The rain came down in sideways curtains as Jenny walked down the deserted road. Mud splashed up her skirt with every step she took. Her worn down boots swished with water, her toes numb, wet and cold. She silently cursed herself for not having brought another pair of boots, or at least worn warmer socks. But here she was, wildly unprepared for her new life in Birmingham, but diving head first nonetheless.
In her defense, she had had little time to prepare and had been somewhat in the dark as to where her new residence would be when she left home.
She had started her journey only a week prior when she left her small village in northern Scotland. Her departure had been rushed and rather unceremonious. Her parents had long since passed away, and her brothers had set off to London day after their Aunt's passing. No one wished her good luck as she walked down the little street of her village. The unceremonious departing hadn't bothered her, she didn't mind being alone. What had, was that her aunt hadn't been there to see her finally take her advice and move to the city.
Aunt May's passing was what had started this adventure for her. Jenny's parents had passed away over a decade ago, and since then, Aunt May had watched over her and her brothers and the family farm. It was the only life Jenny had known. While her brothers were 10 and 12 when their parents died, Jenny had been only 8. She had some memories of them, of her father teaching her how to ride a horse, or her mother scolding her for stealing a bit of cake batter from the kitchen. But nothing beyond those little flashes. Aunt May made up for it though. A day didn't go by, it seemed, without their aunt telling a long winded story of her and their mother's childhood, or their parents had met. Jenny knew tales were probably a little exaggerated, but they nonetheless kept the memories of her parents alive.
For years, that had been enough for her. Aunt May became synonymous with home in her mind, and she had been content with that, much to her aunt's shagrine. May had always pushed Jenny to shoot for the stars. She would tell her the world was out there, all she needed to do was walk out the front door. But that was the hardest part. Scotland was the only world Jenny needed. She loved the countryside, it allowed her a comforting and sheltered freedom. Between her imagination and curiosity, it provided enough adventure for her. She spent her childhood running around their farm, through the foothills around the town, swimming in hidden waterholes in the summer, and building snow forts in the winter. There was never a desire to leave that security.
But life necessitated it. A few months after Jenny's eighteen birthday, May started a slow but steady decline in health, that they all knew she would never recover from. When it had become clear their aunt only had a few weeks left, Jenny had known May's passing would signal the end of her and her brother's childhoods. Danny, Jenny's eldest brother, had the house sold long before they left, selling most of the furniture and farm animals along with it. The sale was enough money to pay off the debt on the property. With no money left over, and certainly known left to them by their Aunt, the siblings decided May's death would be when they parted ways.
Aidan, Jenny's other brother, and Danny left for London the day after Aunt May's funeral. They had high hopes to start a business, but Jenny suspected their main motivation was the night life of the big city. She, on the other hand, had dragged her feet. It was more painful for her than her brother's to leave the childhood home. It wasn't until Aunt May's last few days that she was finally convinced to leave. Danny bought her a ticket to England as a last good will as a brother, but then she was on her own. With her little savings, she had then journeyed from one English town to the next, in search of employment.
It was not that there weren't any options, she had found several postings for maids, nannies, cleaning ladies, but none of that was what she wanted. She wanted to be a clerk or an accountant. Danny had always told her growing up that her ambition would be her worst enemy. The irony of course was that he was one the one who had taught her maths and counting principles no school would ever teach a girl of her age. She had loved every minute of it. As reading entertained some people to no end, numbers and calculations had always given her joy.
