Hi, I may have officially lost my marbles but after my recent foray into the world of Pride & Prejudice I couldn't resist a little modern Our Girl/Jane Austen crossover story just for fun although I feel I should apologise in the same breath to both Tony Grounds and Miss Austen. If you happen to recognise a few characters and some of the plot of a well-known novel – coughs…Northanger Abbey – then you'd be right. As the story begins young, impoverished Molly Dawes is working for a rather well-heeled couple and dreaming of a much more exciting life…
Chapter One
Elbow deep in a Belfast sink full of tepid, greasy water, Molly Dawes wondered what had ever possessed her to take this job.
When her Dad, Dave, had come home from the pub with the rather excited and slightly inebriated suggestion that she get round to see his mate, Charlie, who knew a bloke who knew another bloke who was hiring staff for rich clients who needed seasonal help, she had been sceptical. She had actually wondered if it was just a front for some dodgy activity that involved working in sleazy adult only bars or possibly worse but she was nonetheless curious. Charlie's contact turned out to be a Mike of 'Forefront Staff' and to her great surprise the offer had turned out to be genuine. He had made it sound as if she would be getting a free holiday in a fabulous location in exchange for a bit of light domestic work, accommodation and generous pocket money. Longing for a bit of adventure and wondering if she would ever see more than the bright lights of Upton Park, Molly had decided to take a chance and registered all her details. When Mike had finally phoned her a few weeks later to tell her that she had been hired for the summer she couldn't help but be excited by the prospect of travelling and spending the summer somewhere hot and exotic. Her mind was racing ahead and she realised with a start that she'd need to get her passport sorted out pretty quickly. However, when, with a forced note of enthusiasm in his voice, Mike had asked her what she thought of a spending three months in sunny Bath she hadn't been slow in giving her opinion, "It sounds a bit shit."
It seemed as if Mike wasn't particularly surprised by Molly's response. The truth, which he was keeping from her, was that this assignment had been turned down by everyone else on his list, all of whom had been looking for something better and she was the last person he had called having impressed him the least of all the candidates he had interviewed. Even though he felt he was scraping the bottom of the barrel he had tried to buoy her up by saying what a wonderful couple the Allens were, being a kind, elderly couple who treated their staff almost as members of the family and what lovely comments he'd had from previous employees, none of whom it seemed wished to repeat the experience of working for them again. Molly had sensed this was not going to be her dream job. An elderly couple didn't sound as if they were going to be hosting many wild parties or have many interesting social engagements although on the other hand perhaps the workload would be pretty light. She had almost told Mike to forget it but looking around her, seeing the piles of ironing all over the lounge, the toys of her younger brothers and sisters littering the floor, hearing her mum and dad rowing upstairs and thinking of the cramped bedroom she shared with Bella, she wondered if it could really be any worse than this. As it stood, her summer was likely to consist of nothing more exciting than a day trip to Margate, which was well past its sell by date in her book. She had taken a big breath and resigned to her fate said, "OK. When do I start?"
Four weeks later Molly was wondering how she could have underestimated the Allens so much. Apart from being a childless couple in their mid-sixties with more than a touch of grey in their hair, they were neither quiet nor retiring, having frequent visitors and at least one dinner party a week. Thankfully, fancy cooking was not part of Molly's remit as her culinary skills were limited to the odd bacon sandwich or beans on toast. The Allens always employed caterers for their evening soirees complete with smartly uniformed waiters and waitresses who swanned in and out of the kitchen with great efficiency holding silver serving plates aloft to receive freshly cooked delicacies from hired chefs. Molly had only one part to play in the proceedings; doing the washing up.
The water in the sink was growing colder and scum had formed. The main courses and desserts had been served upstairs over an hour ago and the guests had moved onto coffee but the pile of plates, serving dishes, pots and pans still seemed to be growing. Molly pulled out the plug intending to use some fresh hot water and stood up stretching her back. It ached from leaning over the sink. She sighed and cursed under her breath, "Fuck me, this is boring."
"You're right there."
