Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
TUESDAY, DECEMBER 27, 1927
C lara
Mama’s watch slips from my wrist, landing on the locker-room floor with a muffled clatter. I suppress a frustrated groan and bend over to retrieve it. In my overtired state, I must not have properly secured the watch.
Pressing the clasp tightly against the inside of my wrist, I wince at the pinch of tender skin. Mama has been present in my thoughts during the Christmas season. Traditions have a way of signalling her absence in our lives. My mind shifts to William and how I shared with him my greatest loss and told him about the life we have cobbled together after she left us.
Though my dear friend Rebecca knows of my mother’s passing, I haven’t talked openly with her about the details or the ramifications of such a loss, not like I found myself able to do in William’s company. In a strange way, our shared grief brings us closer together. If you’ve never known loss, you simply can’t comprehend how it changes every minute aspect of your life. Every breath you take is altered without that person beside you.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the sombre thoughts. I have enough of a day ahead of me as it is. The least I can do is start the morning in a better state of mind. I look about the locker room. Louisa still hasn’t arrived. Checking my watch, I note that she has ten minutes to be dressed and standing in the roll-call line.
With my hair combed into a tight bun, I am about to go in search of her when she pushes through the door, bustling toward her locker with her uniform, jacket, and winter accessories bundled in her arms.
I take her jacket from her arms and hang it in the locker. “You’re going to make us both late.” I try to etch the tsk from my words, tugging her uniform from its hanger while she pulls her day dress over her head.
Her head pops into view again. “I have good news.”
“About what?” I glance around the room and realize both Hazel and the new maid, Gwen, are readying themselves at their designated lockers. “I thought you were going to find Hazel.”
“I went to see Mr. Barnes.”
I feel as though she has punched me in the stomach. “You what?” I feel the urge to raise my voice. I specifically told Lou to stay away from the man.
“Before you go working yourself into a tizzy, hear me out.” Louisa takes the uniform from my hands and begins slipping into it. “I wanted to know what really happened between you two, and he told me.” Louisa places a hand on top of my arm. “I understand why you did what you did, and he does too.”
I am taken aback by this and feel my world tilt slightly. I pass Lou her apron before tying it in back for her. I didn’t want her to know. I didn’t want anyone to know. My shame at having found myself in such a predicament is enough to make my skin crawl.
“He isn’t going to speak with Ms. Thompson or Mr. Olson. You have no reason to worry over the incident at all. Your job is safe, I promise you. Everything will be all right now.” Louisa squeezes my arm reassuringly.
She pulls her hair back and secures her cap in place as I consider her news. I am embarrassed that my sister now knows the full extent of my disgrace. Even so, I feel a hint of relief seep into my awareness, knowing that my job is no longer in jeopardy.
Louisa smiles broadly at me. “Water under the bridge, Clara.” She glances at the clock on the wall as I realize the other maids are moving toward the door. “Time to go. I am still aiming for that holiday bonus, and you should be too.”
We say goodbye at the fifth-floor landing, and I take the opportunity to give my sister a grateful hug. I should have trusted that Lou would know precisely what to do.
I climb the final three floors, and by the time I step onto the eighth floor, I am eager to get to work. With 1928 right around the corner, I remind myself of the hope that comes with new beginnings. I am more than ready to put Mr. Barnes and his advances behind me.
The morning passes pleasantly as I tend to the first two suites on my roster. I knock on the door of the suite belonging to a kind family, whose little boy favours the sweets I leave on his pillow, and am greeted by the four-year-old and his mother. She smiles when she tells me little Joseph isn’t convinced I will get my gift unless he hands it to me himself. They invite me to sit on the brushed velvet sofa, and he helps me untie the ribbon and explore the basket of goodies. Inside are treats from the British grocer and a package of speciality tea.
“How did you know I liked tea?” I ask Joseph as he wriggles with delight.
I shake his little hand and then tousle his hair, before he and his mother vacate the suite so I can get back to work. As they depart, his mother turns to me and says, “You will make a fabulous mother someday.”
I am almost speechless, but I find the words in time. Blinking back tears, I tell her, “Thank you, I learned from the very best.”
Bolstered by the happy interaction, I am reminded that I am doing good work at The Hamilton, and even I could see myself being awarded the holiday bonus on days such as this.
