Annie sat alone at the tiny table, looking at the Carlisles’ overgrown garden and the dilapidated shed that rested in the far corner near the fence. Hawthorn grew bushy, intermingled with tall weeds. Foxglove sprouted in thick clumps in the shady corners. The effect was wild and reckless – Mother Nature left to her own devices. An old fountain of a woman holding an urn stood dry and forlorn amid the mess. Annie found she rather liked it and longed to paint it. She liked paintings with character. Annie was surprised at this state of affairs. Isobel was so organised and fastidious, it amazed Annie that she let things get so out of hand.
‘Our gardener, Davis, is cook’s husband. He’s the man who suffered the heart attack,’ Marie said.
Annie started. This wasn’t the first time Marie had sidled into the room, unnoticed. Because of this unnerving habit, Annie was always on her best behaviour, lest Marie was watching her, skulking in some corner.
‘They’ll be back eventually. Benton thought we should get another man in to replace him, but Isobel wouldn’t hear of it. She’s loyal that way. Says that Davis, his father, and grandfather before him, have been with the family so long that it would be a breach to find someone else to do his job. She also insisted on continuing to pay the man’s wages. Loyalty is important to Isobel. So is honesty.’
Annie tried to push her fears back as she bit into a biscuit, but the buttery sweetness turned to sawdust in her mouth.
‘Your mum is here,’ Marie said. The look of disappointment in her eyes broke Annie’s heart. ‘We trusted you, Annie. Why did you lie?’
Annie wondered what would happen if she ran out the door, through the garden, and out onto the street. She would just run and run until she collapsed. No. That wouldn’t do. Annie Havers might be a liar, but she was not a quitter. She would never go back to her mother’s home. Her mother couldn’t force her to go live with Harold Green. If she tried, Annie would run away. She knew that she would have to face her mum at some point. She had run away in the middle of the night, after all. But she didn’t think her mother would ever find her here in Kensington.
She stood up, ready to do battle. If Isobel fired her, she’d get another job. This time, she’d be honest. She was a good worker – no one could deny that. She had to trust that she would not starve on the streets.
‘You’ll have to take my word that I have a good reason for my falsehood, Miss Marie. My father is dead. That part wasn’t a lie.’ She met Marie’s scrutiny head on. ‘I’d best go and speak to my mum.’ She pushed away from the table. It seemed the time for reckoning was upon her.
Annie walked down the hall towards the drawing room, where she could hear her mother’s hushed tone and Miss Isobel’s clear, ringing voice.
‘Honestly, Mrs Green, we had no idea that Annie had any family at all. She told us she was an orphan.’
Annie paused outside the doorway just in time to hear her mother gasp. She threw her shoulders back and stepped into the room.
‘Hello, Mum.’ Annie didn’t expect the rush of emotion at seeing her mum. It washed over her in waves, knocking her off balance. Tears threatened, but Annie bit them back. Her mum had faded since Annie had last seen her. Violet Havers Green had started her new life with a glow in her cheeks and the promise of a better future, for her and her daughter. She had been a beauty as a young girl, and age had only refined her features. Her clean complexion, pink cheeks, and dark luxuriant hair turned heads, even now. That beauty hadn’t diminished when Annie’s father had died. The youthful glow had gone – Annie knew that tragedy could do that – but Violet Havers’ beauty just took on a new dimension, one of depth and character.
Annie noticed the silver threads laced through her mum’s hair, and the pinched look on the mouth that used to smile all the time. The sky blue dress and matching hat did little to flatter her already wan complexion.
‘Oh, Annie,’ Mrs Green said. She stood up and opened her arms. Without thinking Annie ran to them.
Miss Isobel didn’t move. When she had shown Mrs Green into the room, she had taken the middle of the big sofa, forcing her visitor to sit in one of the spindly chairs opposite. Annie peeked over her mum’s shoulder and caught Miss Isobel watching them, a look of calculated judgement on her face. Annie realised what was at stake. She needed to convince her mother and Miss Isobel that she was better off here in the Carlisle home. She realised that she would have to tell the truth and that the telling of it could change her life in ways that she might not like.
After an eternity, her mother pushed Annie away, holding her shoulders in a vice grip while she stared in her eyes. ‘Why did you run away? Harold and I have been looking everywhere for you. We only got lucky because Harold knows someone who knows someone – oh, never mind. That’s not important. I’ve found you. That’s all that matters. You can explain yourself on the way home.’
‘No,’ Annie said. She disentangled from her mother’s embrace and stepped out of her reach. She lined herself up with the door on purpose. She’d run if need be.
‘Annie Green, you listen to me right now –’ Her mother’s voice threatened to grow shrill with indignation.
‘Stop it. I’m not Annie Green. I’m Annie Havers. I’m not taking his name. I’m not going home with you.’ Annie cast a glance at Miss Isobel.