A slim, blonde-haired girl of about her own age was standing in the open kitchen doorway watching her through narrowed cat-like eyes, her head tilted on one side. Her black skirt appeared to be just a little bit tighter than anyone else's showing off her model-like figure. A waft of cigarette smoke blew in Molly's direction and she could see that the girl had a cigarette in the hand she was holding just a fraction outside the door. They weren't supposed to smoke whilst working but this girl didn't seem to care. She gestured to the cigarette, "Would you like one?"
Molly shook her head. "No, thanks."
"How long have you been working here?" the girl asked.
"About four weeks. I haven't seen you here before. I mean, not on the dinner party nights," Molly replied.
The girl shrugged. "No, I don't usually do the house party stuff, but Laura was sick, so they asked me to cover."
"What do you normally do, then?" Molly asked.
"Big functions. You know, dinner and dances, cocktail parties, business lunches, that sort of thing. It's more fun than this. I don't you how you put up with it. Do they pay well?"
Molly pulled a face. The money wasn't particularly good. Mike's description of pocket money summed it up. It wouldn't stretch much further than the odd night at the cinema or a few magazines and a bar of chocolate. She had her own room way up on the top floor of the five storey town house which was comfortable but not particularly special and she had plenty to eat but her working day could stretch from seven in the morning until after midnight on days like this and much of it was pretty dreary. The Allens were not unkind. Mrs Allen was very fashion conscious and spent a lot of time shopping, lunching with friends or taking the waters and treatments at the Thermae Spa. She had once taken Molly for a dip in the roof top pool there which had been interesting although not very exciting as the emphasis was upon relaxation rather than exercise. After wallowing in the warm water for about twenty minutes, Molly had been thoroughly bored from the lack of activity and the absence of any male talent or indeed any male below the age of fifty. Mrs Allen, however, was thoroughly engaged in conversation with her friends and not the least bit bothered about how long they stayed as it appeared to be simply part of her regular round of social engagements. Mr Allen preferred his social life to be conducted from his own living room hence the frequent visitors and dinner parties. He humoured his wife and encouraged her to go out as much as she wished preferring to put his feet up during the day and reserve his energies for the evening which usually consisted of food, conversation, a few drams of whisky and late night poker games.
Molly thought about the past four weeks and looking at the girl said honestly, "They don't pay much."
The girl looked her up and down. "You know you ought to sign up with Prestige and do some big functions. They're always looking for staff and you could earn yourself some extra money. It's a lot more fun."
Molly looked unsure. "I don't know. I'm supposed to do this until September."
"Well, you get evenings or days off don't you? Why don't you do a bit extra work when you're free?" the girl insisted. "Look, give Andy in the Prestige office a ring tomorrow and tell them you were speaking to me." She threw her cigarette outside the door and reaching one elegant long leg in its direction stubbed it out with her toe. Turning back to Molly she added, "By the way, I'm Izzy, Izzy Thorpe."
x-x-x-x
The Assembly Rooms were packed with elegantly dressed guests. A string quartet in The Great Octagon was playing a selection of eighteenth century classics and drinks were being offered to new arrivals. Molly stood just inside the entrance to the Ballroom holding a tray of drinks and repeating the same question over and over, "Would you like a glass of champagne Sir?" Her arms ached, her feet hurt in shoes that were just a bit too tight and she felt awkward and out of place.
The fact that she was standing here now was all a matter of chance. A couple of days after the dinner party it had been her afternoon off and she was doing her usual round of window shopping following a route along Union Street, past the Roman Baths, under the arches towards the Pump rooms and Bath Abbey, through the winding narrow alleyways with their tiny cramped shops and then turning left up Milsom Street and back in the direction of the grand houses further up the hill in The Circus and Royal Crescent. The Allens were renting such a house and from her bedroom at the top in its elevated position she could see the whole of Bath laid out before her, the river Avon winding its way through the city and the hills to the south stretching out towards Somerset and Wiltshire. Despite the fact that the city was heaving with tourists in summer Molly liked the atmosphere: the traders selling their wares, the street artists with sketches of local scenes and performers singing, doing comic routines and generally entertaining the crowds. The City was buzzing and alive and although she couldn't help thinking that the job had sadly matched her initial expectations, the city at least had surpassed them and on balance she didn't feel entirely sorry to be here. All she wanted was a little more excitement in her life.