Yet now, she couldn't help but silently curse her pursuit. In each town and city she had stopped in during her week long odyssey, no one wanted to hire a woman as their accountant. Women couldn't be trusted, they were fickle and ditsy. After her what seemed like her hundredth rejection, she had decided to make her way to Birmingham. The city had a reputation for roughness, but also gainful employment. This was her last hope, a barkeep position. The only reason she was giving it a chance was the last line of the notice requesting someone who could help with the books. She knew the ad's writer probably had a man in mind when they wrote it, but she was out of options. In the morning she was fully prepared to walk into that bar and outright demand a job. Knowing what she did about Birmingham, there were a lot of crooks, drunks and thieves. Perhaps being a woman would be some sort of advantage. The unassuming innocence people associated with country girls like her often translated into underestimation or complete lack of respect. She was hoping for the former. While not perfect, underestimation meant she wasn't a risk to hire. Underestimation she could work with, lack of respect that was a different story. Respect, however small, was something.
That is, of course, if she didn't die of hypothermia first. As she walked through the sheets of rain, she could feel what little hope she had slip away. It was rough, that much was true. It was too late in the night for the normal pedestrian traffic, so what remained was the less savory leftovers. She had already been called out to and whistled at four times since getting off the train. Now, as the pubs and taverns began to close, she could feel the unwanted attention growing.
She gathered her thin, sodden skirts, she picked up her pace down the street, partially to avoid unwanted attention but mostly in an attempt to warm up her body. She silently prayed that the directions the young boy working at the train station had given her didn't lead her astray. He had seemed nice enough, quick to say yes Ma'am and no Ma'am when she asked questions about the nearest inn. Though he had seemed skeptical, looking her up and down as he told her the local options.
She knew why, of course, one look at her and anyone could see she was a farmer. Her undyed skirt and linen blouse, hair braided down her back, made her fit in with the other girls in the countryside, but made her stick out like a sore thumb in the city.
Buy a new frock tomorrow, she silently thought to herself, as, finally, she saw what was unmistakably an inn take shape before her. From the outside, the building looked rather unappealing and dreary. The rain dampened wood had seen better days, the windows hadn't been cleaned in at least a millennium, and the small hanging sign that said "Hotel Rose" swung rather sadly, at a crooked angle. The bleak facade didn't deter her, as she scrambled for the front doors, eager to get into the warmth.
The entry of the hotel was a slight improvement from its exterior, albeit mainly due to it being dry and sheltered. She would have been thankful for a tin shake at this point. Though it had clearly seen better days, the foyer was more than a shack. Before her lay a cramped entrance hallway. It was barely enough to fit two narrow shouldered men side by side without one scrapping up against the yellowed floral wallpaper. As soon as she stepped in the door, Jenny recognized the scent of moth balls and dust, the ladder of which was very much visible on most of the frames that hung on the walls. At the end of the hall was a small front desk to one side, a steep staircase to the other. Perhaps with a paint job and a good cleaning, it would have been homey, even welcoming. But now it seemed sad and forgotten.
Looking around, she noticed a mound of cigarettes in an ashtray on the desk, sitting next to a small service bell, and a huge, moth eaten guest book. Feeling out of place and a little scared, but eager to find a room and change out of her wet clothes, she walked down the hall and gave the bell a tap. In the silence, the tin ding resonated, setting her teeth on edge. Panic swelled up in her throat, had this all been a huge mistake, am I cut out for the city. Just as her panic reached a boiling point, she heard the muffled sound of socked feet padding down the hallway above her head. She looked up to see the smallest old woman she had ever encountered descend into view. As she shuffled down the stairs, she eyed Jenny in very obvious annoyance.
"What the devil are you ringing the bell for at this hour, I have clients and costumers you know, I don't been them bitching and moaning to me about their fucking night sleep cause of you girl."
Jenny couldn't help but stare. Of course, she was used to the trait of being foul mouthed growing up on the farm, she herself had a terrible affliction. Her aunt had always threatened Jenny with soap when she wasn't careful watching her language around her. But this was a tiny old woman, swearing and looking angrier than any farmer she had grown up with.
"Well, now that you've woken me up, what do you want? Don't waste my time." The woman said, angrily opening her guest book. "Want a room or not?"
"Yes- Yes, please ma'am, I want a room for a month." Jenny squeaked.