Checking my watch, I note the lunch hour is coming fast on my heels. I quickly restock my cart with fresh linens, determined to finish Mr. Barnes’ suite before leaving for lunch.
I feel the heavens smile upon me when I reach his suite to discover it vacant. I set to work as usual, resolved to be out of the room before his return. Though Louisa’s words are a comfort, I am no less certain of the man’s intentions, and I still do not look forward to being in his proximity.
Perhaps the kind thing would be for me to give him another chance and allow him to be remorseful for his actions while not losing face. He does strike me as a proud though foolish man. I am undecided about the matter as I move the vacuum carefully around the bedroom furniture. With the droning of the machine, I don’t notice when the clasp on Mama’s watch gives way. I am lost in the process of making tidy passes over the carpet when I catch sight of a silver shimmer, about to be swallowed by the vacuum.
I slam my hand against the off switch and pull the behemoth of a machine back with every ounce of strength my arms can muster. Though the latch is clearly broken, the watch is, thankfully, safely resting on the thick carpet. Examining the clasp, I decide better of putting the watch back on my wrist. Instead, I tuck it into my apron pocket and finish cleaning the bedroom.
Moving my cart to the living area, I vacuum first and then begin to tidy and dust. I fold newspapers back together, remove dirty coffee cups and a stale-smelling, half-drunk pot of coffee, careful not to spill its contents as I place it on the second shelf of my cart. I wipe down the writing desk, lifting a few papers out of the way as I go.
My gaze washes over the items on the desk, but rarely do I pay them any attention, aside from ensuring nothing is damaged by moisture. The personal papers and belongings of guests are not present for my entertainment, and minding my guests’ privacy is one thing I remain firm on.
The Christmas floral arrangement on the desk is looking a tad sad. I move it to my cart and begin plucking wilted flowers and leaves from the bundle. I fill the vase with fresh water, stirring in a teaspoon of sugar from the coffee service. Repositioning the flowers, pine, and holly, I play with the display until it appears almost brand new.
While returning the vase to the top left corner of the desk, I spot an envelope with Miss Clara Wilson written in script across the expensive-looking stationary. I don’t immediately reach for the envelope. Instead, I survey the rest of the items on the desk with more scrutiny. The envelope is definitely out of place. Why would Mr. Barnes leave something for me?
I wonder if this is a Christmas gift, like Joseph gave me, or perhaps an apology. My hand reaches for the envelope and then retreats. What if it is a trick?
Several minutes pass as I turn my attention to the final tasks in the room, trying to distract myself from the envelope. My eyes continue to be drawn toward the desk, and for the better part of fifteen minutes, I pull them away each time.
With the room situated, I find myself standing close to the desk. Curiosity winning out, I lean forward and stand on tiptoe to retrieve the envelope. A muffled thud draws my attention as my fingers stretch forward. I pause and bend to scan the floor around me. Seeing nothing, I stand once more and grasp the envelope in my fingers.
Without pausing, I flip it over to find it unsealed. I press my lips together in contemplation before gently tugging the stiff card stock from the envelope and turning it over to read.
Dear Miss Wilson,
Please accept my deepest apologies over our previous misunderstanding. I would like to make it up to you by inviting you to the New Year’s Eve gala being hosted at The Hotel Vancouver. I promise to be a delightful host and only wish for you to enjoy a splendid evening to celebrate the New Year.
Sincerely,
Mr. Harold Barnes
I inhale sharply and then take several slow, steady breaths in an effort to settle myself. In two days, I’ve received two invitations to the same ball. I would laugh at the unlikely scenario if I didn’t feel the dread of an impending disaster sneaking up my spine.
With Louisa’s news that all is well with Mr. Barnes, I was beginning to explore what it might be like to attend the ball with William. It isn’t a matter of whether I want to go, but whether I should.
Somehow, Mr. Barnes has managed to once again insert himself into my life and make an already difficult decision more precarious. I pace the room once, twice, three times. Stopping at the desk for the third time, I slide the note back into the envelope. I then lean it against the freshly arranged vase so he is sure to know I’ve seen it.
With defiance as my guide, I turn my back on his note and push my cart out of suite 815.