As she emerged onto the main street from one of the little alleyways she spotted a sign stating 'Prestige Appointments' in the shop front opposite and realised it was the same 'Prestige' agency that Izzy had mentioned. Curiosity got the better of her and dodging the traffic she crossed the road and peered through the window just at the moment that someone inside, talking to a man seated at a desk, happened to turn her head and look in Molly's direction. With a start Molly realised that it was Izzy. The girl recognised her, smiled and waved furiously at her indicating that she should come in. Feeling too embarrassed to walk away, Molly pushed the door open and entered.
"What a coincidence," Izzy cried before Molly had taken more than a couple of steps inside the office. "So, are you going sign up then, because Andy's desperate for staff for tomorrow night, aren't you?" She gazed back at the bearded young man behind the desk, whose crumpled shirt, loosened tie now hanging at an angle to the collar and slightly harassed expression suggested he was not having a good day. Izzy flashed him a dazzling smile. He frowned in Molly's direction.
"Have you had any catering experience, large functions or silver-service?"
Molly paused to consider a reply to this but before she could say anything Izzy jumped in and answered on her behalf, "Of course she has. I met her at the Allen's dinner party the other night."
This news seemed to satisfy Andy. "Alright. Fill this out and we can get you on the system. Can you work tomorrow night?" He handed her an application form and a pen and gestured to an empty desk in the corner of the room. Molly, slightly bemused by the proceedings, wandered over to the desk, sat down and began to fill out the form assisted by Izzy who sat herself opposite and threw in suggestions every time Molly paused over a question on the form. Fifteen minutes later she returned it to Andy who gave it a cursory glance before saying, "OK, you'll need to be at The Assembly Rooms at five thirty tomorrow, can you manage that?"
It was a bit earlier than Molly had anticipated but she thought Mrs Allen would let her go out if she made up a suitable excuse such as a doctor's appointment. She nodded, "Yes, I think so."
"OK then. You'll need to wear a black skirt, white shirt and black shoes. Got that?"
Molly nodded and Izzy grinned at her, "It'll be fun, wait and see." She ushered Molly out of the office and as they shut the door behind them, Molly turned to her and said feeling slightly panicked, "I aint got a black skirt or a white shirt. I never wear skirts."
Izzy shrugged, "Well I've got loads. Come back to my place and I'll find you something."
It had been a good ten minute walk from the City Centre to Izzy's place in Oldfield Park. When they finally turned off the main road into a side street and Izzy opened the gate and went up a path to the front door of a large terraced house Molly said, "Is this your mum and dad's house?"
Izzy laughed, "No, it's rented. I'm sharing it with Jack and some of his friends from Uni."
"Who's Jack?"
"Oh," Izzy waved her hand dismissively, "just my brother. Don't mind him. He goes on a bit but girls seem to like him." She pulled a face which suggested she couldn't understand why.
Once through the front door Molly could see it was the epitome of a student house or at least everything she had heard about them having never known any university students before. Belinda, Molly's mum, wasn't particularly tidy or house proud but it was nothing that a bit of elbow grease couldn't sort out in an hour or two. This house was something different. There had been little regard for cleaning, hoovering or washing-up for a very long time but Izzy seemed unconcerned. There was loud rock music playing from a room upstairs and Izzy shook her head, "That's Jimmy, he's got a strange taste in music." She nodded in the direction of the stairs, "Come on, my room's up here."
As they reached the landing one of the doors opened and the head of a short-cropped, spiky, blonde-haired young man with unusually pale blue eyes behind small round glasses, peered around it, "Oh, it's you," he said and then catching sight of Molly added, "But who's your friend?"
Izzy turned to Molly, "This, unfortunately, is Jack."
Jack Thorpe opened the door wide and with one hand resting on the edge leaned his weight against it, head slightly on one side as he took in the sight of Molly and said very casually, "How do you do?"