The old woman didn't even look up from the book. "I need first and last week's rent for the room, $5 total, and a name for your room." She held out her hand, waiting for the payment. Quickly, Jenny fished through her pockets for the small purse Aunty May had gifted her before she died. It contained the only money to her name. After counting it out, she put the majority of her worth in the wrinkled hand of the old woman, who immediately clamped her hand shut.
"Jenny" Jenny squeaked so shrilly she doubted the name was audible. The old woman didn't really seem to care, but scribbled unmistakably the words bitch who woke me up. But, before she could protest, the old woman slammed the book shut.
"Well then girly, since I am nice you get a top floor room, last door on the left, room 10, key is in the door. Bathroom is down the hall. Men use it too, so best you avoid them." And without another word she put the book under her arm and made her way back up the steep steps to the second landing.
The next morning, Jenny woke with a start. Her mind still foggy with sleep, it took her a second to remember where she was. After her journey yesterday, she had barely looked around the room before changing and slipping into the surprisingly comfortable bed. Even if she had wanted to stay up, she wouldn't have been able to do much. The only light source in the room was a small candle practical burned all the down and a lamp that was out of oil. Thinking it would be better not to wake the hotel owner again, she had struggled into bed with only the light of the small candle.
Now the light streamed in from a window on the far wall of her room. Her accommodations were small but neat, and certainly cleaner than the foyer of the hotel. A single bed stood opposite of the windowed wall and a dresser on the other. By the small candle, and despite her exhaustion the night before, she had taken a moment to put what little belongings she had into its top drawer. She had also placed on its top her only memento from home, a photograph of her brothers, Aunt May, and herself. Her Aunt had saved money for weeks to get the picture done, and couldn't wait to show everyone in town. Before she died, May had given it to Jenny with the hopes that she would take the best care of it. And she had. It had ridden in the inner pocket of her coat all the way from home, protected from the rain, to arrive safely to her new home. Or at least a temporary home. Jenny didn't have much of a plan past a month. If things went well today, she might have a job, but not much else. Finding a permanent home seemed less important than actually having a way to feed herself.
Climbing out of bed, she crossed over to the small mirror tacked to the wall above the dresser and peered into it. The face that stared back looked tired. Dark circles were printed under her green eyes and above sallow cheeks. She was a little taken aback from the sight and mentally noted that she needed to eat and sleep more. No one was going to hire a woman who looked like death. Sighing, she resigned herself to the reality of her appearance and hurried to get ready for the day.
It ended up being mid morning by the time she left her room and made her way down the treacherously steep stairs of the inn. At the bottom, the old woman sat at the desk, smoking a cigarette in one hand, and reading the morning paper with the other. She looked up as Jenny reached the bottom of the stairs.
"Hope you slept well, sweet heart," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I did actually, thank you very much ma'am," Jenny replied, matching the woman's tone. She responded only with a grunt.
"If you're hungry, go to the bakery around the corner, Ms. Hattie's. We've got a deal going, her and I. I direct my lovely consumers her way, and her the same." The woman said, stuffing out her cigarette in the already full ashtray and looking back at the paper.
"Tell her Ms. Martha Ann sent ya." Jenny nodded and continued down the hall toward the front door. As she opened it, Martha yelled to her "don't forget it or you'll be on my bad side for good missy."
Without acknowledging her, Jenny walked out into the brisk Birmingham morning.
Though still cloudy, the weather was far more pleasant than it had been the previous evening. The rain had given way to a cool, damp morning, with a chilled wind, but not entirely unpleasant temperature. Attempting to look as "local" as possible, Jenny walked with purpose down the street towards the bakery, as Martha Ann had instructed. With the daylight came a new atmosphere compared to when she arrived at the city. While the occasional drunk still stumbled by her, for the most part, the streets were populated by people going about their days. Children chasing each other, mother's pushing buggies to the local grocer, men with lunch pails on their way to work. It was all surprisingly welcoming compared to the night before. She knew that her ticket to fitting in was to act like a local and not a tourist. Walking with confidence and purpose always suggested familiarity, she told herself, straightening her shoulders and striding towards the bakery labeled "Ms. Hattie's Patisserie".
