Chapter Thirty
CHAPTER
THIRTY
Violet left the bookshop wondering if she’d ever go back. Her feelings about this were very mixed. It had been so strange working there in the beginning, with no one knowing what she should be doing. But she had found her way and ended up enjoying it. If it weren’t for Henry, she could have gone on working there until Athene wanted her flat back.
As staying on at the shop wasn’t an option because she’d still be connected to Henry, Violet knew she had to make another plan. She also needed to walk off her agitation. For once she turned away from the river and headed towards the King’s Road.
What should she do? She could always go back to Stoneyhayes, live in the apartment where Kiki had been and so leaving the main house for her father and Jenny. It would be all right. She’d be comfortable, she could garden, do all the things locally that she had done before. She’d support the local WI, go back on the rota for doing church flowers, maybe help with Meals on Wheels. Generally she could do all the things the daughter of the lord of the manor was expected to do, even these days.
But the thought of returning to that life, although it was perfectly pleasant, made her shudder. When her godmother Athene had made it so easy for her to leave home it wasn’t so she could just go back the moment things got difficult. No, she was made of sterner stuff! She would find a job on her own, without anyone’s help!
She’d been walking for about five minutes when she realised that right in front of her was an employment agency. It was a sign, Violet decided. Why walk any further? She’d get herself another job that very day. Without allowing herself time to read all the cards in the window which demanded high shorthand and typing speeds, she went in.
It wasn’t long before she had been ushered to a back office and was sitting in front of a beautifully made-up young woman who, Violet was fairly sure, could have been described as a ‘dolly bird’. In spite of her exaggerated make-up, which included painted-on eyelashes and freckles, this girl clearly knew what she was doing. She examined Violet for a worrying few moments before speaking.
‘Hello, I’m Christine. Did you fill out a form?’ she asked, as if she’d already asked this question many times that day and wanted to get on with it.
Violet shook her head. ‘Sorry, no. I wasn’t given a form.’
‘Never mind. We can manage without. Can I ask what your shorthand and typing speeds are?’
‘I’m afraid—’
Christine correctly interpreted this as meaning Violet didn’t have shorthand and typing speeds. ‘Oh, shame. I need someone who can go straight away to a firm of management consultants. What can you do?’
‘Um …’
‘Do you have a job at the moment?’
‘Yes.’ At least a question she could answer without apologising first.
‘Is it office work?’
‘In a way …’
‘Can you cook?’
‘A bit. Family cooking,’ said Violet. ‘I used to cook for my father.’
‘You’re too old for shop work – sorry, but it’s true.’
‘I don’t want to do shop work,’ said Violet trying not to sound petulant.
Christine shook her head. ‘Well, I hope you’re not too fussy. There aren’t so many choices for people who can’t do shorthand.’
‘Well, I’m going to go on a course.’ The thought hadn’t occurred to Violet before this moment.
‘Good idea. You could come back when you’ve done it. But if you want a job now, we have to work with what we’ve got. Do you want a permanent job? Or do you want to be a temp?’
Violet didn’t need to think about this for long. ‘Temp,’ she said. As her employment opportunities seemed slim, it would probably be better not to commit herself to something she might end up hating.
‘Do you like dogs?’
Violet was surprised. ‘Yes, but what’s that—’
‘Good with the elderly?’
‘I suppose …’
‘Are you tolerant and easy-going?’
‘Definitely.’
‘We have a job which we can’t fill. But it’s only for three months. It involves looking after an old lady and her dog. She’s … difficult. Treats everyone as if they were servants. Snooty as hell. She’ll love you because you’re a lady.’
Violet supposed the young woman made this assumption based on her voice. ‘But she’ll still treat me like a servant?’
Christine smiled. ‘I’m afraid so. But the hours are short and the pay is good because her nephew, who’s in charge of her, knows she’s difficult.’
Violet made a spur-of-the-moment decision. She could put up with anything for three months, surely. And then she might know what she wanted to do with her life. ‘I’ll give it a go!’
‘You could use your spare time to learn shorthand,’ suggested Christine. ‘Speedwriting is the quickest to pick up. And typing. Then if you have to give it up because you find the old lady impossible, you’ll be in a stronger position than the one you’re in now.’ She paused. ‘Can I ask why you want to leave your current position? Considering you’re not really qualified to do anything?’
Violet took a breath.