It was a simple enough question but the way he said it, eyes lowered and obviously trained upon her chest, his voice a silky imitation of something he'd heard at the movies and clearly intended to sound seductive, combined with his rather non-descript appearance in jeans and a tee-shirt that were neither fashionable nor indicative of individual style, made little impression on Molly. However, not wishing to be rude to Izzy's brother, she, smiled and replied, "Hello, I'm Molly."
He stepped forward offered a hand and she took it rather gingerly as he said, "I'm very pleased to meet you, Molly."
She wished she could say the same. His hand felt rather warm and sticky and he was trying too hard to make eye contact with her. She took her hand away as soon as she decently could and surreptitiously placed it behind her as she rubbed it on the back of her trousers.
"Izzy hasn't mentioned you before."
"No, we only met the other day," Molly replied.
"Well, I certainly hope we meet again." He was giving her a strange sidelong look that Molly found a little unnerving.
"Oh Jack, shut up with that crap and get back to your films," Izzy interrupted before turning to Molly and saying, "He's mad about strange, old black and white films which explains a lot."
Jack looked wounded and turning to Molly said, "Film-Noir."
She looked at him blankly.
"Crime and suspense thrillers from the 1940's and 50's?" he expained.
Molly nodded, remembering seeing a few old films on one of the satellite channels once as she was flicking through the myriad of channels on the set-top box and hearing her Nan, wax lyrical at the sight of them and her memories of sitting in the back row of the Roxy years ago with someone called Maurice who hadn't been Molly's Grandad.
"Oh, yes." Molly replied injecting a false note of understanding into her voice.
It was encouragement enough for Jack. "Perhaps, I could show you my collection or maybe we could catch a movie together, sometime. The Film Society's showing 'The Postman always Rings Twice' next week," Jack said quickly, adding as if it would be the clincher, "The 1946 Lana Turner version, of course."
There wasn't time for Molly to answer before Izzy said impatiently, "Leave her alone, Jack, we're busy."
He tried to pretend he wasn't bothered and shrugging said to Molly, "You don't know what you're missing."
Molly merely smiled and thought I think I do.
Izzy had loaned her a skirt and blouse from a fairly large collection. They weren't a particularly good fit given that Izzy, in excess of five feet eight inches tall and of slender, willowy build was at least four inches taller and quite a different shape to Molly. The skirt reached a fraction below her knees and was a bit tight across the thighs and the long-sleeved shirt had to be turned up at the cuffs and tucked into the skirt to avoid looking like a pyjama top. If lack of funds hadn't been such a problem, Molly would have gone out and bought herself something that fitted better but she was strapped for cash and beggars couldn't be choosers. To cap it all, Izzy gave her a pair of black pumps which although the right size were too narrow for Molly's wider feet and she felt sure they would pinch.
Two hours into the function at the Assembly rooms, Molly knew she had been right about the shoes. She was sure she would have blisters on her little toes and could already feel the stinging sensation from the friction of skin on the hard lining of the shoes as she walked back and forth. It was a very formal civic reception and the great and good of the city and local area had been invited to celebrate a host of local achievements culminating in some awards at the end of the evening.
With relief, Molly saw the last full glass of champagne lifted from her tray and lowering it she began to search for empty glasses which she had been told to collect and return before fetching another full tray. She moved as easily as she could in the packed room, weaving her way through the people around her. She was trying to move nearer to the bar when she met a group of four people coming the opposite way. There wasn't enough space for them to pass and she hastily took two steps backwards. As she did so she felt herself tread on someone's foot at exactly the same moment as she collided with them making the glasses on her tray rattle, clink and start to slide ominously in the direction of the floor.
"Oh, shit," she cried trying to straighten her arm and tip the glasses back towards her but she couldn't stand upright. She was caught somehow. A hand reached out to grasp the tray and lift it from her and looking upwards she found herself staring into the dark brown eyes of a tall, young man in uniform who was now holding the offending tray aloft.
"We seem to have become entangled."
He was well spoken and to Molly's ears he sounded amused. She glanced down and saw that a loose thread on her sleeve had got caught on the buckle of his leather belt.
