Cathy Kelly 3-Book Collection 1: Lessons in Heartbreak, Once in a Lifetime, Homecoming. Cathy KellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
Dad had read Tommy’s last letter and then crumpled it up and thrown it in the direction of the fire.
‘Tommy’s gone, why are you setting off too, Lily?’ he’d demanded gruffly. ‘We’ve had enough wars of our own to keep us going. We don’t need to be sending our children off to fight anyone else’s battles.’
Lily hadn’t replied. She knew her father’s pain was over losing his beloved son to be a soldier rather than any diatribe against a war in which the Irish Free State was taking a neutral stance.
Mam understood it better. She knew that Lily was passionate for another life, one away from Rathnaree.
‘A person would never believe the cold of this house if they didn’t experience it,’ said her mother now, hurrying into the room, dressed in her housekeeper’s uniform. ‘The beds are all damp despite it all, and there’ll be hell to pay if her ladyship comes home before it’s all settled.’
Lily jumped to her feet and poured tea into another cup and saucer. Her mother didn’t bother with china cups usually, but Lily loved the delicate feel of the bone china.
‘Here’s your tea, Mam. Sit down.’
‘I’ve no time to sit,’ her mother said, but she took the cup and sipped it gratefully standing at the great scrubbed wooden table. ‘The red bedroom smells of damp, and even with the window open, I don’t know if the smell will be gone by tomorrow. Why, in the name of the Lord, did I say it was all right for everyone to come in late today, what with all the work to be done,’ Mary fretted.
‘Sit with me,’ Lily begged, because she knew there was no point telling her mother to stop rushing for people who were not actually there and who wouldn’t appreciate her rushing anyway.
‘I’ll sit for a moment,’ her mother said, and looked wistful. Her daughter was leaving home the next day, but Mary would be busy readying the staff for the big party. The family had been in Dublin for a week and were coming home the following day with a party of friends.
Normally, the place would be buzzing even at this early hour, with Eileen Shaw, the cook, huffing and puffing about how the cold, wet weather made her cough worse. Sean, who’d been the Major’s batman in the last war and now worked as the family’s butler, would be lighting his pipe and casting irritated glances at Nora, the latest maid, who was all fingers and thumbs, organising Lady Irene’s breakfast tray. Sean was generally easy-going, but there had been quite a turnover of housemaids recently and Nora, who was young and awed by the grandeur of Rathnaree, fell short of the butler’s standards.
Last, there would be Vivi, Lily’s best friend, standing outside and having a quick cup of tea and a cigarette before she started work. Lily loved Vivi: they were like chalk and cheese, Mam said, but they were best friends, had been since school, although Vivi had left at thirteen to come and work for the Lochravens.
Mam had insisted that Lily stay on until she was seventeen, which was almost unheard of.
‘You’re daft to keep at the books,’ Vivi used to say to her. ‘Think of the fun we’ll have when you’ve a few bob in your pocket, Lily.’
Vivi was short, curvy, and had recently gone to Silvia’s Hairdressing Emporium to have a platinum rinse to her hair, doing her best to look like Jean Harlow, her heroine.
‘But I’ll have to work for bloody Lady Irene,’ Lily pointed out. That was the downside of having money. If it had to be earned in Rathnaree, she’d rather not earn it. Unfortunately, there weren’t many other options for her in Tamarin. There was no money in the Kennedy household for her to train as a nurse in one of the big hospitals, which was what she really wanted to do. So she’d ended up in Rathnaree after all, which had made Vivi happy.
Leaving her best friend behind was going to be one of the hard things about going to London, Lily thought sadly.
This morning was the last vestige of holiday for the staff. There weren’t many days when servants could lie in bed at their leisure. Tomorrow, it would be business as usual with frantic dusting, cleaning and polishing, and Eileen in a lather of sweat preparing the pheasant for the party, cooking her special wild mushroom soup and making delicate pastry for the crème mille-feuilles Lady Irene insisted upon.
The fact that the family were away was the only reason Lily had come with her mother to Rathnaree in the first place.
She hadn’t been there since the previous Christmas, when she’d left to work with old Dr Rafferty in his surgery in the village. When Dr Rafferty’s daughter got married, Lily had leapt at the chance to take over her job tidying up after the doctor, helping him out sometimes, in the hope that she might somehow find a way to train as a nurse if only she had some experience behind her.
Lady Irene had been furious, although she had hidden it behind the usual veneer of disinterest.
‘If you want to spend your life working with sick people, Lily, then I wish you luck with it,’ she’d said when Lily had formally handed in her notice.
Lady Irene’s last lady’s maid had been addressed by her surname: Ryan. But Lily, because she was the housekeeper’s daughter and had been in and out of Rathnaree since she could toddle, had been spared the harshness of being called Kennedy. It was a great sign, Lily’s mother said, pleased.
‘She’s very fond of you, love,’ Mam said with pride when Lily had been promoted, after just six months in the house, to the position of lady’s maid. ‘And why shouldn’t she be? You’re so neat and clever, and I never saw anyone fix her hair the way you can.’
Lily was quite aware that being able to dress the older woman’s thinning dark hair was not necessarily a guarantee of her civility. Fifty years of having their every whim responded to did not endow a person with grace.
They all knew that Lady Irene was high in the instep and had been brought up with a fleet of servants, far more than she had now. There had been French chefs and an Italian lady’s maid in her home in Kildare, not to mention two thousand acres of prime farmland, and an Italianate garden that lay spread in front of a vast Georgian mansion. All of which added up to the fact that she wasn’t used to being thwarted by a mere member of her staff.
‘I am surprised that you wish to leave,’ Lady Irene had added in her lethally soft voice, the pale patrician face showing an unaccustomed flush of red. Under the dusting of powder, the harsh smoker’s lines around her tight mouth were like angry furrows.
‘I thought you were happy here.’
‘I am, your ladyship,’ said Lily evenly. She’d learned to speak in calm measured tones when she’d been drafted in to replace Ryan. Her mistress was mercurial and her mood could change in an instant. Her daughter, Isabelle, was exactly the same. Luckily, Isabelle was rarely home. She’d been schooled abroad, had gone to finishing school in Switzerland, and was now touring the Italian lakes with some cousins. The war was only four months old and neither the Major nor Lady Irene felt it was anything to worry about. Nobody thought it unsafe for Isabelle to be careering around Italy in a Hispano-Suiza with chums like Monty Fitzgerald and Claire Smythe-Ford. The unspoken message, one Lily heard loud and clear, was that money and class would see a girl like Isabelle Lochraven out of any difficulties.
‘Why leave then?’
So many answers ran through Lily’s head: because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life catering to your whims like my poor mother, was foremost. She suspected that Lady Irene knew this. It was a conversation Lily didn’t want to have.
‘It’s been my dream to be a nurse since I was a child,’ Lily said, truthfully.
‘Which doctor did you say you were going to work for?’ Lady Irene pressed.
They were in the small sitting room beside her ladyship’s bedroom. It was Lily’s favourite room in the house. Her own home was a comfortable cottage with sturdy, much-loved furniture, and Rathnaree was very much a country house without frills and furbelows, but the small sitting room was the one room in the