‘At least it’s a clean job and it’s honest work,’ Annie said.
‘Well, Daddy certainly couldn’t have entertained getting a manual job like those dreadful men we passed on the way here. They looked so rough.’ Florence was trembling as she spoke. ‘Really low, working-class men they looked. They probably spend half their lives in a pub,’ she added contemptuously. ‘You must never forget, Annie, that regardless of what has happened to us we are not like the common people of the lower orders.’
‘At least whatever wages you get will put some food on the table,’ Annie said to her father who seemed to be preoccupied peering into cupboards.
He stood up. ‘As I see it, most of whatever pittance of a wage I earn will be going in rent. Imagine, we have to pay rent for this … this hovel.’
‘Don’t worry, Daddy,’ Annie said encouragingly. ‘I’ll go to work too. Just as soon as I can find a job.’
She thought that would please him, but instead of looking happy her father shook his head. ‘That’s wonderful. We are descendants of the line of the great Beaumonts of Clitheroe; we can trace our roots back to William the Conqueror and we’re used to having nothing but the best. We should be enjoying servants to make our lives comfortable as we get older and instead my only daughter is talking about going out to work.’
‘Not just me. Mummy, you will have to work too,’ Annie said, though she was not sure how that would be received.
Her father raised his eyebrows and Florence looked aghast. But Annie sounded determined. ‘Don’t you agree, Mummy? I suggest you make it known among the neighbours that you’re an extremely able needlewoman. It would help enormously if you could begin to take in some sewing.’
Florence looked shocked. ‘You seem to have an answer for everything, young lady,’ she admonished. ‘So tell me, who’s going to do all the cooking and cleaning, not to mention the shopping? We’ll need to get someone in to see to all of that. Small as it is, the house will still need to be looked after, not to mention that we’ll need someone to look after us. You’ve already told us there are only two bedrooms, so I imagine the servant will somehow have to sleep down here.’
Annie looked at her mother with pity now, but Florence was following a new train of thought as she looked round the dismal room.
‘Those wretched bailiffs have allowed us to keep so few possessions that I don’t know where to begin, but I need to start making a list of what we’ll need to buy and what the servant will need to do.’ She sniffed. ‘Not that there’s sufficient space to bring in much in the way of furniture.’ There was barely enough room for the few bits they had been allowed to salvage from their old house. Annie thought back to the morning of the previous day when she’d watched helplessly as the bailiffs piled their few bags onto a wagon that the horses then drove away. By some miracle, the boxes were waiting for them when Annie had first arrived, but they didn’t actually amount to much. Annie stood up. She couldn’t sit here and listen to more of her mother’s delusional ramblings. There were things to be done – and even if it hadn’t dawned on Florence yet, Annie understood that she and her mother were the ones who would have to do them.
She looked at the ashes in the grate that must have heated the range at the back of the room near the stairs. Perhaps the first thing she needed to do was to learn how light a fire. Not that it was cold, fortunately, but as long as there was no fire, she now realized, there wouldn’t be any hot water for tea. She went into the back yard and then into the alleyway beyond to look for some kindling and old scraps of paper which she had seen their kitchenmaid turn into a fire at home. She collected what she could and went back inside.
‘And who’s going to do the shopping and the cooking? You haven’t answered me that one.’ Florence was trailing round after her now, following her into the scullery where Annie was searching for any usable pots. ‘We’ve lost cook and the butler and all the servants,’ her mother was wailing. ‘I don’t know how we shall begin to replace them.’
To Annie’s disgust she thought her mother was going to cry again. Instead, Florence whined, ‘Who’s going to feed us?’ And she sat down again by the table once more, only this time with her head in her hands.
‘Sadly, we need to wake up to the fact that nobody but us is going to feed us, Mother.’ Annie had tried to be gentle but now she spoke more sharply. ‘We’ll have to learn how to feed ourselves.’
At that, Florence jerked up her head but before she could say anything Annie jumped in. ‘The fact of the matter is that you and I will have to learn some new housekeeping skills. I’ve already spoken to Mrs Brockett, the old lady we saw before, across the road.’ She held up her hands before her mother could respond. ‘Not that I’ve told her much about our exact position but she has agreed to try to help us. In exchange for the odd loaf of bread, she’ll give me some cooking lessons.’
Florence looked bemused. ‘Where will we buy the bread from to give her?’
‘Oh, Mother!’ Annie became exasperated. ‘That’s the whole point. We won’t buy it. We’ll make it ourselves. She’ll show me how to do it and how to cook a few simple meals. She’d help you too if only you’d agree. She has very kindly said she’ll tell me what ingredients we have to buy and where to get them and then she’ll show me how to cook them over the fire.’
Then Florence did begin to cry in earnest. She had barely been inside the kitchen in the grand house in Clitheroe except first thing in the morning when she used to check in with the housekeeper and issue orders for the day’s meals to the cook. But Annie had no time for her.
‘Oh, really, Mother, do pull yourself together.’ She could no longer hide her exasperation. ‘Here, have a look at this.’ She threw the Clitheroe Echo down onto the table. ‘Maybe you can find yourself a job this way. I know there’s not much around at the moment, particularly for women. These are depressing times, as Daddy said. The men claimed back all their jobs after the Great War so there’s precious little available for ladies right now. But you never know.’ The front page was filled with classified ads and she had ringed a few items. ‘I’m hoping I might have something lined up pretty soon. I shall be going into town this very afternoon to at least one shop where I believe there’s a vacancy.’
Florence looked up. ‘Really, darling! Some of the things you say. The very idea of it. Are you trying to shock me or something?’
Annie stared at her mother in disbelief. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, how can you say such a thing? A daughter of mine even thinking of going out to work in a shop. You can’t seriously want to do that – what on earth would people say?’
Annie shook her head and gave a disdainful laugh. ‘It’s not a question of wanting to, Mother, but it’s needs must when the devil drives, you have to know that.’
‘Annie, for goodness sake. I do hope you’re not implying that it’s the devil that’s driving you.’
Annie held her breath for a moment before replying. She was afraid her mother really didn’t understand the seriousness of their situation. ‘I fear I am, Mother,’ she said eventually. ‘But the trick is: we can’t allow the devil to win.’
‘But what will you do in this “job” of yours? Where have you decided to work?’ Florence made no attempt to look at the paper. ‘I can’t read in this light without my glasses.’
Annie sighed. ‘It may not be a question of choice.’ Annie was trying to be practical and realistic, though she had no doubt about her ability to carry out any one of the first few jobs she had marked. ‘Obviously, I shall look for as good a position as possible but I may have to take whatever I am offered.’
Florence looked horrified, so Annie went on, ‘My preferred