Free The Loom by Sandra van Arend Page B

or how depressing it was? She felt faint even now when she remembered what had happened.
    So here she was and there was that head, looking like a dismembered thing and calling to her to come in. As there was nothing else she could do, in spite of her misgivings, Leah pushed open the gate and walked cautiously along the flagged path. On either side of the path were neat rows of vegetables. She stared at them curiously. They’d never had a garden. Fancy, growing your own food, she thought in wonder!
    As she drew nearer the door Leah smoothed down her dress and pushed the stray wisps of hair back off her face. Did she look neat enough? She felt all hot and bothered after the episode on the drive. The door was now open wide and the woman in the mob cab stood smiling at her. She wore a long black dress, over which was an immaculately starched white apron.
    ‘ Come in, lass, come in,’ she said. ‘Now, now,’ she continued, seeing the look on Leah’s face. ‘We’re not going to eat you. I’m Mrs. Walters, the cook and you must be Leah Hammond.’
    Leah nodded shyly and made her way into the kitchen. She relaxed a little at the warm welcome and, feeling more reassured she stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen.
    She looked around her. She’d never seen so many pots and pans in her life! There seemed to be hundreds, hanging from the ceiling, stacked on open shelves, on cupboards. They were everywhere. It smelt wonderful, too, in this gigantic kitchen and her mouth watered when she saw what was on the table. She hadn’t eaten much breakfast. She’d been too worried. Now she was starving! Maud saw the hungry look.
    ‘ What about one of my teacakes, love with some butter on,’ she said. She could see Leah was uneasy and Miss Fenton didn’t want to see her for another half an hour.
    ‘ You’ve time for a cup of tea as well,’ she added with a smile. Leah nodded.
    ‘ Oh yes, please, Mrs. Walters.’
    ‘ Sit yourself down then,’ Maud said and pointed to one of the chairs.
    What a lovely looking lass Maud thought, eyeing Leah surreptitiously. Just look at them eyes! She bustled about pouring Leah a mug of tea and placed it, and a teacake covered in butter (not margarine, Leah noted like they always had), in front of her on the table.
    Leah sat perched nervously on the edge of the chair, her eyes flicking from Maud’s busy figure and then around the kitchen. She was just wondering what the noise was in the scullery, when Gertie Wicklow stomped through into the kitchen. There was a frown of annoyance on her face. Seeing Leah she stopped short, the annoyance changing to surprise.
    Gertie, her expression as grim as a gate, quickly took in the small figure sitting on the chair: the auburn hair neatly braided; the wispy tendrils, the milky skin and right down to the cumbersome clogs.
    Gertie’s gaze raked her like a razor. Leah felt paralyzed by it.
    ‘ Oh,’ Gertie said, as she looked Leah up and down and then at Mrs. Walters, ‘Oh, a cup of tea already? Well, she’d better drink it quick because I’ve just seen Miss Fenton and she’s been asking about her.’ She jerked her head at Leah, who had just taken her first bite of the teacake. It now stuck in her throat like a piece of cardboard.
    ‘ Is she,’ Maud said, immediately sensing Gertie’s antagonism. ‘Well, she can wait another five minutes till Leah here gets her breath back after that long walk from Harwood. I know Miss Fenton won’t mind. Anyway, Gertie, this is Leah Hammond.’
    Gertie made a quick ungracious nod of her head.
    ‘ Leah, this is Gertie Wicklow, parlour maid at the Hall.’
    ‘ Head parlour maid you mean,’ Gertie said, pressing her lips together and straightening her apron importantly.
    ‘ Aye, well, seeing that you’re the only parlour maid here,’ Maud replied sarcastically, ‘Then I suppose you’re the head parlour maid. And if you are then you’d better get cracking, because the mistress has been ringing for her tea