You knew Ross?”
Something flickered in Sid’s eyes. He seemed at a loss for words for a moment, then said slowly, “I thought she said his name was Ian Rossiter.” He nodded his head at Pansy. “I thought I heard her say as how he’d died and that he was the father of your twins. Sorry if I was mistaken.”
Gertie took a moment to collect her thoughts. How long had the bloke been standing there listening to their private conversation? No wonder he had shifty eyes. He was a bleeding Peeping Tom. “Ian Rossiter did die last night, but he was never my husband,” she said shortly.
“But he was the father of your twins, right?”
Gertie tossed her head. “Not that it’s any of your bloody business.”
“Ah well, anyway, I’m sorry.” Sid laid a hand on her shoulder. “That’s a terrible tragedy, to lose your husband. Especially when you’ve got two little ones to look after.”
Gertie shook off his hand and moved farther away from him, putting the sweeper between them. “You needn’t feel sorry for me. I’m glad he’s dead. So there. He never was no good so good bleeding riddance to him, that’s what I say.”
She was hoping to shock the man into leaving her alone, but Sid seemed unaffected by her bitter outburst. He looked about to say something, but another voice interrupted from the doorway. A gruff voice, with an officious tone that Gertie knew well.
“Well, well,” P.C. Northcott said, moving into the room. “I find that h’interesting. Very h’interesting indeed.”
Gertie sighed as she turned to face the constable, but it was Sid Barrett’s reaction that surprised her. With a muttered “Strewth!” he darted past the constable and practically ran from the room.
If she wasn’t so upset by the man’s rudeness she would have laughed. Constable Northcott was the last person on earth to reprimand anyone for annoying one of the servants. The only servant the constable had any time for was Mrs. Chubb, and that was because he enjoyed the sweets she gave him every time he visited her in the kitchen.
As for the rest of them, they was dirt under the constable’s feet, not worth any consideration. Which was a laugh, since he weren’t no better himself, having been brought up by a dust-man and a wife what took in laundry to keep food on the table.
One of these days, Gertie thought fiercely, she’d let him know she knew about his humble beginnings. That would put an end to his preening about with his fancy talk and all.
“I was looking for Mrs. Baxter,” Northcott said, puffing out his chest. “I ’ave urgent business with her. She’s not in her h’office, so where is she?”
Gertie raised her chin. “I don’t know where madam is. I’m not her bleeding keeper. She’s probably in her suite and won’t want to be disturbed.”
The constable’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no need to take that tone with me. Kindly go to her at once and tell her I need to speak with her. I’ll wait in the lobby.” He twisted around so fast he almost lost his balance.
Gertie waited until he was out of earshot then poked out her tongue. “Bloomin’ ninny he is,” she muttered. “Thinks he’s so clever. I wonder what he’d say if he knew everyone laughs at him behind his back.”
“Well, I hope you’re not the one to tell him that,” Pansy said, looking nervous. “It doesn’t do to upset the bobbies. You never know what they might do.”
Gertie uttered a short laugh. “That silly fool don’t know how to keep his helmet on straight. I’m not afraid of him.” She picked up the sweeper and tucked it under her arm. “I’d better go and tell madam he’s here, before he eats all the tarts Mrs. Chubb made for supper. I never seen a man with a sweet tooth like that one.”
“Give me the sweeper.” Pansy held out her hand. “I’ll finish in here for you.”
Pleasantly surprised, Gertie beamed at her. “That’s blinking good of you, Pansy. Ta ever so!”
Pansy gave her a weak smile and took the sweeper from her. “I ain’t got nothing else to do until we get ready for supper, so I might as well do the carpets.”
Gertie felt another twinge of sympathy. “You’re not seeing Samuel, then?”
“Nah.” Pansy’s shoulders sagged. “He said he was going to be busy this afternoon.”
“Well, look. Wait until I get back and then we’ll go for a walk with the twins. It’s their nanny’s day off so I promised to take them and I’ll be glad of the company.”
Pansy brightened. “Really? I’d love to go for a walk. I haven’t been out walking in ages.”
“Good. I’ll be back in half a mo.” Hurrying off, Gertie cursed Samuel under her breath. What was the matter with men that they couldn’t make up their minds what they wanted?
Samuel should do the right thing and tell Pansy he was never going to marry her, instead of stringing the poor girl along with hopes and dreams that weren’t ever going to come true.
One day she’d be thinking he really did love her and want to be with her, then he’d go and say something that would make her think he regretted ever coming back to Badgers End.
Maybe he should have stayed in London. Then he wouldn’t have raised her hopes again, just when she was starting to get over him. He’d been back a year, and never a word about his plans for the future. Their future. Or maybe there was no future for either of them. At least not together.
Thoroughly disgruntled, she stomped up the stairs to madam’s suite and rapped on the door. Mr. Baxter answered, and he didn’t look too happy, neither.
“Yes, what is it?”
Gertie pinched her lips together. Usually when he spoke like that he was arguing with madam. Which meant she’d better be bloody careful what she said to him.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said, bobbing a curtsey, “I’m sorry to disturb you but P.C. Northcott is here and he says he has urgent business with madam. He’s waiting in the lobby.”
Mr. Baxter gave her a curt nod. “Thank you, Gertie. I’ll inform Mrs. Baxter. Please tell the constable she’ll be down in a moment or two.”
“Yes, sir.” Relieved to have escaped without incurring the master’s wrath, Gertie fled down the hall to the stairs. Next time she came back, she vowed silently, she’d come back as a man. So help her, she would.
