“That would be fine,” Josie said.

  Kathleen stopped in the middle of the dark hallway and opened a door. Frigid air came out to meet them.

  “This room hasn’t been used in twenty years or more,” Kathleen said, as if enjoying imparting this news. “In fact, I can’t remember when it was used last. When guests came, they got the good rooms, you see. And there have not been any guests in quite a while now.” She paused, and Josie gave a nod to show she was paying attention. Kathleen walked ahead into the room. Josie followed.

  “I give it a once-over occasionally, but I don’t know if we’ll find mice in the mattress or not.” She put Josie’s bag down on the floor with a thump and gave the mattress lying on the single, iron-framed bed an experimental prod. Then she walked around, removing dust sheets from hidden pieces of furniture. These she gathered into her arms.

  “Wait here,” Kathleen said. “I’ll go and find bedclothes.” She then left.

  Josie looked around her. The room was small but not bad. It contained a single bed, a tall mahogany chest of drawers, matching wardrobe and a low, upholstered chair by the window. There was also a small fireplace, unlaid. A fine layer of dust lay on the top of the chest of drawers, but otherwise the room looked clean enough. The floor was knotted wood with a braided rug beside the bed. Hardly what anyone would call cosy, but at least it was a space of her own. She’d have to see about coal for her fire, since she had brought her coal allowance. She went over to the window to look out. The room was so cold that there were frost patterns on the inside of the glass. Beyond them, snowflakes were now swirling over an impossibly flat countryside. The horizon was broken by a line of bare trees. The view beyond was blurred by the snow. She wondered where the airfield was and felt sorry for those pilots who had to fly in such weather. Surely it was dangerous enough waiting to encounter enemy fighters without having to negotiate a snowstorm.

  Kathleen re-entered. “Oh, there you are,” she said, spotting Josie by the window.

  “Yes, I checked it out. Nothing worth stealing,” Josie said with heavy sarcasm. Kathleen had the grace to blush.

  “I brought sheets and blankets and the eiderdown off the bed in the next room,” she said. “Can you make your own bed?”

  “I’d appreciate some help,” Josie said. “As you can see, I can only use one arm at the moment.”

  “How do you manage, then?” Kathleen asked.

  “Not very easily. It takes me ages to get dressed and undressed. The nuns where I was staying usually came to help.”

  “You were with the nuns?” Kathleen’s expression softened. “You’re a Catholic, then?”

  “No, I’m not. I was sent to this convent when I came out of hospital. They needed the hospital beds for people more badly wounded, you see, so the nuns took me in. Very nice they were, too.”

  “Any Irish nuns amongst them?”

  “Yes, there were,” Josie said, not quite sure whether this was true or not but hoping to find a way to win over this hostile woman. “Lovely girls. All very kind.”

  Kathleen nodded with satisfaction, as if she were personally responsible for creating the kind Irish nuns. She pulled the bed out from the wall and went around it, and together they put on the sheets and blankets.

  “We’ve a hot water bottle down in the kitchen,” she said. “You can come down when you’ve put away your things.”

  “That won’t take long.” Josie laughed.

  Kathleen eyed the bag. “That’s all you brought? I thought the rest of your stuff was downstairs.”

  “That’s all I own,” Josie said. “I was bombed at night, wearing my nightie. Even that was blown off me, so I had nothing. Not even a stitch of clothing. What I’m wearing now came from people who had died at the hospital.”

  For the first time, she saw compassion in the other woman’s eyes.

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Kathleen said. “You can have a look through the things the mistress is donating to the clothing drive. She’s quite a bit bigger than you are, but there should be some jumpers that might fit you. Otherwise, you could unravel them and knit them up again for yourself.”

  “When I can hold needles,” Josie said, and Kathleen returned the grin.

  “Oh, you’re right. I keep forgetting.”

  Now that she had broken through that initial layer of hostility, Josie decided to press ahead. “So you now have to take care of this big house by yourself, do you?”

