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Authors: Katie Flynn
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better just check.’ She went to pass Hester but was grabbed and turned to face her clothing. Hester said nothing, but gave her a little shake and pointed. Lonnie sighed. ‘You asked where Kitty was so I was going to find out for sure,’ she said plaintively. ‘Whilst I do that, you might as well pick up my coat and things.’
This time the shake was harder and accompanied by a push in the back. Lonnie compressed her lips. Six weeks ago she would have pouted, run out of the room or demanded that a maid be sent up to do the task but time was already changing her attitude.Despite her forays into the outside world, she had made no friends amongst the children who played in the parks. Some of them had made overtures but always seemed to draw back, and though Lonnie told herself it did not matter she was often lonely, so was careful not to antagonize Hester too much. Hester had made it clear, however, that if she herself were to remain at the house in Shaw Street, Lonnie must begin to do more. Looking back now, as she bent to pick up the clothing, Lonnie remembered how she had fought against doing such menial tasks at first. The first time she had had to empty Kitty’s litter tray, for instance, she had stalked indignantly down the stairs and out into the garden, the reeking seed box and its nauseous contents held out in front of her whilst she muttered imprecations against Hester and every other member of the household. She had meant to tip the seed box out on to the lawn, hoping that one of the maids would step straight into the mess and carry it back into the kitchen to disgust the other servants. Mimms, who had been weeding a nearby flowerbed, had scotched this nasty intention by calling her over and telling her that there was a compost heap at the end of the garden, behind the shed.
‘And don’t think I couldn’t tell from the way you was behavin’ what you intended to do with that stuff,’ he said severely. ‘If you want to keep that kitten, you’ll dispose of its messes where I say, for I won’t have my flowerbeds or my lawn mucked up by cat dirt.’
Lonnie had looked at his rosy, countryman’s face and stern eyes and had said pertly: ‘How dare you speak to me like that! You are only a servant and an outdoor one at that. In future, I shall empty the littertray as soon as I am outside the house. And don’t you dare threaten my cat, you wicked old man.’
What had happened next had shocked Lonnie to the core of her being, for Mimms had made as if to turn away, knocking the litter tray as he did so. The contents had cascaded down Lonnie’s front, staining her pink gingham dress, her white stockings and her brown leather sandals. Naturally, she had begun to shout, to accuse Mimms of deliberately attacking her, but the old man had just laughed.
‘I reckon you got what was comin’ to you,’ he said. ‘It were an accident, but unless you want a few more similar accidents, young woman, you’ll not speak to me like that again. Why, I’m fifty years older than you – didn’t no one ever tell you to show respect for your elders? D’you want everyone to think you’re a nasty, spiteful kid? Most of the servants think it already, an’ I don’t blame ’em. I disagreed, I thought you were just spoilt, but now I’m not so sure. Mebbe they’m right and you’re as black as you’re painted. What d’you say to that, eh?’
Lonnie had looked down at her ruined dress and then up into the old man’s face. Thoughts raced through her head. People, it seemed to her, did not like Leonora Victoria Hetherington-Smith very much, but this old man had not yet made up his mind. If she apologised … but why should she? He was only a servant after all.
She opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of him and with some astonishment heard her own voice saying penitently, ‘I’m very sorry, Mr Mimms. Miss Elliott is always telling me that things are different here, but sometimes I forget. I’ll take the box to
This time the shake was harder and accompanied by a push in the back. Lonnie compressed her lips. Six weeks ago she would have pouted, run out of the room or demanded that a maid be sent up to do the task but time was already changing her attitude.Despite her forays into the outside world, she had made no friends amongst the children who played in the parks. Some of them had made overtures but always seemed to draw back, and though Lonnie told herself it did not matter she was often lonely, so was careful not to antagonize Hester too much. Hester had made it clear, however, that if she herself were to remain at the house in Shaw Street, Lonnie must begin to do more. Looking back now, as she bent to pick up the clothing, Lonnie remembered how she had fought against doing such menial tasks at first. The first time she had had to empty Kitty’s litter tray, for instance, she had stalked indignantly down the stairs and out into the garden, the reeking seed box and its nauseous contents held out in front of her whilst she muttered imprecations against Hester and every other member of the household. She had meant to tip the seed box out on to the lawn, hoping that one of the maids would step straight into the mess and carry it back into the kitchen to disgust the other servants. Mimms, who had been weeding a nearby flowerbed, had scotched this nasty intention by calling her over and telling her that there was a compost heap at the end of the garden, behind the shed.
‘And don’t think I couldn’t tell from the way you was behavin’ what you intended to do with that stuff,’ he said severely. ‘If you want to keep that kitten, you’ll dispose of its messes where I say, for I won’t have my flowerbeds or my lawn mucked up by cat dirt.’
Lonnie had looked at his rosy, countryman’s face and stern eyes and had said pertly: ‘How dare you speak to me like that! You are only a servant and an outdoor one at that. In future, I shall empty the littertray as soon as I am outside the house. And don’t you dare threaten my cat, you wicked old man.’
What had happened next had shocked Lonnie to the core of her being, for Mimms had made as if to turn away, knocking the litter tray as he did so. The contents had cascaded down Lonnie’s front, staining her pink gingham dress, her white stockings and her brown leather sandals. Naturally, she had begun to shout, to accuse Mimms of deliberately attacking her, but the old man had just laughed.
‘I reckon you got what was comin’ to you,’ he said. ‘It were an accident, but unless you want a few more similar accidents, young woman, you’ll not speak to me like that again. Why, I’m fifty years older than you – didn’t no one ever tell you to show respect for your elders? D’you want everyone to think you’re a nasty, spiteful kid? Most of the servants think it already, an’ I don’t blame ’em. I disagreed, I thought you were just spoilt, but now I’m not so sure. Mebbe they’m right and you’re as black as you’re painted. What d’you say to that, eh?’
Lonnie had looked down at her ruined dress and then up into the old man’s face. Thoughts raced through her head. People, it seemed to her, did not like Leonora Victoria Hetherington-Smith very much, but this old man had not yet made up his mind. If she apologised … but why should she? He was only a servant after all.
She opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of him and with some astonishment heard her own voice saying penitently, ‘I’m very sorry, Mr Mimms. Miss Elliott is always telling me that things are different here, but sometimes I forget. I’ll take the box to
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