‘Mrs Green, perhaps we should let Annie explain. Although I agree that Annie is a child, and should do what you ask, perhaps if we let her share her side of the story –’
‘I’m not explaining anything –’ Annie started to back away from her mother and Isobel.
A key turned in the lock. The door opened and shut, followed by the unmistakable cadence of Miss Catherine’s footsteps in the hall. ‘Where is everyone?’ Miss Catherine called out. Annie could have sobbed with relief.
Before Miss Isobel could commandeer the situation, Annie called out, ‘We’re in here, Miss Catherine.’
‘What’s going on?’ Miss Catherine stood in the doorway, beautifully dressed, a magazine tucked under her arm. Stray curls had escaped her hat. Her eyes – even the swollen one – were alive with energy, her cheeks flushed. She took off her gloves, and tucked them in the handbag she held, while she surveyed Annie, Isobel, and Violet Havers Green. ‘Annie? What’s happened?’
Annie nodded towards her mother. ‘This is my mum. She wants me to come home.’
‘Mrs Green, I’d like you to meet my sister-in-law, Catherine Carlisle.’
‘Please forgive my unseemly black eye.’ Miss Catherine smiled widely. Only Annie could tell the smile was forced. Only Annie noticed the wild look in Miss Catherine’s eyes. While Miss Catherine set her handbag and the magazine down on the coffee table and extended her hand to Annie’s mum, Annie moved a little closer to the door.
‘Annie hasn’t been quite truthful with us,’ Miss Isobel said.
‘Really? Please explain.’ Miss Catherine said.
‘She’s not an orphan,’ Mrs Havers said. ‘She’s got a mother and a father who want her home with them. Annie, I’ll not have you work in service.’
Annie resisted the urge to run. ‘I’ll not go home with you, Mum. Harold Green is not my father. My father’s dead.’
‘Let’s discuss this like rational adults, shall we?’ Mrs Carlisle sat down on the other vacant chair. A small matching stool sat next to her chair. ‘Annie, come in the room, please. No one is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. Come sit beside me.’ Miss Catherine pointed to the stool. She smiled and faced Annie’s mum.
‘I’m the wife of Mr Benton Carlisle, Mrs Green. Annie was originally retained as a maid to work in the house. But I was thinking we’d have a little renegotiation of Annie’s duties. I was thinking that rather than working as a maid – in service, as you say – we could get creative and think of something else.’
‘This is the first I’ve heard of this,’ Isobel said. Her cheeks flushed crimson. Annie couldn’t tell whether from anger at being usurped by Miss Catherine before a witness or from sheer embarrassment.
‘I think we should discuss any arrangements privately, Catherine, don’t you?’ Miss Isobel’s desperation to resume control over-rode her sense of social decorum.
‘No, I don’t. Especially since Mrs Green is here. She should have a say in the matter, I think. She is Annie’s mother, after all, and I’m sure she’d like to leave today knowing that Annie is in good hands,’ Miss Catherine said.
‘My daughter was not raised to be in service,’ Mrs Green said. ‘Had her father not died, she would be getting an education, finding a husband.’
‘I understand that, Mrs Green. Lucky for us, your daughter is an excellent worker. She is charming, poised, and a joy to be around. She is a credit to you.’
Mrs Green blushed. Annie sensed her soften towards Catherine. ‘Thank you.’
Miss Catherine leaned back and crossed her legs. ‘I think I’ve come up with a solution that will work for all of us.’
Annie sized up the women in the room, Miss Isobel and her mum against Miss Catherine and Marie, who slipped into the room unnoticed and now stood in the corner, watching the drama unfold. Marie caught Annie’s eye and gave a slight smile.
‘I am proposing that Annie work for me as what, I believe, is known as a paid companion. She will do some light chores for all of us. We don’t have much staff, and Annie has been helping Marie in the kitchen.’
‘I like cooking,’ Annie piped up. ‘And Miss Marie is teaching me.’
‘Annie’s a smart girl, a fast learner,’ Marie said. ‘She’s been a great help to me.’
Miss Isobel stood up. She reached for the magazine that her sister-in-law had placed on the table next to her handbag, but Miss Catherine put her hand on top of it. ‘If you don’t mind, Isobel. I haven’t read that yet.’
Miss Isobel sniffed. ‘Mrs Green, it was nice to meet you. I’ll leave you and your daughter in Mrs Carlisle’s capable hands. Marie, come.’ Miss Isobel walked out of the room, Marie following behind her like a well-trained dog, desperate for approval and eager to please.
After they had gone, Cat continued. ‘Annie has told me a little bit about why she left home. I think you should hear her out before you force her to return. I would very much like her to stay with me. I’ve grown fond of her. She has a nice place to stay here, and you can visit her any time you like.’ Mrs Carlisle turned to Annie. ‘Do you want to stay with me, Annie?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Annie said.
‘Why did you run away, Annie?’ Mrs Green said.
Annie cast a desperate glance at Miss Catherine.
‘Tell the truth, Annie. She’s your mother.’
