Christmas Child: an absolutely heartbreaking and emotional Victorian romance by Carol Rivers (i wanna iguana read aloud .txt) 📗

‘Good. Now off you go and find Head.’

Head? Ettie wondered. Who or what was Head? Dare she enquire? But before she could ask, Nanny had risen, bustled her way into the next room – which Ettie supposed was the bedroom – and firmly closed the door.

She waited a few more minutes, then left by the door she had entered. Whilst taking a last look over her shoulder, Ettie almost bumped into a tall figure standing in the vestibule.

‘Look where you’re going, girl!’

Ettie looked up, for the woman was the height and strong stature of a man. Dressed in a light blue uniform, white frilled apron and a lacy white mob cap that covered her dark hair, she considered Ettie carefully.

‘O’Reilly is it, the workhouse girl?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Ettie hung her head.

‘I’m the head of Nursery staff known as Head.’

‘Yes, Head,’ Ettie replied quickly.

‘This way.’

Once again, Ettie found herself on the march. The tall woman took very long strides, and pushed open door after door, leaving Ettie to dodge them as they swung closed. Finally, they came to a very abrupt halt.

‘What are you to call me?’ The question came sharply.

Ettie opened her mouth and croaked, ‘Head!’

‘Good enough. Where are your shoes?’

‘I …I left my clogs in the boot room, Head.’

Ettie tried not to look down at her dirty feet poking out from under her skirts.

But Head said no more and they were on the move again. Eventually they entered a room filled with children’s toys. Two desks and a case of books stood beside a beautiful, dappled grey wooden horse. Daylight flowed in through the huge windows and lit up every sparkling corner. Ettie let out a small gasp of delight. The nursery was the most beautiful room she had ever seen.

Head strode on, leading the way into a passage where she opened a large cupboard. Every shelf was full of crisp, clean clothing and bed linen. She slipped out a pressed uniform of rough grey linen and a white apron. These were followed by a nightgown, pantaloons, girdle and petticoat.

‘Thank you, Head,’ Ettie gasped, not expecting to be issued with so much.

‘Keep yourself and your clothes clean,’ Head ordered. ‘There is a rota for bathing in the nursery bathroom.’

Bathing in a bathroom? Ettie thought joyously. She couldn’t imagine such a luxury.

‘You’ll need these, too.’ A pair of soft leather house shoes was dropped onto the pile. ‘How old are you?’

‘I shall be sixteen on Christmas Day, Head.’

‘Sixteen?’ The tall woman pulled her thin shoulders back sharply. ‘My advice to you, is to perform your duties to the letter. There has been a long line of hopefuls before you and none of them has survived.’

Ettie trembled. Had they died?

’Be warned, child.’

Ettie clutched her small bundle of new possessions close to her chest. Head looked as though she might have done away with them all.

Chapter 57

At last it was the end of the day and Ettie, exhausted and footsore, followed Mary to the kitchen.

‘Hurry up, or else Cook won’t give us supper.’

Ettie was still trying to remember all the duties that Head had given her. Cupboard upon cupboard to be cleaned and restocked in the nursery. Lines of shelves to be washed and furniture to be polished. The nursery staff’s quarters to be tidied, the laundry to be parcelled up and sent to an outside firm. Floors and stairs mopped in preparation for the following day. An endless maze of corridors and stairwells to negotiate. Hearths to be swept. Fires to be laid. On and on her duties went …

A bowl of hot broth and a platter of bread awaited them on the long, scrubbed scullery table. Ettie’s mouth began to water at the sight and her tummy rumbled.

‘You sit there,’ Mary ordered and Ettie took her place at the end of the bench.

Mary pushed a bowl towards her. ‘That’s yours.’ She greedily snatched two large chunks of bread, leaving the smaller piece for Ettie. ‘What do you think of Head then?’ she asked as she stuffed the bread in her mouth.

’I hope I can remember all my duties.’

‘If you don’t come up to scratch, you’ll be let go immediately.’

‘Without a chance to speak up for myself?’ Ettie enquired unadvisedly.

Mary spluttered, pushing the second crust into her mouth. ‘Ain’t no use arguing either. Skivvies like us keep their traps shut.’

Ettie shivered, recalling Head’s warning about her many predecessors.

‘Just do as you’re told,’ Mary continued letting out a loud burp. ‘That’s my advice.’

‘Can I go to church on Sunday?’ Ettie ventured.

Mary stared at her curiously. ‘You’re one of those Holy Joes, I suppose?’

’Not really.’

‘Fact is, the lowers couldn’t give a tinker’s cuss about saying prayers. They go to church just to get out of the house. God must have a laugh when he sees them sitting all pious-like in the pews.’

‘I’m sure God doesn’t mind.’

‘You are, are you?’ Mary sneered, narrowing her eyes. ‘Got your ear, has He?’

Ettie felt the sting of tears. Why did everyone in this household behave so badly? She stared down at her bowl of broth. She no longer felt hungry. What was happening in this new life of hers? She had been naive to imagine she would work as a nursemaid to the children. Her head was spinning and her empty stomach groaned, yet she could not bring herself to swallow food.

‘Look here,’ said Mary, wiping her mouth on the cuff of her sleeve, ‘you are the lowest of the low here. Just look at the colour of your uniform. Grey, ain’t it?’

Ettie gazed down at the small pile of clothes beside her.

‘What colour was Head’s?’

‘Blue,’ Ettie replied.

‘My point exactly.’ Mary lifted her hands in an impatient gesture. ‘Dogsbodies are grey, rest of the staff blue. Until you change the colour of that uniform, you count for nothing.’

Ettie thought of the workhouse. These rules were just the same.

She watched as Mary gulped down her broth. When she’d finished, she licked her lips and burped again.

‘Truth is, you are here to wait on the