‘Ah,’ said Christine. ‘No need to explain. The boss put his hand on your bottom or worse, and you know perfectly well if you say anything, you’ll get the blame, not him. It’s outrageous. We see it all the time.’
A tiny part of Violet wanted to stick up for Henry. He hadn’t put his hand on her bottom. But he had broken her heart which at that moment felt worse.
As Violet left the employment agency a little later, clutching a card, she was grateful that she had an option: she could stay at the bookshop if she really took against the old woman. She might not be qualified to do anything, but she hadn’t been groped by her boss.
She had been given an appointment to meet her potential new boss at seven o’clock that evening. Apparently, the old lady went to bed shortly after eight, so this was a convenient time for her.
While Violet had the address, she didn’t know where it was. Christine had assured her it was within easy walking distance of the agency, and so also Violet’s flat. But people’s ideas about what ‘easy walking distance’ was varied. Violet could walk for miles if she had comfortable shoes, but apparently smart dressing was essential for this interview, and she wasn’t sure how far she could walk in her kitten heels.
She bumped into Felicity just before she reached the house.
‘Oh, hello!’ said Felicity eagerly. ‘I haven’t seen you for a while. How are you?’
‘Perfectly well, thank you, but I wonder if perhaps you could help me?’ Felicity seemed a bit agitated; maybe sorting out Violet’s clothes for her interview would be fun for her.
‘I’d be delighted to help you,’ said Felicity. ‘I am slowly going mad with boredom but if I tell my mother I’m bored she’ll say it means I should study harder. What help do you need?’
‘Firstly, I need to borrow your A–Z,’ said Violet. ‘I left mine at the bookshop. And possibly borrow something to wear also.’
‘It sounds exciting! I’ll come up, shall I?’
‘I need to find out where this place is,’ said Violet, having made them both tea. ‘I’m being interviewed for a new job.’
‘But I thought you liked your job since you met your boss at Christmas?’ Felicity took a handful of the cheesy biscuits that came out at any time.
‘I don’t like it quite so much now. And Henry, my boss, is going off on a lecture tour of America with this Dr Saunders – a woman – who is a colleague of his who he’s often worked with. She was booked to do the tour with someone else but they had to pull out. So she’s arranged for Henry to do it instead. Apparently it’s well paid and Dr Saunders is thrilled about it.’ Violet pursed her lips. ‘I need a change,’ she said briskly.
Felicity patted her arm sympathetically. ‘I understand why you can’t stay there. Imagine Henry breezing in with this Dr Saunders as if you and he hadn’t spent a cosy Christmas together!’ She paused. ‘So what sort of job are you looking for?’
‘Seemingly, because I can’t do shorthand and typing and am too old to work in a shop, I don’t have a huge choice. But I have got an interview for a job no one else wants, caring for an old lady and her dog. It’ll only be temporary, so if it’s too awful, I can leave.’
‘You could do that anyway.’
Violet shrugged. ‘I suppose I could, but I’d feel dreadfully guilty about doing that. I’m running out on one job – I wouldn’t want to run out on another. Now, where does this irritable old lady live?’
They soon established that it was just off Sloane Avenue, so very near. Felicity quickly copied out the relevant section of the A–Z.
‘You’re so good at drawing,’ said Violet.
‘I know. Now what are you going to wear?’
It didn’t take them long to go through Violet’s wardrobe, which wasn’t extensive.
‘All my skirts are too short!’ Violet declared. ‘She won’t like that.’
‘I’ve got lots of skirts,’ said Felicity. ‘I can lend you something. You’re shorter than me so the skirts will be longer.’
‘But will I get them over my hips?’ Felicity was rather gazelle-like, Violet thought, suddenly feeling dumpy.
‘Of course you will! I’ll fetch a selection. My grandmother didn’t approve of short skirts when she took me shopping in Paris. There’ll be something that fits beautifully.’
Violet sat at the table, applying some discreet make-up. The thought of not being surrounded by memories of Henry all day was positive. Otherwise, the prospect of working for a snobbish old lady was not cheering.
Felicity enjoyed looking through the clothes and soon Violet picked up her enthusiasm, eventually finding that getting suitably dressed for the interview was quite fun. If turned over a couple of times at the waist, Felicity’s elegant Parisian skirts landed just on her knee. They found a stylish jacket in one of Athene’s cupboards which Felicity recognised as Chanel.
‘I could just wear my own jacket, which is perfectly fine,’ said Violet, admiring herself in the mirror.