  “I do,” Kathleen said. “There were two maids, a cook and a gardener before the war. Now they’ve all gone and enlisted into the army or God knows what, leaving me all alone here. And let me tell you, it’s a lot of work. Luckily, she only uses a few rooms, and we keep the others closed off under dust sheets. But I do all the cooking, too.”

  “I’m happy to give you a hand,” Josie said. “I’m not sure how useful I can be right now, but when my collarbone has healed, I can take over some of the cooking. I used to work in a nice tea shop, you know. I love to bake.”

  “That’s good news,” Kathleen said. “I wouldn’t say no to some help. She’s very picky about her food, the mistress is. Well, picky about everything, actually.” She brushed off her hands. “Well, that’s that, then. I’d best be getting downstairs. She’ll be wanting her tea soon. Come on down when you’re settled. The kitchen’s down the hall at the back.”

  “I will. Thank you,” Josie said. “I’ll try not to be a nuisance.”

  “I’m sure you won’t, Lord love you,” Kathleen said. “In fact, you’ll be a bit of company for me in the long evenings. She keeps herself to herself, you know. Listens to the wireless or reads but never was one for a chat. She’s one of the old school. She’s the mistress, and I’m the servant, and there’s a line between us that can never be crossed.”

  “Have you been with her long?”

  “I have. I came here as a young housemaid when the old master was in charge. Her father, you know. Oh, he was a proper tartar. Everything had to be just so, and heaven help you if you made one tiny mistake. He sacked a parlour maid once for knocking over the gravy jug. And I’m afraid she’s inherited his nature, too.”

  “Was she an only child?”

  “She was. Her mother died giving birth to her. Maybe that’s why the father was so bitter and harsh. He blamed the child for his wife’s death.”

  “And he never married again?”

  “He never did.”

  “And she never married?”

  “I think I heard she had a sweetheart once, but nothing came of it. She went away to a fancy finishing school, and then she worked for a while in London as some great lady’s companion. But then she came back here during the last war and stayed with her father until he died. In any case, she was already here when I came in 1918, at the end of the war. That was before Ireland was divided, you know. Plenty of troubles in those days with bombings and executions and the like. I wanted a bit of peace and quiet for myself.”

  “Do you miss your own country? Do you ever go back?”

  A sad look came over Kathleen’s face. “I didn’t have the money to go back in the early days when my family was still alive—not that the old master would have given me the time off. Only one half day a week it was in those days. They did let me travel to my mother’s funeral, God rest her beautiful soul. Now I don’t go back any more. I’ve a brother and two sisters, but they have their own families and their own troubles. And quite a few nieces and nephews. So do you not have a family, missus?”

  “The name’s Josie,” she said. “And I do still have a father and brothers and sisters, but they certainly don’t have room for me, even if my stepmother would make me welcome, which she doesn’t.”

  “But you’re married, aren’t you?”

  “I am. My husband’s off with the army somewhere. No idea where. I got one letter from him and couldn’t read a word. Most of it was blacked out by the censor, and the rest was shrunk so small it was impossible.”

  “And children? You don’t have children?”

  “No children,” Josie said. “We have not been blessed that way. But thinking about it now, I’m glad, for any child would surely have perished when the house was blown up.”

  “Ah, ’tis surely a wicked, sorrowful world,” Kathleen said. “But you’ll be safe enough here. They’ve got plenty of guns around that aerodrome. Oh, you should hear the noise if any enemy planes try to come too close.”

  “It’s a new aerodrome, built just for the war, is it?”

  “It is. Oh, you should have seen how the mistress tried to stop it from being built here. Tried to take it all the way to Parliament. But nobody cared that she had a house close by and that the planes were interrupting her sleep. Well, they wouldn’t, would they? The defence of the country has to come first.” She stopped. “And here am I chatting away when there’s work to be done. If you come down to the kitchen, there will be a cup of tea.”

  “I don’t suppose there might be something to eat?” Josie said. “I’ve not had a thing since breakfast, and I’m starting to feel quite woozy.”

