Free Twisted Strands by Margaret Dickinson Page B

had a lot to learn about life in the city.
    ‘Your bath’s ready, miss.’ Emily had woken her on her first morning at eight o’clock.
    Bright light streamed through the curtains, which the girl had opened and, startled, Bridie jumped out of bed. ‘Oh, whatever time is it? I’m late.’ Then realizing where she
was, she laughed. ‘I forgot.’
    ‘Your bath’s ready, miss,’ the maid repeated and added, ‘And breakfast is served in the dining room at nine o’clock.’
    ‘Bath?’
    ‘Yes, miss. The bathroom’s just outside your door, to the left.’
    ‘Oh. Thank you.’
    Bath night to Bridie was on a Friday in a tin bath on the pegged hearthrug in front of the kitchen fire, her gran pouring in hot water from the range whilst Josh was banished to the front room
until she had finished. Now, it seemed, she was expected to bathe each morning.
    When the maid had gone, Bridie tiptoed a little nervously into the bathroom and gasped. Shiny, patterned wallpaper covered the walls and on the floor was black-and-white chequered linoleum. A
huge cast-iron bath with clawed feet, half full of steaming water, was against one wall and near the opposite wall was a marble-topped, tile-backed washstand with a bowl and water jug. This too was
full of hot water. Soap and sponge lay in matching dishes and a brand-new hog’s hair toothbrush had been laid out for Bridie’s use. White, lace-edged towels hung on a rail and soaps and
perfumes lined a shelf. Bridie had never seen anything like this in her life, but sinking into the gloriously hot water, she thought: I could get used to this.
    Her aunt’s home was so very different from the farm where both she and Bridie had been brought up. This was a town house in an elegant street of tall, terraced houses. It had an entrance
hall with rooms on either side. What did Auntie Evie call them? Bridie wrinkled her nose, trying to recall. The morning room, the drawing room, and then there was the dining room and Uncle
Richard’s study too. And somewhere, at the back, there must be the kitchen and scullery and maybe a servants’ sitting room. Upstairs there were four bedrooms, the bathroom she was in at
this moment and then up another flight of stairs, were the servants’ bedrooms.
    What would her gran think to all this? Bridie thought, as she began to soap herself all over, relishing the luxury.
    How lucky Aunt Eveleen was to be married to a man like Uncle Richard. But then, the girl thought: I’d be quite happy to live in a tiny cottage with a tin bath on the hearth once a week, if
only Andrew really loved me.
    They did indeed do a lot of gallivanting. Eveleen took her round the city shops, buying her niece a dark blue dress with a white, lace-trimmed smock to wear over it, a coat and
beret-type hat.
    ‘Now, you really look a grown-up young lady,’ Richard said as the girl paraded before him that evening. She didn’t really, Bridie thought, for the style was still childish, but
she had not liked to seem ungrateful for her aunt’s generosity.
    ‘Tomorrow,’ Richard was saying, ‘I’ll take you on the river. And the following day I’ll take you on a tour of the factory, that’s if you’d like to see
it. Then on your last night here, we’ll take you out to dine in a smart restaurant and then to the theatre.’
    Bridie clapped her hands. ‘Oh, I’d love to see where you work.’ Hurriedly, she added, ‘Where you both work. Then when I’m back home I can picture you at home and at
work too. I can imagine what you’re doing.’
    Eveleen and Richard exchanged a glance. Her words had a sad and lonely ring to them.
     
Twelve
    ‘Do you know, Richard, it’s a joy to see her delight in everything,’ Eveleen told him as they sat across the breakfast table before Bridie appeared on her
last morning with them. ‘I’ve just heard her singing in the bath.’
    ‘Mmm,’ Richard said absently, not looking up from his newspaper.
    ‘Darling, did you hear what I