Chapter Thirty-Two
CHAPTER
THIRTY - TWO
That weekend, Violet went home to see her father and Jenny. She had invited Felicity to come with her, but she had been asked to paint the scenery for another play. It was at a larger theatre this time and so everything needed to be bigger. Felicity had seemed excited about it as she waved Violet off, but also nervous. ‘I have to do two backdrops. One is a drawing room, the other a grand country garden. I won’t have to do them on my own, just design them and mark them out. I’ve done gardens before, at home.’ But she sounded worried.
‘You’ll be just as good at drawing rooms, I’m sure,’ said Violet. ‘You’re very talented.’
Violet was anxious about her visit home to the extent that instead of letting herself in by the back door, she banged on the front. The dogs all started barking in welcome.
Her father opened the door and took her into his arms and hugged her, just as he always had. Jenny, who was hovering next to him, demanded a hug too, and the dogs all joined in. Suddenly, Violet stopped worrying.
‘So, how are the lovebirds?’ she said.
‘Oh, don’t!’ said Jenny. ‘I’m embarrassed enough already without you calling us that. Although you don’t seem very concerned about us being lovebirds!’
‘Why should she be, darling?’ said Aubrey. ‘She’s known you most of her life. Come and have a drink, Vi. You probably need one.’
‘Aubrey, it could easily be very odd for Violet seeing us as a couple. Her best friend and her father? It’s weird.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Violet. ‘I admit that I was worried about it, but actually, you seem like a very good couple. Oh, Daddy! That is a huge drink!’
‘It’s my best malt: I hope you like it.’
‘I’m just wondering if you’re trying to knock me out!’
Soon, Violet was on the sofa with her feet curled under her, surrounded by spaniels, sipping some delicious malt whisky.
‘So, what news from the Great Wen?’ said Aubrey.
‘It’s known as Swinging London now! Jenny, how do you put up with living with a dinosaur?’
Jenny laughed. ‘I’m a bit of a dinosaur myself. Now, are you starving? It’s all ready. We’re eating in the kitchen, if that’s OK.’
‘Of course it’s OK!’ Violet snuggled further into the cushions. ‘But you might need a crane to lift me out of here.’
‘I’ll go and open the wine,’ said Aubrey.
Later, Violet helped Jenny in the kitchen.
‘Is everything all right, Vi?’ Jenny asked. ‘I realise you’re not worried about me and Aubrey being together, which is a huge relief, but I can tell there’s something not quite right with you.’
Violet put down the soggy tea towel she had been holding. ‘I’ve had to leave my job. And I don’t want Henry to be able to get in touch with me.’
‘Oh, love! Shall I make hot chocolate?’
Violet nodded. She suddenly felt tearful and she knew she’d feel better if she told Jenny everything.
‘So can you tell Daddy all this for me?’ said Violet.
‘I’ll do my best but I think I’ll say you’ve moved temporarily and that you haven’t told me the number yet. I don’t like lying to Aubrey, but you were my friend first!’
They laughed about this and then Violet said, ‘It may not come up anyway. Henry may have no desire to get in touch with me. Why would he? He’s on a lecture tour with the beautiful Dr Saunders.’
‘Is she beautiful?’ asked Jenny.
Violet sighed. ‘She’s certainly very attractive.’
But in spite of this rather gloomy end to the conversation, she got back on the train to London feeling moderately content.
Although in theory she could leave the moment something displeased her, Violet was nervous as she walked to her new job. The civilised time of ten minutes to ten had given her too much space to think. She wondered briefly if factory work – surely she was qualified to do that! – would suit her better. Noisy machinery, long hours, no time to think about Henry. But she only considered this for a second; she would think about Henry however noisy it was.
She went up in the wood-panelled, creaky lift, hardly big enough for two people, found the right door and knocked. Instead of Magda, the door was opened by a man in his forties.
‘Are you Miss Stone? I’m Owen Longley, Miss Wynter’s nephew.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘Do come in. I felt obliged to have a look at you before you start work. My aunt is quite pleased about you coming and as that’s very unusual for her, I thought I should make sure you’re not selling snake oil or some such. Magda? Could we have’ – he raised an eyebrow at Violet –‘coffee?’
Violet nodded. ‘Yes please.’
‘Coffee, if you don’t mind, and some of that excellent cake you make so well.’
As she followed him to the drawing room, Violet realised she liked the way he spoke to Magda. He was in charge but also courteous.
‘I hope you don’t mind me asking,’ he said when he’d got her seated and comfortable, ‘but why did you take this job? It’s not the most promising-sounding position, is it?’
Violet decided that she should be completely frank with Miss Wynter’s nephew. ‘To be honest, I didn’t seem to have any choice in the matter. As the employment agency pointed out, I don’t do shorthand and typing. And I’m too old for shop work.’