"I suppose this is something of a military emergency," he remarked, "but I will have to defer to you for assistance on this occasion." He pointed towards his belt on which the thread was still ensnared and as he was holding the tray of empty glasses it fell to Molly to fiddle about loosening the thread from his buckle which she did with a slight tug, accompanied by a ripping sound which caused the glasses above her to rattle all the more as he moved. All the time she was conscious of standing rather too close to him and could feel his eyes cast down upon her until they were separated again.
"I do hope you haven't torn your blouse?" he said as he stepped back.
Molly could see that seam had come apart but she tried to pretend she hadn't noticed it, "No, it's fine."
He reached a long elegant finger towards the hole and pointed, "I think there is a small tear. I'd be very happy to get it repaired for you."
Molly felt a little flustered, "It's alright. It's not mine." She didn't know why she'd just blurted that out and she felt her face growing warm.
"I see," he said with a serious expression, "Well in that case it seems I owe a double apology. Perhaps I should take the blouse to the real owner and ask them what they think." Molly stared up at him, worried for a moment that he meant what he said and she'd have to go and find Izzy and explain in front of him how she'd damaged the borrowed blouse when she had intended to do a quick repair job when she got home and hope that Izzy didn't notice.
He smiled, seeing her confusion and she realised with relief that he was joking, "Relax. I don't think it would be a good idea for you to take if off and hand it over to me right here and now. If it's not an issue then we'll leave it as it is."
He suddenly remembered that he was still holding the tray and handed it back to her.
"Thanks." She took it from him and was about to turn away and go back to the bar for more champagne but she couldn't help asking, "Is your uniform alright?"
He glanced down, surprised by the question and inspected it. "I believe so."
"Are you in the army?" Molly asked adding quickly, "only there's quite a few uniforms in here and I wasn't sure which was which with all the different colours."
He smiled. "I imagine it's quite confusing, but you're right, I'm most definitely in the army."
"Why are you here, then?" Molly asked, "I mean, I thought this was something to do with the council."
He nodded, "It is but I'm representing my father, General James. He couldn't make it today and he's head of a veteran's organisation that does charity work here."
Molly's eyes almost popped out of her head, "Your father's a General!"
The man laughed, "Yes, but he's retired and I'm only a lowly Captain with a lot to live up to."
Molly gazed at him. He was nice. Well, she had to admit he was more than nice. He was friendly, good-humoured and not at all bad looking. She'd never been particularly interested in anything to do with the army but the uniform certainly did something for him and unlike a few of the other people in here, he wasn't ignoring her or looking down his nose at her. She'd noticed the odd stare from a few of the women and assumed it was something to do with her ill-fitting ensemble but this man, Captain James, didn't seem bothered. With a start, she realised she must be staring and neither of them was saying anything, however, she was snapped out of her thoughts by a voice hissing, "Molly, you need to fetch more glasses." She turned her head to see Izzy standing alongside her.
Captain James sensing it was time to move on nodded in their direction, "Excuse me ladies, I need to circulate." He turned away and strolled through the crowds in the direction of the ballroom, tall, broad-shouldered and seemingly at ease in his company.
Izzy gave a low whistle under her breath, "Sorry to break up the party but Pete at the bar sent me over. Where did you find that officer? He could circulate around me any time he liked."
Molly couldn't help giggling, "Yeah, I think I could put up with that too."
She returned to the bar and fetched more glasses and slowly worked her way around the room. She saw Captain James several times but on each occasion he was deep in conversation and didn't look in her direction. It was only at the end of the evening as the final guests were leaving and the caterers were in the process of clearing up that Molly happened upon Captain James again. He had just collected his cap and gloves from the cloakroom and was about to leave. He caught sight of her walking towards him and as she drew level he paused and said, "You know, I clean forgot earlier but I could have mended your blouse myself."
Molly stopped and looked up at him frowning, "What?"
"I'm a dab hand with a needle and thread, you know."
Molly laughed, "Really? Taught you that in the army did they?"
He smiled at her, "Oh, no," and leaning a little closer he lowered his voice. "Boy Scouts sewing badge. Be prepared and all that." He winked at her and laughing a little turned and walked away.
Molly watched him disappear into the dark night beyond and smiled to herself. In spite of her sore feet and aching arms, Izzy had been right; this was a lot more fun than working at the Allen's house.