Page 49

Chapter 49

November 1931

Three weeks after her first visit, Beatrice Sidcup stood on the doorstep of 25 Library Terrace again, but on this occasion, she was not alone.

It was Isobel who answered the door and took their coats.

‘You must be Olivia,’ she said to the young woman.

‘I am Isobel. Welcome to number 25.’ Seeing Olivia at close quarters, she wondered how Ann was going to react.

In the intervening weeks there had been many discussions at number 25.

Every breakfast and dinnertime had been dominated by the decision about what to do.

Furniture had been moved around in the upstairs bedrooms, and the house had been thoroughly cleaned under Isobel’s exacting guidance.

The drawing-room window had been repaired but the chimney had not yet been swept and the room was still too cold to be welcoming, and anyway, Ann had reasoned to the others, ‘We are not accustomed to entertaining in there and I refuse to pretend to be something I’m not.

’

Isobel had made a lemon cake.

The men were out at work but would be back in time to meet the visitors.

The occasion had been carefully planned.

Ann stood at the end of the hall, beside the kitchen door.

Every thought in her head evaporated as Olivia started to walk towards her.

The young woman was clearly her brother’s daughter.

The same blonde curls, the same eyes.

She even had the same slightly turned-out feet that she had herself, that her father had always teased her about, and told her it was because someone had forgotten to tighten her legs up properly.

Isobel rushed ahead of the visitors and rescued the situation.

‘We are in the kitchen again, Mrs Sidcup. I’m afraid we are still waiting for the chimney sweep.

They are so busy at this time of year when people are thinking about getting ready for Christmas.

’

By the time they were gathered around the kitchen table, Ann had regained some composure.

Isobel had seated Olivia opposite Ann and placed herself and Mrs Sidcup at the other end of the table.

‘Thank you for inviting us to see you, Miss Black.’ Beatrice Sidcup’s voice was cool and polite.

She seemed to be in a much more controlled frame of mind than she had been on her previous visit.

‘It’s my pleasure,’ replied Ann evenly, her heart racing.

She looked across at Olivia.

‘I understand that you hope to study at the university. Perhaps you might begin by telling me a little about that.’

Mrs Sidcup frowned and cleared her throat and it was all Isobel could do not to kick her under the table.

Any semblance of desperation and gratitude had vanished.

Olivia got there before her mother.

Her voice, the tone, the consideration of each word was so much like Finlay when he was younger that Ann found it quite distracting.

‘As I expect my mother has told you, I plan to study mathematics. I hope to start my first year next autumn, and my mother had arranged perfectly adequate lodgings for me. However, on Monday the landlord terminated the arrangement without warning. He thought that my name was Oliver, not Olivia, and used that as justification. I now need somewhere else to live. My mother feels that once she travels to Canada it will be necessary for me to lodge with someone, and that I cannot manage alone. I’m not sure why she feels this to be the case, as I am perfectly capable, but as I’m not the person paying the rent, it seems I do not have a say in the matter.

’

Ann tried hard to concentrate.

This young woman had spirit and was prepared to say things older ears might find difficult.

She liked her already.

‘I am not sure if you know this,’ she replied, ‘but I knew your father.’

Mrs Sidcup’s eyes widened.

‘I knew him when he was a young man. He spent a lot of time in this house.’ She was determined not to lie.

How her carefully chosen words were interpreted was up to the listener.

Olivia turned to look at her mother.

‘You never mentioned this.’

Ann pressed on.

‘After discussing the situation with the other members of the household over the last few days, I would like to offer you lodgings here.’

‘Other members?’ Mrs Sidcup was blindsided.

‘There are four of us living at number 25. Myself, Isobel, her fiancé Robert Buchan and my friend Mr Anderson. Perhaps you would like to look around?’

Olivia was first on her feet.

‘Yes, please,’ she said, before her mother could object.

‘I would be very interested to see where I might be living.’

For several days, Ann had been walking around the house, talking to herself as she practised giving a guided tour.

‘This is the kitchen, as you can see, and the scullery is through there with a lavatory at the end, and then there is the garden.’ She pointed to the wooden staircase.

‘That leads to the maid’s room, but this is 1931, and we don’t have a maid, so we all join in with the cleaning and cooking.

Isobel is using it temporarily while her own room is being decorated,’ she said firmly.

‘And after that it will become my office.’ She led them into the hall, improvising rapidly.

‘There is a bathroom downstairs, and that’s the one the ladies use.

’ Ann was careful to address her explanations to Olivia, and not to her mother.

‘Through here is the drawing room, which is where we entertain guests and we will have bigger events like Christmas; it’s the next room on the list to be decorated, and I hope it will be finished in time for the festive season.

’ She pointed at the dining-room door but didn’t open it.

