Lexi stopped in her tracks for a moment. Could this be the next little bit of her big plan? Because if she was chosen to sing, she would be paid a fee, so the Councillor had said …
She bit her lip as she walked on slowly, making up her mind that for now, the only soul she would tell about this would be Johnny … Johnny would be amazed, and excited for her. But she certainly would not mention it to her mother, because Lexi knew very well the reaction she’d get.
In Cecilia’s opinion, her daughter was still a child, far too young to be assuming any financial responsibility. There was plenty of time for all that.
Later that night, Cecilia paused on her way upstairs to peep into the bedroom which her children shared. Going over quietly, she gazed down. Lexi and Phoebe slept in the one bigger bed, while Joe was still in his cot, his thumb in his mouth, as usual. Cecilia drew in a long, deep breath. They were her sole reason for being alive.
Just then, Lexi stirred, smiling and muttering something in her sleep. What was she dreaming about, Cecilia wondered, this precious little girl, who’d arrived six weeks early? The very first glimpse Cecilia had had of her tiny one had been enough to convince her that she’d delivered a princess. Someone just as lovely to look at as Princess Alexandra of Denmark, wife of the wretched man who had become King Edward VII, that drunken, womanizing monarch now thankfully departed this life.
And what had that dear little foreign princess ever done to deserve such a fate, marrying him at the tender age of sixteen? But as far as anyone knew, and from all the pictures in the newspapers, Alexandra, known as Alix, had always remained as lovely as ever, and truly faithful to her undeserving husband. And Cecilia had known almost at once that her baby was going to be called Alexandra as a sort of act of loyalty to the uncomplaining queen. But rather than Alix, Cecilia’s little giirl would always be known as Lexi, a short, sweet, and simple name.
As the years had gone on, nothing had changed Cecilia’s opinion of her first-born who was rather small for her age, but whose long, golden, wavy hair surrounded a cherubic face and the brightest green eyes and longest lashes she’d ever seen, convincing Cecilia that she had given birth to an infant just as regal as any born to Edward and Alexandra.
Then, slowly, and in the quietness of the room alone with her thoughts, Cecilia put her hand to her mouth for a second.
What if Lexi, her darling Lexi, had never existed? What if she had never taken her first breath, nor uttered that first infant cry? What if something dreadful had occurred while Cecilia’s baby had still been in the womb? Things, bad things, frequently happened to the unborn, either from a deliberate act or through an act of God…..
Cecilia shook herself, annoyed at these dreadful thoughts. Lexi was here, alive and well, and as beautiful as she would always be.
In the other small bedroom, Cecilia slowly got undressed. It was surprising how quickly she and the children had got used to this new cottage which had two bedrooms. Before, she and Albert had had to make do with a small curtained-off space in the kitchen for their sleeping quarters. Not only that, but now there was a small sitting room downstairs as well as a kitchen and scullery. When they’d moved in last year the place had seemed as big as a mansion.
Cecilia made a face to herself. Albert hadn’t even seen the new place yet, knew nothing of the sudden notice to quit which all the tenants in their old rank had received from Mr McCann last year. Everyone had been given a month to find other accommodation, or to accept one of the new cottages which would be double the rent. A familiar well of anger rose in Cecilia’s throat. Landlords had the whip hand every time and there was nothing that could be done about it. No law existed that favoured tenants.
Still, Cecilia had to admit that the new cottages were a distinct improvement. The rooms were lighter and airier, the kitchen was bigger, the fireplace quite posh – and they even had a small gas stove now for cooking and heating water. In their old kitchen the fire had never been allowed to go out – well, they’d depended on it for all their needs – but it had made the little kitchen so comfortable. Lexi and Johnny had loved going out into the fields to collect twigs and bits of wood to keep the fire alive and to supplement the precious coal. There was no need now to keep a bucket of coal dust, purchased for a penny or two, to damp the fire down and keep the glowing embers alive.
But the best thing of all was that they now had a bath in the scullery, the water heated by a gas boiler, and next to that there was a lavatory – so much more comfortable and convenient than everyone having to wait their turn for the outside privy, like they used to. There’d usually been a small queue of women there, smoking, sharing a joke, often someone eaten out with anxiety that their time of the month had come and gone with no sign … exchanging advice about all their personal problems. Cecilia bit her lip as she thought back. Some of that camaraderie, that female support, seemed to have –disappeared – not that it mattered to her now, nor ever would again. Cecilia Martin had everything she needed.
One extra advantage of the move was that they were now closer to the school so Phoebe and, eventually, Joe could get there safely by themselves. The snag – and it was a big snag – was that increase in rent. Yet somehow, by accepting more night work at the laundry and doing as much private tailoring as she could fit in, Cecilia had been able to afford it. There’d been others in the row who hadn’t been so lucky and who’d had to cadge accommodation from friends or relatives until they could find something more permanent and more affordable.
As she got into bed Cecilia’s lips tightened. Mr McCann had no idea how the other half of the world lived, no idea at all. But she always kept quiet, and had never, ever, indulged in gossiping with others about their landlord. With most people, his name was mud. But he paid his employees well enough, and Cecilia often did housework at Grey Gables, not to mention answering Mr McCann’s incessant need for new waistcoats and smart jackets – which she created from scratch. And there seemed to be always something that he’d bought which needed altering. His wardrobe must be bulging with clothes.
Cecilia was pensive as she drifted off to sleep. The thing she was finding irritating was trying to persuade Lexi that supporting the family was not her problem, and certainly not a child’s responsibility. Cecilia, was well able to cope alone – she’d had plenty of practice, after all. But she had at last accepted that the little job Lexi had at the sweet shop seemed to suit her daughter, who’d never seemed happier – it was a very respectable job, after all. And the money Lexi earned did come in very handy, although Cecilia would only take a little of it. Cecilia half-smiled to herself. Lexi had such grand ambitions, was so determined to save money, to be someone, do something special one day. Yet what chance did people in their class have, to raise themselves above the norms of the time? No chance, none at all.
Cecilia turned over restlessly. The best thing that Lexi could do was to become a lady’s maid in a grand household, where you were paid a good salary and your bed and board were thrown in. And most of all, you were respected. It gave you status. Lexi would be just perfect at the job – she’d done well at school, she spoke well, she wrote well, and people seemed to like her. Yes, that was the thing, Cecilia decided. If Lexi became a lady’s personal maid she would one day live in a grand house with a very superior address, and never have to worry about finding a roof over her head.
But if and when the time came, Cecilia would warn Lexi to be very cautious in her choice of husband – should she ever want to get married. Little Princess Alexandra could never have guessed what had awaited her – and neither had Cecilia’s mother who’d married a man who’d beaten her and all her children without mercy. Which was why Cecilia had run away from home at the age of twelve with nothing but the clothes she’d stood up in and a little money she’d secretly stored. Then, going from place to place, she’d found work wherever she could get it; shops, hotels, scrubbing, cleaning, a maid of all work. But it hadn’t taken long for her talent with a needle to be recognized and soon she was repairing hotel pillow cases, worn sheets, tablecloths. It all helped her to stay