‘More fun to dress up. And if this snooty old lady thinks you’re too stylish, you won’t get the job and you’ll have to stay at your shop. Which is what I think you should do, by the way. But it’s none of my business.’
Violet laughed. Felicity had suddenly had a strong look of her mama when she said this, but Violet didn’t comment. Lucinda was a beautiful woman, but Violet knew Felicity wouldn’t like the comparison.
Miss Wynter lived in a block of mansion flats a short walk from Cheyne Walk. There was a creaky old lift that wobbled as it went up and the metal gate was stiff and had pinched Violet’s fingers as she dragged it closed. Violet didn’t want to work here, she decided, even before she tapped on the door.
It was opened by a young woman in a uniform who had a slight accent similar to Anna’s. She seemed weary.
‘Send her through!’ came an imperious voice.
Violet resolved not to accept the job.
She stepped into the living room, and spotted Miss Wynter sitting upright in an armchair. ‘Stand there,’ she said. ‘Where I can see you.’
Violet obediently stood, wondering how soon she could take her leave.
‘Now speak!’
Violet took a breath. She was horribly tempted to recite a times-table or something, just to be annoying, but didn’t. ‘My name is Violet Stone. My current address is in Cheyne Walk.’
The old lady nodded. ‘You have a pleasant speaking voice. I have a very short time left to live and I prefer to spend that time surrounded by pleasant voices. Call me a snob if you like!’
Violet shrugged. Then she became aware of something pressing on her leg. She looked down to see a small, very ancient dachshund. She crouched down. ‘Hello! Who are you?’ She gave the dog her hand to sniff and then found its chest and scratched.
‘That’s Sigmund,’ said the old lady. ‘My name is Henrietta Wynter. You may call me Miss Wynter.’
Violet regarded her. ‘I don’t think I’m suitable for the position, Miss Wynter. I won’t waste any more of your time.’
‘Don’t be hasty – Violet, did you say your name was? Sit down.’ She rang a little bell. Shortly afterwards the maid came in. ‘Magda! Pour us some sherry, if you please.’
Violet considered refusing the sherry and taking her leave – she was never going to be able to tolerate this woman’s imperious ways. But Miss Wynter was probably lonely and Violet felt she could spare her half an hour to make conversation.
The two of them sipped in silence for a few seconds. Then Miss Wynter spoke.
‘I like the way you treat Sigmund. You knew not to stroke his head, which he hates.’
Violet nodded. ‘My dogs at home prefer it if you rub their chests.’
‘Tell me about your home. I take it you weren’t born in Cheyne Walk.’
‘No, and I’m happy to tell you but before I do, I must make it clear that I have no intention of taking the job.’
‘You’ve said that already. I have chosen to ignore it. Tell me about your home life.’
Violet took a deep breath. ‘I lived – until recently – in a rambling old house in the country, with my father. My mother died when I was a child.’
‘Why did you decide to come to London? Were you unhappy with your father?’
Violet shook her head. ‘Not at all, but our circumstances had changed and my godmother thought it was a good idea for me to try London life for a while.’
‘Did your father have to sell the place? Couldn’t pay the bills?’
It gave Violet childish satisfaction to deny this. ‘Far from it. My father came into a fortune and a title.’
‘A title?’ Miss Wynter’s interest was piqued.
‘When his cousin died, he became Lord Marchfont.’
Miss Wynter nodded. ‘I think I remember reading about it now. It was quite a distant relation and your father wasn’t expected to inherit. So why did this inspire your godmother to prise you out of the family home?’
‘It was the widows, Miss Wynter. You’d be surprised how many of them appear bearing casseroles when a nice man suddenly becomes rich and titled.’
‘On the contrary, I wouldn’t be at all surprised. Is your father financing your house in Cheyne Walk?’
Miss Wynter was really very nosy. But Violet couldn’t be bothered to be anything but frank. She’d never see her again after today, anyway. ‘It’s a flat. And it belongs to my godmother who is currently in America. She lent me the flat and found me a job. I want to leave the job which is why I applied for this one. But I—’
‘Don’t want it. You’ve said. Do you like your new London life?’
Violet considered. ‘I think my heart will always be in the country but I’m enjoying the change. And the challenge.’
‘And why do you want to leave the job you have? It must be a good reason for you to consider leaving it to look after a snobbish old woman and her very smelly dog.’
‘My reasons are personal.’