Annie knew that her very future hung on the words she spoke at this moment. She also knew the devastation her revelation about her stepfather would cause. She swallowed, and tried to figure out how to explain, knowing her words would ruin her mother’s life.
‘Do you remember the night after the wedding, when I had a nightmare?’
Mrs Green nodded. ‘Of course I do. You hadn’t cried out like that since you were a wee thing.’
Annie moved over to her mother. She knelt down in front of her and took her hand. ‘I’m sorry to tell you this, Mum. I know you’re going to be mad. Harold came into my room. I woke up and found him standing over my bed, Mum. He puts his arm around me, and pulls me onto his lap when you’re not home –’
‘Enough,’ Mrs Green said. She turned on Miss Catherine. ‘Have you been putting these ideas in my daughter’s head?’
‘She hasn’t. She wouldn’t!’ Annie cried out. ‘Mum. It’s true.’
Miss Catherine sat on her chair, still as a statue, somehow withdrawn into herself, as though she wanted to give Annie and her mother this moment alone. Mrs Green had let go of Annie’s hand. The tears that welled up in her eyes spilled over now. The black that she used to darken her eyelashes loosened and ran like inky rivers down her cheeks.
‘I’ll keep her safe, Mrs Green. I promise you that. She’ll be well looked after.’ Miss Catherine opened her handbag and pulled a handkerchief out, a fine linen thing with lace as thin as a spider’s web. She handed it to Annie’s mum.
Mrs Green did what she could to clean her face, while Annie and Miss Catherine sat by watching. After a minute, Mrs Green composed herself.
‘I won’t force you, Annie. You’re a good girl, and I love you, but I don’t believe you. Not one word.’ She stood, so did Miss Catherine. Mrs Green stared at her daughter. ‘I don’t even know you any more. Good day, Mrs Carlisle. I’ll see myself out.’ Annie watched as Miss Catherine extended her hand, but her mum ignored it. She walked out of the room, down the hall, and out the front door.
‘I’m sorry, Annie. Sometimes women don’t want to see what’s right in front of them.’ Miss Catherine studied Annie’s face.
‘I’m glad the truth is out, ma’am. And thank you.’
‘It’s been an emotional afternoon. Why don’t you go take a walk in the fresh air?’
‘Thank you, ma’am. I’ll bring up a tray before I go. There’s fresh biscuits.’
‘Thank you, Annie.’
Annie headed out into the square and walked with purpose on the path that circled it. With each step, the tension slipped away. Miss Catherine had come to her rescue, and now she was free. But the victory was a painful one. Annie would never forget the look on her mother’s face when Annie told her about Harold’s attempt to visit her room in the night. Her mum hadn’t believed her.
Annie understood the desperation that drove her mum. After her dad died, there wasn’t enough money for Annie and her mother to live on. Mrs Havers always said they’d make do, but they hadn’t. They’d started to sell things. Annie used to see her mum sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the pile of bills that needed to be paid. Harold Green offered the promise of security, a home, the knowledge there would be meat for the pot. Mrs Green was now financially secure, but it seemed she’d traded one problem for another. At least Annie wouldn’t have to go back to Harold’s house. She was safe from his unwanted attentions. Thanks to Miss Catherine.
Annie avoided Miss Isobel, who spent the rest of the day in her room, complaining of a headache. Dinner was uneventful. Blackie was out. Miss Isobel and Miss Marie ate in Miss Isobel’s suite on a tray. Mrs Carlisle and Annie ate in the kitchen, together. By nine o’clock sharp, Annie had cleared and washed the dinner dishes, laid the trays for the morning, and put away the linens that were delivered earlier by the laundress. She was just about to head upstairs when someone banged on the door.
It’s Mum and Harold come for me. Annie’s heart thudded as she undid her apron, hung it on the hook, and hurried to the door.
‘Who is it?’ Miss Isobel stood on the second-floor landing.
‘I don’t know, Isobel. I cannot see through doors.’ Miss Catherine hurried down the stairs ahead of her. By the time she opened the door, the banging had become a loud relentless staccato.
‘Blackie? What on earth –’
‘So sorry. Forgot my key.’ Mr Blackwell stumbled into the room. He lost his balance but righted himself at the last minute. He stood swaying, smiling at everyone, alcohol fumes emanating from him in waves.
‘Annie, you can go on up to bed,’ Miss Catherine said.
‘Make some coffee first, Annie,’ Miss Isobel said.
Annie turned to the kitchen.
‘I don’t want her seeing this, Isobel. She doesn’t need to contend with a drunk.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Catherine. She’s a sensible girl. She’s seen Blackie drunk before. You and Marie are acting foolish over this girl. You know nothing of housekeeping, what’s appropriate for someone of Annie’s status to tend to,’ Miss Isobel said.
Miss Catherine acted as though she hadn’t heard Miss Isobel. ‘Annie, go on up. I’ll make Mr Blackwell some coffee.’
Annie didn’t have to be told twice.