The chunks of willow in the grate had allbut disappeared when sleep finally came for Mary. She had cried for whatseemed to her like an eternity: she cried for the pain in her body; she criedfor her granny; she cried for her sister, Edie; she cried for the life shewanted; but most of all, she cried for the life to which she had given herselfover.
Chapter Five
Wednesday18th January 1911
Mary’sfirst half-day off had finally arrived. She was granted half a day in theprevious two weeks but, under pressure from Clara and Eliza, decided to spendit on needlework practice which, as far as Mary was concerned, had made nodifference at all to her inability to stitch.
It was one o’clock, just when the rest ofthe servants would be settling down for lunch, when Mary Mercer flung open thekitchen door and bound out into the fresh air.
‘Eh! Ferme la porte!’Monsieur Bastion called after her.
Mary gasped at the air like a miner whohad been trapped underground for weeks on end. At last, she was free,albeit for just half a day. She didn’t need to be back until nine o’clockand she intended to make the most of every single second. She hoped togoodness that her letter to Edie had arrived on time, giving warning of herimminent visit. Maybe they could go for a long walk together. Theremight even be time to get a ride into Rye for the afternoon.
The pervading snows had now completelyvanished, leaving no trace of ever having been, and today, the sun shonebrightly. As Mary hurried up the back path from Blackfriars towards herhome, she looked out at the beautiful sun’s rays, illuminating the manicuredlawns and the orchard around the ruined abbey in the distance. She was sohappy to be free that she felt sure that the sun was shining just for her.
Mary ran the final few yards, wanting tospend as much of her precious time at home as possible. She quietlypushed open the front door, wanting to surprise her mother and Edie. Herfather would likely be out at work but she hoped to see him at teatime. Tiptoeing silently into the passageway, Mary closed the door without a soundand peered into the sitting-room: empty. She crept along the shorthallway to the back of the house and opened the kitchen door. To hersurprise, she found her father eating lunch at the kitchen table with hermother and Edie.
‘Surprise!’ Mary cried, bursting into theroom.
‘Oh my godfathers, you scared the livingdaylights out of me!’ her mother said with a smile. She stood and huggedMary.
Over her mother’s shoulder, Edie lookedup, briefly met Mary’s eyes, then flicked her gaze to meet their father’s eyes:Mary was perturbed by the conspiratorial look that passed between them. Her mother, as if sensing that Mary wasn’t about to receive the same welcomefrom Edie and her father, kept her held in a tight embrace. Letting herarms fall limply to her side, Mary let go and was waiting for either her sisteror father to look back at her. Finally, her mother released her grip.
‘Sit down, Mary dear, there’s tea in thepot. Thomas, fetch Mary a cup,’ her mother said. ‘We’ve had somevery sad news reach us.’
‘What’s happened?’ Mary asked.
‘It’s Caroline’s William: he’s dead fromconsumption.’
‘Oh,’ was all Mary could think tosay. She barely knew William but was mightily grateful that he had takenher horrible sister all the way to live in Bristol. She hoped that thisdidn’t mean Caroline would be making a return. ‘Is Caroline coming back?’
Her mother shook her head. ‘I don’tknow—it’s too soon to say,’ she said, pouring Mary a cup of tea. ‘I’mminded to go and stay with her a few days, but your dad’s not keen on theidea.’
‘Who’s paying for you to get there, then?’he barked. ‘Better that she comes home here if anything.’
‘We’ll see,’ her mother said. Shesmiled and changed the subject. ‘Will you be wanting some food? There isn’t much, but you’re welcome.’
Mary glanced at the bare plates on thetable. Her family were existing on scraps of bread and the merest sliverof butter between them. Her father’s presence at the lunch table usuallymeant no work, which meant no money. As hungry as she felt, she couldn’tpossibly take their food. ‘No, no lunch for me, thank you—I’ve alreadyeaten.’
Her father snorted and mumbled, ‘Bet youhave, some fancy three-course meal or other, I shouldn’t wonder.’
Mary knew what might cheer herfather. She reached into her bag and pulled out a handful of money—it wasevery penny she had earned so far at Blackfriars. She placed it on thetable in front of him.
‘It’s my wages so far—’ Mary began. She stopped mid-sentence when her father reached up, snatched the money fromthe table and pocketed it without so much as looking up.
‘Thank you, Mary,’ her mother mouthedsoftly.
Edie finished her last mouthful of bread,stood up and left the room. Mary hurried after her. ‘Wait, Edie!’she called, chasing after her sister. Edie continued up the stairs andinto their shared bedroom without so much as a glance back at her twin.
Edie stood defiantly at the window, hershoulders dramatically surging up and down with every angry breath. ‘Justgo away!’ Edie cried. ‘Go back to Blackfriars; I don’t want you here.’
‘Please talk to me, Edie,’ Mary pleaded,reaching out to touch her sister’s hand. ‘I hate the job and I wish togoodness that I hadn’t taken it from you. One of the reasons I came hometoday was to beg you to go back there tonight instead of me; they’d take you onin a flash. I’m terrible at being a third housemaid.’
Edith turned to face her sister, herraging eyes red and watery. Her jaw was clenched and a small purple veinthrobbed at her left temple. ‘Oh, it’s alright for me now, is it? Have you got something much