‘Are you sure? I’ve been shopping with my aunt and have come across some …’ He paused, ‘… quite elderly ladies in charge.’
Violet laughed. ‘I’m probably not too old to work in that sort of shop but I should have started when I was fifteen, and could learn the trade properly. I’m too old to work in a boutique in the King’s Road.’
‘The boutique’s loss is our gain. Aunt Henny is so thrilled that you’re a lady. She’s an awful snob because—’
‘It’s all right. She explained. And I like dogs, which seemed to be qualification enough.’
The coffee arrived and, shortly afterwards, so did Miss Wynter. ‘I see my nephew is checking your references. Do you have references?’
‘No,’ said Violet. ‘As I never intended to work for you, I didn’t think to procure any.’ She considered. ‘Maybe someone else should have the job?’
Miss Wynter said, ‘No, no. I trust my own instincts before some document written by someone whose motives I don’t know.’
‘What do you think, Mr Longley? Would you rather I had references?’
‘Call me Owen, please. But no, if my aunt is happy with you, my opinion is of no value whatsoever.’
There was a pause before Miss Wynter said, ‘Well, I think you should be going, Owen, so Violet can get on with her work.’
Owen instantly rose. ‘Of course! But I hope you don’t mind if I pop in occasionally, to make sure you’re all right. My aunt can be a bit of a tyrant.’
‘I take that as a compliment,’ said Miss Wynter.
‘I assure you it was meant as one.’
When Owen had finally taken his leave, Miss Wynter regarded Violet as if she was something she had just bought, and while she was pleased with her purchase, she wasn’t yet quite sure what she was going to do with it.
Violet finished her coffee and cake while she was being considered, wondering how long she would stay in this appointment.
‘Tell me, how did you fill your days in your last job?’
‘Sorting papers, mostly. I’m good at that. I used to do a lot for my father before I left home. He’s an academic.’
‘Oh? Now this is interesting. And is the man you’re trying to escape also an academic?’
Violet pursed her lips in irritation but decided there was no point in arguing with Miss Wynter. ‘Yes.’
She nodded. ‘As was I. Of course it was hard for women in those days. They eventually let us study but they wouldn’t award degrees. Eighty years it took Cambridge to award them after they first let women in. Luckily, I went to Oxford, which wasn’t quite so antiquated.’
‘Can I ask what you did in the war?’ asked Violet, changing the subject. Something about the older woman’s demeanour pricked her interest.
‘You can ask, but I certainly won’t tell you!’ Miss Wynter was obviously amused by the thought she might answer this question. ‘Well,’ she went on, ‘are you familiar with public libraries? You could change my books for me?’
‘Of course.’
‘And can you clean silver?’
‘Yes.’
‘Excellent. I’ll want you to take Sigmund out later, too. But you get on with the silver for now. I’ll find some papers for you to put in order eventually.’ She paused. ‘Of course, Magda can clean silver but I prefer her to dust and sweep the carpets. If I ask her to do it she spends all day because she wants to see her reflection in the meat covers.’
Violet cleaned the silver in the dining room, the big mahogany table spread with newspapers. Miss Wynter sat in the window reading The Times , occasionally commenting on the day’s events. Then there came a moment when she said, ‘Now, if you would be so kind as to fetch me a pencil from the drawer in the drawing room, it’s time to do the crossword.’
It didn’t take Violet long to find a pencil. There was a little tray of them in the drawer and she came back quickly with a selection. There was also a pencil sharpener, so she brought that too, just in case.
‘What took you so long? I’ve practically finished it, and I will have forgotten the answers before I’ve had time to write them down.’
Violet nearly asked if Miss Wynter had been involved in codebreaking during the war but decided it would only irritate the old lady, although she felt she now had a strong clue!
Later in the afternoon, Violet very much enjoyed taking Sigmund for a walk. He trotted along merrily at her heels, enjoying the smells and presumably gossip left behind by other dogs. When they got home, he was panting. Violet wondered if she’d been away too long and was prepared to be told off. But not at all.
‘Thank you for giving him a good stretch. He may have short legs but he needs exercise like every other dog. Where did you go?’
‘Along the river. A friend of mine has – had – a friend who is a mudlarker. While I haven’t been myself, looking over the Embankment wall did make it seem tempting. The tide was out. No one was there, but I could see the appeal.’
Later, when she was home, she rang her father to tell him how her new job had gone. She was pleased with herself that she could say how much she’d enjoyed it.
‘But I thought the old woman was supposed to be a termagant?’ he said.
‘She has that potential, but I think she knows that if she’s horrid to me, I’ll walk out and she might have to resort to someone with a common accent.’
He laughed, and the conversation moved on. Violet could hear Jenny clattering pans in the background and soon her father said, ‘I’d better go. Jenny’s cooked something wonderful again.’
She put the phone down, delighted to know that Jenny and her father were so happy.