‘Oh, it’s a man then! It so often is. I’ve managed to avoid marriage all my life and I consider it one of my greater achievements. Unlike many women of my generation the love of my life wasn’t killed in the Great War. He never existed.’
Something about the way she stated this gave Violet the idea that possibly there had been some achievements that the world might consider great. She wondered what they might have been: something to do with the more recent war, she assumed.
‘Well, that gives me something to aim for,’ said Violet, trying not to feel bitter.
‘It’s not for everyone but it suited me. Still suits me, in fact. Sadly I now need assistance for things. Did the agency mention a salary? I’ll double it. A huge extravagance but, as they say, you can’t take it with you.’
‘Miss Wynter! I’m not going to take the job!’
‘Nonsense. Presumably you have to work out your notice at your present position? I’ll give you a week then I expect you to be with me promptly at ten every morning. You’ll work until four. Magda puts me to bed and takes Sigmund out so he can relieve himself last thing.’
Violet regarded her employer. ‘Miss Wynter, why can’t you take no for an answer?’
She laughed, a sound like a rusty gate, not much used. ‘Because I’m very stubborn and I like my own way. I also like you and I think, given time, you’ll come to like me. You already like Sigmund. You’ve let him get up on your lap.’
Violet looked down, surprised. Somehow the little dog had made himself comfortable on her without her really noticing. She was caressing his ears automatically. ‘I miss having a dog on my lap …’
‘There we are then. Something in common. We could have a trial period.’
‘Well, I suppose it is only a temporary position anyway.’
‘So it is. Now pour us both another glass of sherry and then you can leave.’
Felicity was waiting for Violet when she got back. ‘How did it go?’ she asked. ‘Come into the house. My mother’s out.’
‘I’m not sure how it went,’ said Violet, having refused a drink. ‘I said several times I wasn’t taking the job, but she just ignored me.’
‘But you don’t have to go. You could just not turn up,’ said Felicity.
‘That would be rude. Besides, she has a very charming dog.’
Felicity laughed. ‘I miss dogs! You obviously do too. Oliver’s father has dogs, but they live in kennels.’
Now the subject had been brought up, Violet felt she could ask more questions. ‘I’ll give you your skirt back in a minute,’ she said. ‘But tell me about you and Oliver? Have you heard anything?’
‘Did I tell you he visited me?’
Violet shook her head.
‘He said he’d gone to stay with an old friend who’s a jeweller, but knows a lot about history. Apparently he’s ill and Oliver felt he had to see him. When he first went mudlarking, Oliver used to take all his finds to him, to find out more about them. Oliver’s learnt a lot since.’
Violet recognised the need to talk about one’s beloved. ‘When will you see him again?’
‘He said he wasn’t sure when. It might be this weekend or it might be weeks. I wonder if he’s remembered I’ll be gone before the summer.’
‘Oh, love! It’s still only January – don’t talk about summer. You need something to do as well as your course. Will there be more scenery for you to paint, do you think?’
Felicity shrugged. ‘I expect so. That would be fun, I suppose. Only being with Oliver’s friends is a mixed blessing. I love being around them because they’re fun and kind and know Oliver, but I’m always terrified in case they talk about his past girlfriends, how many there’ve been and how heartless he is about them.’
‘Have they said that?’ Violet was shocked.
‘No! Well, not in so many words, but I know he has had a lot of girlfriends. My mother said men can’t be blamed for giving in to temptation.’
Violet shrugged. ‘I don’t know why I was surprised when Henry turned out to have a girlfriend. I just never asked! And actually, I felt I couldn’t ask, but I assumed, since he was so … nice to me, that he was single. What a mistake!’
‘We both seem to have fallen for men who other women fall for too,’ said Felicity ruefully.
‘I thought I had more discerning taste,’ said Violet. ‘Anyway, not any more. He’s being banned from my brain, right now.’
Felicity laughed. ‘Do you think that will work? Banning him from your brain?’
Violet made a face. ‘Probably not. But at least I have the intention. That’s a good thing.’
‘Would you like to stay for dinner?’ Felicity asked. ‘There’s bound to be enough food, and Mummy and I run out of things to say to each other really quite quickly.’
‘I’d love to. But you have to make sure Lucinda is happy with the arrangement.’ She paused. ‘I notice that she’s “Mummy” now.’
Felicity sighed. ‘I know! But I’m trying to stay on the right side of her. Calling her Mummy helps.’