A Brighter Tomorrow by Maggie Ford (read with me .txt) 📕

dining room as Florrie came out with a tray of empty dishes. Her face was flushed.

‘What’s going on?’ Ellie had hissed as they passed.

Florrie had paused, eager to relay what she’d overheard and see the other girl’s face when she told her. ‘The mistress is upset. She caught you hanging out of the upstairs landing window talking – yelling, she said – to Miss Jay, and she wants you dismissed immediately for rudeness and talking back. I think she really means to see you gone this time.’

Her expression was smug, but Ellie had ignored it. ‘I don’t think she’ll get her way on that one.’

She would have said more, but caution had stopped her. The less everyone knew about her and the master and her now having a tutor, the better. They could tittle-tattle for all they were worth, so long as that was all it was.

She’d lifted her head and gone on past, but Florrie couldn’t know how rapidly her heart was beating despite telling herself she was being foolish. She was sure Doctor Lowe would support her against his wife with her petty, irrational dislikes. Surely, after all he’d been doing for her – taking such an interest in her, engaging someone to teach her to talk properly and improve her artistic talents – he wouldn’t see her go now, not even for his wife.

For the rest of the week she watched for him, but he seemed to be evading her. Once she glimpsed him opening the door connecting his surgery to the house, but he hastily closed it behind him as if he had already caught sight of her and wished to escape an awkward situation, leaving her to come to the conclusion that he was indeed trying to avoid her.

At least he hadn’t called her to his study to convey the dread words of needing to dispense with her services. It could still come. Perhaps he was trying to compose himself for the awful moment.

By Sunday she still hadn’t been sent for, which was encouraging, and she perked up a little. There had been more high words issuing faintly through the heavy dining-room door. No one had conveyed to her what had been said. Florrie said she’d been made to leave the room before anything reached her ears.

Since the window episode Florrie had been the only one told to wait at table. That in itself seemed ominous, but as the argument appeared to be an ongoing one, she’d taken heart a little more and fought off the fear that Mrs Lowe might even now persuade her husband that she was a bad influence on the staff. The longer it went on, the more likely it was that she would be allowed to stay here.

Hurrying off to visit her old neighbour, half of her glad to be out of the house today, the other half wondering if she would indeed come back to find herself dismissed, she turned her thoughts to Ronnie Sharp instead, hoping to find him there. Seeing him would take her mind off other things.

She returned home elated. Ronnie Sharp had asked her to go with him up west on her next day off to see George Robey, billed at the Pavilion as the Prime Minister of Mirth. ‘I’ll buy tickets for both of us – I can afford it,’ he’d said, showing off with his decent wages from working at the press.

She’d had to decline, explaining that the younger domestic staff had to be back at their place of work by nine, but his offer made her feel good and he’d suggested that next time she came, if it was a Sunday, they’d go to Hyde Park, perhaps have a rowing boat out on the Serpentine. That, too, was questionable – her next day off might not be Sunday, and he worked all week.

Little wonder housemaids seldom picked up with a steady boyfriend except for one working in the same establishment or the local delivery boy, neither ever much of a catch; and if the couple did finally decide to marry, there was never much prospect of money.

It wasn’t fair, being unable to go out when she pleased, for all Doctor Lowe was regarding her as more than just an employee – which was a good thing, she supposed, but she no longer felt comfortable in his presence, knowing how he’d seen and touched parts of her no one else would be allowed to, even though he’d done it as a doctor. She still cringed from the memory.

But she intended to marry well one day. Her goal was to work towards becoming something in this world and one day stand over her father, a proud lady of substance, and see him grovel before her. That was still a long way off, and might not happen, but Doctor Lowe was at least a stepping stone.

Meanwhile she felt excited as she made her way home. Ronnie was nice, well mannered for the family he came from, and quite handsome. Yes, she could take to Ronnie. He had a good job and hopeful prospects. But that too was a long way off. Early days yet.

She let herself in by the back door, glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall to find she was a few minutes ahead of her time to be back. Ignoring Mrs Jenkins’s quizzical expression at her glowing face, she hurried by her before she could ask what a time she’d had and went up to her room.

There, however, she came back down to earth. Ronnie would never countenance waiting for her once-a-month day off to coincide with his. He would get tired and find someone else. Perhaps even now he had someone else in tow, someone freer than her. It was no good dreaming. Nor would she ever rise to become wealthy. Who’d want her, a mere parlourmaid, except someone in the same circumstances as her?

She began to feel suddenly depressed. Automatically her mind went to her father and with that