‘That’s my room. And then if you follow me upstairs you can see the rest of the house.

Please count these stairs as you go up, it’s very important.

’

The four women made their way up the stairs and paused on the landing at the top.

‘Here we have a second bathroom, and four other rooms. Two are bedrooms for Mr Buchan and Mr Anderson. One is empty for the moment, and the fourth room is the parlour.’ She threw open the door.

‘We haven’t used it as a parlour for many years and, as you can see, it’s in the process of being wallpapered.

This might be yours, Olivia.

It’s the biggest room in the house, and I’ve been thinking that when you start your course next year, there may be a fellow student who might like to share it with you?

It would make it a little less costly for your parents, and it might help your academic work if you have someone with whom to discuss your studies.

’ She anticipated Mrs Sidcup’s protest. ‘It would also mean you have a friend of your own age here. I would not want you to feel you are stuck in this house with a collection of antiquarian residents.’

Ann could see Olivia processing all the information logically, just as Finlay would have, examining the arguments and possibilities.

‘I am sure there will be someone suitable,’ Olivia replied.

‘And while I wait to begin, I can look for a job.’

Beatrice Sidcup could no longer contain herself.

‘Perhaps we could leave your maid and Olivia together to look around more thoroughly. I have some questions about the unusual living arrangements in this household.’ She turned and left the room.

Ann nodded at Isobel.

They had both forecast this reaction.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Beatrice Sidcup was incandescent.

‘I cannot believe that you have hoodwinked me.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I know Isobel is your maid – Daniel told me about her, and her history of thieving.’ Ann looked at her, saying nothing and allowing Mrs Sidcup to hang herself.

‘And I was unaware that you had men staying in the house. There are no keys in any of the locks on the doors, and you aren’t going to tell me that Isobel uses the downstairs bathroom in the night.

’

‘Oh, she does,’ replied Ann, crossing her fingers quickly in her pocket, ‘it’s not a word of a lie.

We both do.’

‘I simply do not believe you. I think you are an .?.?.’ she searched for a description, ‘.?.?. an extraordinarily manipulative woman.’

Ann stiffened.

‘That’s your prerogative, Mrs Sidcup, but I invite you to examine the contents of the medicine cabinet in the downstairs bathroom and to smell the fragranced soap which sits beside the sink.

It is not a place a man would use.

’

They didn’t hear Isobel and Olivia coming down the stairs and along the hall to the kitchen.

‘And as for Isobel being my maid, she is no such thing. Isobel is my friend. She is my equal. As are the two gentlemen who live here.’

As she said this, the scullery door was pushed open from the garden and Keith and Rab appeared.

‘Perhaps you would like to meet them? Keith, Robert, this is Mrs Sidcup. She is the mother of Olivia, who I hope will be joining us at number 25.’

Keith offered his hand, but it was ignored.

He put it back in the pocket of his overalls.

‘Keith Anderson. It’s me that’s wallpapering the room for your daughter .

.?.’ he paused, ‘if she wants it, that is.’

Olivia smiled at Keith.

‘Oh, I do want it. I really do.’

Rab walked over to stand beside Isobel.

‘And I’m Robert Buchan.

’

‘You’re Isobel’s fiancé, Miss Black told me.

’ Beatrice Sidcup’s tone made it seem as though she doubted the truth of the matter.

He looked at her and stood a little taller.

‘Yes, that’s right, I am.

We were talking about setting a date for the wedding just last week.

We’re saving for a place of our own, but for the moment we live here.

’

‘Is there anything else?’ said Ann.

‘Is that everything settled now?’

‘Twenty-two stairs,’ said Olivia.

‘Counting from the bottom, two, fifteen and five.’

‘Very good. You passed the test.’

Beatrice Sidcup knew when she was beaten.

‘It seems as though everything has been arranged rather more quickly than I was expecting.’ She picked up her handbag.

Ann looked at Olivia.

‘Before you leave, there are just a few rules you need to agree to. As soon as you are twenty-one you must register to vote. This is compulsory. And this is a vegetarian house; we don’t eat meat or fish here.

Is that likely to be a difficulty?

’

Olivia didn’t give her mother a chance to answer.

‘Not at all. It’s absolutely fine.

I do have one question, if I may?

’

Ann nodded.

‘What should I call you? Would you prefer Miss Black? Or Ann?’

Beatrice Sidcup butted in.

‘You must call her Miss Black; that’s only polite, of course.

’

Ann shook her head, and her corkscrewed hair quivered.

‘Definitely not.’ She paused momentarily.

‘Ann is the name I was given when I was born, but I never liked it and I recently decided to change it. My brother used to call me something else.’ She looked across the room at Isobel and Rab, who were holding hands, and at Keith.

‘You may call me Annie.’

Keith looked back at her, and mouthed the three words he said to her, every single day.