Free The Loom by Sandra van Arend Page A

the reasons she’d taken the job at the Hall.
    The war had taken her husband and two strapping sons, for whom she still cried at night in the privacy of her room. So she’d jumped at the chance to do some cooking and to get amongst people and have a bit of company again. She’d never got on with her daughter and anyway, Maggie had married and gone to live in Manchester, so she didn’t see her from one year’s end to the next. So there had been no one left to cook for, except herself and she didn’t have a lot of interest in eating.
    Maud went back to the table and began to knead another lot of bread. She thought again of how this job had been a godsend. It had only been temporary, initially. She’d filled in for Mrs. Dobson, who’d broken her ankle in a snowdrift. Her luck must have been in, because they’d offered her the job permanently when the ankle had failed to mend. The nobs knew when they were well off, though, because even if she did say so herself her cooking was a labour of love.
    ‘ A wonderful dinner, Mrs. Walters,’ they would say time and time again. And so they should, she thought, with another determined thump to the bread. Mrs. Dobson had been a bit of a slacker, if you could believe all the stories going around.
    At the moment Maud’s mind wasn’t entirely on her cooking. It kept wandering to the imminent arrival of the new girl, who was expected at any moment.
    As if voicing her thoughts Gertie Wicklow, the parlour maid, came into the kitchen to prepare a tray for upstairs.
    ‘ Not here, then?’ she said. ‘It’s nearly seven. She should’ve been here by now, her first day and all.’ She didn’t give Maud time to reply, but went through into the scullery. Her whining voice continued, making Maud cringe.
    ‘ When she does she can get started in here. There’s already plenty to do.’
    She traipsed back into the kitchen to get the crockery for the tray.
    ‘Now, now, hold your horses, Gertie. Let the lass get her feet before you start bossing her around. Anyway, Leah’ll only be filling in till the new maid comes next week. She’ll have her work cut out with all the sewing Miss Fenton wants her to do.’ Maud spoke sharply, thinking once again how much she disliked Gertie. She looked through the window again.
    ‘ Oh, that must be her now.’
    Maud peered through the kitchen window. At the far end of the kitchen garden a small figure paused uncertainly, her hand on the garden gate. Dusting the flour from her hands and arms and then wiping them with a cloth, Maud went to the door.
    ‘ I’d better give her a call. She looks like she doesn’t know what she’s doing.’
    Gertie heard Maud’s comment from the scullery.
    ‘ Well, I hope she knows what she’s going to do in here,’ she said sourly.
    Maud made an irritated noise in the back of her throat. She opened the door and called out.
    ‘ Oo, oo. Come on, this way.’
    Leah looked up startled. All she could see was a white cap and a face peering round the door. She’d been told to take the side path, although she’d wanted to go right round and have a look at the front of the house. But after what had happened with the man on the horse she felt subdued. She might already be in trouble and she didn’t want to add to it.
    The truth was she was getting cold feet. What was she letting herself in for? She’d no idea what went on in a big house like the Hall and the thought of working in a kitchen had almost made her change her mind and go back to the mill, because she wasn’t too keen on cooking or cleaning. She was relieved when she was told that her main job would be to help with the sewing. She liked sewing, but just couldn’t see herself scrubbing pots and pans from morning till night.
    When she really thought about returning to the mill, however, she went cold. She’d gone back once with her mother to give her notice. Even that short time had been enough. Why had she never noticed the noise before, or the dankness of it,