Kitty Neale - Sins of the Father

On Monday morning Emma was frantically trying to get the children off to school. Susan was unusually compliant, but after the telling-off Emma and Dick had given her, it wasn’t surprising.

‘Come on, off you go,’ Emma urged. ‘I won’t be home until after five o’clock, so do as Luke tells you, and don’t forget your little jobs.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll see to them,’ Luke said, and Emma smiled gratefully, again thankful that he was such a sensible and intelligent boy. As they all trooped out she watched them for a moment. Surely, even after Mr Bell taking some of the arrears out of her wages, she’d have enough left to start buying them all some decent clothes. She cast a quick glance around the room, making sure the fire was doused, and then five minutes after the children, she left for her first day at work. It wasn’t what she had hoped for, but even so, she felt a spark of excitement to be out of the dismal flat and facing something new, albeit someone else’s housework.

The June day was warm and Emma’s feet were already aching from the long walk as she approached Mr Bell’s street, but she couldn’t fail to notice the difference. The air here was cleaner than at home, with no taint of smoke from factory chimneys. The houses she walked alongside were large, immaculate, smacking of wealth, and on the opposite side was Clapham Common, a wide expanse of green grass and trees.

She passed St Barnabas’ Church and soon after was standing outside Mr Bell’s house. Like the neighbouring ones, it was huge and four storeys high. Emma took in the lovely, mellow red-brick façade and, her heart jumping with nerves, she tentatively walked down a drive lined with huge rhododendron bushes. There were bay windows on the ground floor, and a wide stone staircase leading to the front door. For a moment she halted, floundering. Should she use the front entrance or look for one at the side? Unsure, she decided on the front, hand trembling as she rang the bell.

When the door opened, Mr Bell stood there, a wide smile on his face. ‘You found it then,’ he said unnecessarily.

‘Yes,’ she murmured, shocked that he had answered the door himself. Surely in a house this size there were other staff? Mr Bell gestured her inside. Her eyes rounded as she followed him into a large hall with a sweeping, carpet-covered staircase. They almost popped out when she was led into a huge, plush room with wonderful views across the Common. The furniture looked sumptuous, large sofas with mahogany side tables, these covered with a thin layer of dust. Huge gilt-framed paintings lined the walls, and inlaid cabinets held beautiful porcelain figurines.

‘This is the drawing room,’ Mr Bell said, indicating that she should sit down, waiting until Emma perched nervously on the edge of a gilt and brocade chair. ‘I’m afraid I have to go out on business this morning,’ he continued, ‘so I’ll leave you to find your way around. You’ll find all the cleaning materials you need in a room just off the kitchen, and a Hoover.’

‘A…a Hoover?’

‘It’s a machine for vacuuming the rugs.’

Emma swallowed deeply, in awe of Mr Bell and his beautiful house. Her voice quavered as she spoke. ‘Is…is there anyone to show me how to use it?’

For a moment he looked nonplussed. ‘Well, no, I’m afraid you’ll be on your own. I did have a daily, but she proved to be untrustworthy. When my wife, Isabelle, was alive, we kept a couple of staff, but when she died I let them go.’

Emma knew that, nervous or not, she would have to speak up now or she never would. ‘Mr Bell, this is a huge house and I don’t see how I can manage to clean it on my own.’

‘Oh, don’t worry, Emma. On this floor you will only have to clean this room, along with the dining room and my study. Oh, and of course the kitchen, which is at the back of the house, with a laundry room and scullery. On the first floor I use the front bedroom and bathroom, but the rest of the bedrooms are closed and can be left.’

Emma’s shoulders slumped with relief, but then she sat up again as Mr Bell continued.

‘As for the Hoover, I’m sure you’ll work it out. I think you just plug it into the wall, and off it goes.’ Mr Bell glanced at the ornate clock on the huge mantelpiece. ‘I’m sorry, but I really must go now. I should be back before you leave but, just in case, you’d better have these.’

Emma took the large keys that he proffered, and as he hurriedly left, she relaxed, a small smile playing around her lips. If he was out all day, it wouldn’t be so bad.

Rising to her feet, she went to explore the house.

When Emma found the kitchen she gasped at the size and range of equipment. It looked unused, everything covered in a thin layer of dust. She soon found a room with mops, buckets, dusters, brushes, and what she could only imagine was the Hoover. She eyed it warily, gulping at the thought of trying to use it. With a small shake of her head she grabbed a duster and polish, deciding as she went back to the drawing room to leave the funny-looking machine where it was for the time being.

To Emma’s surprise, she found herself humming as she cleaned the room. She polished the furniture, bringing the dark wood to a beautiful shine, and found that she actually enjoyed the task. As well as the ornaments in cabinets, there were others on tables and ledges, which she moved carefully, dusting them with trepidation before gently replacing them on the surfaces.

When Emma came to the bookcase, she looked at it in awe, her eyes flicking over the titles. Oh, how wonderful to have so many lovely books to read. Reverently taking one out, she was unable to resist opening it, her eyes scanning the first page. Oh, Mr Bell was so lucky, his rooms full of so many treasures that she could only ever dream of owning.

At last the room was done, and though it looked lovely, Emma knew that the effect was spoiled by the huge, dirty rug and dusty parquet flooring that showed around the edge. Maybe she could take the rug outside and beat the dirt out of it? Yet to do that she would have to move the furniture and roll the rug up, an impossible task on her own. With a sigh Emma knew she had no choice. She fetched the Hoover, finding it cumbersome to carry, her hands shaking as she found a socket and plugged it in. The noise of the engine when it started up almost made her bolt, but then she got the hang of it, after a few minutes finding it simpler than she’d anticipated. In no time Emma was switching it off, and after she’d mopped the parquet flooring, the room was finished.

Oh, everything looked lovely, a picture, but it had taken her hours. There was still the dining room, hall, stairs, kitchen and study on this floor, but Emma’s throat was parched. With hair lank and wet with perspiration, she went to the kitchen, gulping down a couple of cups of water. For a moment she sat at the kitchen table, her eyes roaming the room. Every surface was grimy; the racks of saucepans dull from lack of use. Like the drawing room, this would take many hours to clean.

Emma fidgeted. She needed the toilet, and had seen one just off the room where the cleaning materials were kept. It was a bit damp, musty, and unused, probably for staff use, she guessed, seeing a small window festooned with cobwebs. She heaved a sigh. It needed a good clean, but it would have to wait.

The hall and stairs didn’t take as long as the drawing room, but it was now almost two o’clock. Emma was on her knees, on the last stair, when she heard a key in the lock, her eyes flying to the front door.

‘Emma, you look so hot,’ Horace Bell said as he stepped inside. ‘I can see you’ve been busy, but I really think you should have a rest now.’

Surprised by the concern in his voice, she stammered, ‘I…I’m all right, but I’m afraid I’ve only managed to clean the drawing room and hall.’