  “You poor woman. You come down, and I’ll make you a ham sandwich to keep you going.”

  “You have ham?” Josie could not disguise her astonishment.

  Kathleen gave a knowing little smile. “We got a piece for Christmas. It came from Mr Sparks, a local farmer. Apparently this was a pig that died and thus couldn’t be part of the government distribution programme.”

  “What did it die of?” Josie asked suspiciously.

  “Nothing catching, that’s for sure. Probably banged its head.” Kathleen laughed.

  “On what?”

  “On the farmer’s poleaxe! The local people all chipped in to buy the pig and divvy it up, and the mistress decided to throw caution to the winds and join in. Unusual for her. She usually keeps herself to herself. But she does love a slice of ham.” She paused, then nodded. “I’ll be off, then, and let you get settled.”

  Josie heard her footsteps receding down the hallway. She hung up her overcoat and scarf, put her few items in the top drawer, then went to find the lavatory and washbasin. They were next door, which was convenient. On returning to her room, she was painfully aware of how cold it was. Not a place to linger when there was a promised cup of tea in the kitchen. She realized then that her feet were cold and wet, the inherited shoes not having the best of soles, and changed into the spare pair of stockings she had been given. There wasn’t much to be done about the shoes. She hoped that Miss Harcourt might have a pair of rubber boots to spare, or even a pair of house shoes. She combed her hair, then set off in search of the kitchen.

  CHAPTER 8

  Josie went cautiously down the stairs and turned towards the back of the house. There were several doors along the dark little hallway, and she was afraid to open the wrong one. Luckily she heard the clatter of pots and pans and opened the door into a big, warm kitchen. There was a sturdy solid fuel-burning stove on one wall and a Welsh dresser on the one opposite, with rows of cups, saucers and plates arranged neatly. A window looked out on to a back garden with bare garden beds and, beyond them, fruit trees and a pond. All in all, a pleasant room. Josie had little chance to observe it, however, because her eyes were focused on a ham sitting on the kitchen table. Ham had been a rare treat even before the war. The grocer used to have a whole leg of ham sitting on his counter, and he’d carve off wafer-thin slices. This was only a small portion of a leg, and Josie felt guilty about eating something that was a treat for the mistress.

  “Look, I shouldn’t take any of the ham,” she said. “Not if it was your Christmas treat.”

  “It won’t keep much longer, will it?” Kathleen brought the teapot over to the kitchen table and took down two cups from the dresser. “Besides, one slice won’t hurt nobody.” Then she cut a slice of ham, which she placed between two thick hunks of bread.

  “You like mustard with it?” she asked.

  “That would be lovely, thank you.” Josie started eating while Kathleen poured the tea. She felt warmth coming back to frigid limbs.

  “It’s good to be warm again,” she said. “That room is ruddy cold. Any chance of having a bit of coal for the fire in there? I do have my ration book with me.”

  “You’d have to ask the mistress,” Kathleen said. “We haven’t had much luck with the coal. We’re too far out from Spalding, you see. The coalman won’t come out here for a small order, since he can sell everything he’s got closer to town. We’ve been trying to make do with wood, but again we don’t do too well. If a gale brings down a tree, there are plenty of men with saws out to get it for themselves. It’s not easy being women alone at a time like this.” She gave an apologetic little smile. “So I’m thinking you’ll not be wanting to spend too much time up in that room.”

  “Where do you sleep?” Josie asked. “Up on the servants’ floor?”

  “I do not,” Kathleen said firmly. “I used to when there were other servants, but these days I’ve taken over the old butler’s room next to the kitchen. It’s tiny, but it gets the warmth from this stove, you see. Nice and cosy. And not as noisy as up on that top floor. Are you a sound sleeper, then?”

  “I was, before the war,” Josie said. “Back in London, there weren’t many nights when there wasn’t an air raid.”

  “And you’ll be hearing the planes here, right enough. They always seem to be returning at night.” She pulled up a chair opposite Josie. “Still, it’s not for long, is it? You’ll be off somewhere as soon as you’ve recovered.”

