Page 9

Chapter 9

January 1911

The knock at the scullery door was hesitant, and Isobel didn’t hear it at first. She was concentrating on lifting a tray of jam tarts out of the oven and it was only when the knock came a second time that she glanced across at the kitchen window and saw the familiar face of the postman.

She put the hot baking tin down on the table and hurried to answer the door.

‘Morning, Duncan. Come away in and get a heat in front of the range.’

‘You’re on your own, then?

’

‘It’s just me for the next hour or so.

’

He stepped into the scullery and closed the door behind him.

‘I’ll be glad to get indoors for a wee while, and no mistake.

This city always lives up to its reputation.

Even when it’s sunny, there’s a wind.

’

‘I’ll leave you to .

.?.’ She glanced towards the far end of the scullery where the door to the lavatory was kept firmly closed.

‘Thank you kindly.’ He heaved the canvas mail bag off his shoulder and put it down next to the sink with a groan.

‘I thought things would ease off after the turn of the year, but no, the whole world is sending letters and cards as though there is a second Christmas on the way.’

‘I can give you a scone if you like? I made them yesterday.’

‘If you’re sure you can spare one, that would be most welcome.

’

Isobel opened the cake tin and selected the most misshapen scone: golden brown, with crunchy demerara sugar on the top and studded with sultanas.

It took only a minute to split it and spread it with butter and raspberry jam.

She popped it into a brown paper bag saved from the greengrocer’s delivery and set it down on the table.

Duncan washed his hands at the scullery sink when he was finished.

She had always insisted on this, and he went along with her rules.

‘How are things with you then, Isobel?’ He pointed to the door that led to the hall.

‘Is she settling in?’

‘I think so.’

‘No problems?’ He paused.

‘You’re not thinking of moving on?

’

‘I’m not. Not yet, anyway.

’ She counted the tarts in her head as she transferred them onto a wire rack to cool.

‘She seems alright so far. But a lot of people are nice to begin with, and then they change later.’

‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.

’

‘I’m not sure she really knows how to treat me.

One minute she seems quite happy with my work, and then an hour later I feel as though she’s checking up on everything I do.

’

‘She’s not like the last one, though?

’

Isobel shook her head.

‘No. But I’m not counting my chickens.

’

‘And she is kind to the young girl? That’s what matters the most.’ He picked up the paper bag and looked inside.

‘A scone and raspberry jam. You have a good heart, Isobel. My wife will be very jealous. She often talks about last year, when you made that cake for her birthday. My grandchildren were happy too, they talked about it for weeks.’ He took hold of the top corners of the bag and twirled it around in the air, twisting it closed.

‘I’m not sure I can promise you a cake this year.

It was easier when it was just me, but most days I’ve got Mrs Black for company now.

’

‘But she is kind?’ he repeated.

‘To the girl?’

‘As far as I know.’ She studied her hands, wrinkled and red from washing the dishes.

‘I do hope so. Miss Ann had enough trouble with her mother, she can’t be dealing with any more.

’

He hoisted the mail bag back onto his shoulder.

‘I’d better be off. Your neighbours might be taking notes.

’ He reached forward and touched her arm.

‘You did your best, Isobel. That’s all any of us can do.

’

‘I suppose. If only I had realised sooner.’

He shook his head.

‘And what could you have done?’

‘I don’t know.

’

‘Nothing. You could have done nothing.’

‘But—’

‘You have to stop blaming yourself, Isobel. It was not your fault.’ He opened the scullery door.

‘I’m sorry, I really must go.

’

‘Wait a minute!’ Isobel rubbed her forehead, leaving a floury mark.

‘I’ve been thinking that we need a sign.

Something so you know whether I’m on my own in the house or not.

’

‘I suppose we don’t want anyone finding me in here when I should be out delivering.

’

‘I’ll put the blue jar of soft soap on the scullery windowsill when she goes out, and I’ll take it away when she’s here.

It’s not as though you call in every day, and it’s easy to see from the back gate.

’

‘Right you are.’

‘If you see the jar then the coast is clear. And as long as you are ready to say you made a mistake if you do see her, that’ll make it alright.

’

‘We can try that. I just don’t want you to get into trouble.

’

‘I’ll be fine. We can do this.

Give my regards to your wife.

’

After he left, she put the blue jar on the windowsill.

It looked pretty there, with the winter sunlight catching the sheen of the pottery.

And half an hour later, when she heard Ursula return and the front door banging, she moved the jar further along the workbench.

No one would notice, she was sure of it.

People were not aware of things that did not affect them.

That was how all the trouble had started before, with folk, and good ones at that, simply not noticing what was happening right under their noses.