  Josie nodded between mouthfuls, trying to think where that might be. Would she be strong enough to work as a land girl? But Stan had made it clear he didn’t want her joining any of the armed forces, where she might come in contact with men. And she didn’t fancy going back to the city, even if she could find work and somewhere to stay.

  “So what’s it like in London now?” Kathleen asked. “Pretty grim, is it?”

  Josie nodded again, still getting every ounce of satisfaction from the ham in her mouth. “It’s bad,” she said eventually. “Bombing every night recently. Whole parts of the city burning. And it’s becoming hard to get food. We have the coupons in the ration books, but there’s nothing on the shelves. I suppose it’s easier out here in the country?”

  “In a way,” Kathleen said. “It would be if we grew our own food. We have the grounds, the space to do it. But Ted, our gardener, he went and joined up, and I don’t have the time to work in the garden as well as run this house.”

  “Of course you don’t,” Josie said. She looked around the kitchen, taking in the various crockery on the dresser. “You have pretty cups and saucers,” she said. “The café where I used to work had nice china. I used to love handling it.”

  “These are only the everyday set,” Kathleen said. “She’s got some lovely china in the dining room—Royal Doulton, Royal Worcester, Rockingham. The very best, you know. Only she never uses it these days. Her old father used to entertain, but she’s not the type. Between you and me, I think she’s a bit shy.”

  Josie nodded, cradling her cup in her hands before finishing her tea.

  “Your mistress has lots of lovely things,” Josie said. “I’ve never seen pictures on the walls like that, except in a museum.”

  Kathleen leaned closer. “She used to have a lot more,” she whispered. “The old man inherited from his father, and the family had made a tidy packet out in India in the early days. They had land, too—where the airfield is now, you know. And a home farm. But that had to be sold when her father died, because of the death duties. It doesn’t seem right, does it, for the government to take so much when someone dies.

  “Anyway, she was still left quite comfortably off until the Depression came and her stocks lost their value. It gets harder by the minute. In fact, I know she’s sold off her mother’s jewellery and a couple of good paintings. She doesn’t think I know, but I know most things that go on around here.” She gave Josie a triumphant little smile that made Josie feel a bit uneasy.

  Josie finished her tea and wondered what to do next. A return to her room did not seem inviting, and yet Kathleen would want to get on with preparing Miss Harcourt’s dinner, and Josie didn’t want to feel in the way.

  “I’d offer to peel some spuds for you if I could hold the peeler,” she said. “If there’s something I can do, I’d be happy to do it.”

  Kathleen paused, as if sizing up Josie’s ability with one arm. “Well, you could get the tea tray laid to take in her tea at four o’clock. Tray’s in that slot. Tray cloths are in the second drawer of the dresser. You can see the cups and the spoons are in the top drawer.”

  Josie obeyed, running a loving hand over the embroidered tray cloth as she placed it on the tray and then adding a cup, saucer and tea plate. Kathleen boiled more water and filled a small Chinese teapot.

  “She likes China tea in the afternoons,” she said. “Lapsang souchong, served with lemon if you please. Tastes like dishwater to me.”

  She opened a cake tin. “I don’t know what there is left to eat. I made mince pies over Christmas with the last of the mincemeat we had put away before the war, but they are long gone. No biscuits to be had at the shop. No sugar either. So it will have to be a watercress sandwich. She won’t be too pleased about that.”

  She loaded the tray and then turned to Josie.

  “You can bring the sandwich plate if you don’t mind. Save me going back again.”

  Josie picked it up and followed, feeling strangely reluctant to face those critical eyes again. Kathleen put the tray on the hall table to open the sitting room door.

  “I’ve brought your tea, madam,” she said.

  Miss Harcourt barely acknowledged her as Kathleen pulled up a small table and placed the tea tray on top. Then she poured the tea and added a slice of lemon and two lumps of sugar. Josie looked for a spot to place the sandwiches, then squeezed them on to the table.