It was a rather small little shop, and a far cry from "patisserie" and closer to an average baker's shop. Jenny didn't mind, understanding that little stretches of the truth often got you farther in life. She especially didn't mind when the gorgeous smell of freshly baked bread and scones enveloped her as she walked inside.
Ten minutes later, she was walking down the street with a freshly baked, buttered roll in one hand, and a scone in the other, more content than she had felt since leaving home. Emboldened by the feeling, and the change in ethestic since the prior evening, she was more inclined to ask for directions from the locals. This was fortunate, for she quickly realized she had absolutely no idea where she was going, which made it hard to look like a local. The author of the job posting she had tuckered into her pocket seemed to assume that the name of the tavern was enough for the reader to know its location. Upon asking the first friendlier looking woman she could find, the name did seem to be familiar to her, but she, like many of the subsequent people Jenny asked, "couldn't help her find that particular bar".
It ended up taking her almost all morning to find someone who was willing to give her exact directions. The woman in question Jenny spotted leaving a large brick housing building. An automobile with a driver was apparently waiting for the woman, as she gave the driver a quick wave as she stepped onto the sidewalk. Jenny took her opportunity to ask when the woman paused to light herself a cigarette.
"Excuse me ma'am," Jenny called, crossing the street to the woman. "Ma'am would you mind providing me with some directions."
The woman looked up at Jenny, taking a drag from her newly lit cigarette. She looked Jenny up and down, very obviously assessing her as she approached.
"Where are you wanting to go, love?" she asked, tilting her head to the side to exhale a stream of smoke. She was older than Jenny had first thought. She was immaculately dressed in a simple black skirt and matching blouse. Beneath her hat, her dark brown hair curled to the padded shoulders of her suit jacket. She reminded Jenny of the women in fashion magazines she looked during a family trip to the city. The only thing that set her apart was her age. She was around the age of Aunt May, Jenny thought. She had smile wrinkles creasing her brown eyes and ruby stained lips. She must have been stunning in her youth. Even now there was some sort of wild beauty to her, especially in her dark eyes.
"I am looking for the Garrison," Jenny said, realizing she was staring, and quickly looking away. "Do you know where it is?"
The woman raised an eyebrow in surprise, and gave her another look up and down. Her eyes met Jenny's green ones, the corner of her mouth twitching into a slight smile.
"Yes, I know the Garrison. Why are you looking for it, I'm not sure it is your… cup of tea, sweetheart." she said, taking another drag of her cigarette.
"I am looking for a job Ma'am, they have a posting in the paper for someone to keep the books." The woman lifted her already raised eyebrow more.
"To keep the books? Hmmm, I thought they were looking for a barkeep." The woman smiled knowingly. Jenny could tell she was well aware of the Garrison and the posting. Panic rose through her, did this woman perhaps know the owners? She could put in a good word for her? she thought.
"Well yes, it's for a barkeep position, but they also wrote of needing someone for the accounts… I… I want to be a bookkeeper. I have my certificate from back home, and I don't mind being a barmaid too, I-"
"You mean barkeep," the woman interrupted, a smile stretching on her lips.
"Yes, barkeep, Ma'am. Whatever you want to call it, I know I would be good at it." At this point, Jenny was more than a little flustered and teetering into desperation. She looked at the woman dead in the eyes, trying to find confidence.
The woman simply started back. Her interest in Jenny's situation no doubt bolstered by her "confidence" that probably more resembled hysteria.
"I am sure you would be sweetheart," she finally said, flicking the butt of her cigarette into the street. "I know the Garrison and its barkeep, I will give you a ride there myself."
"A… ride? Ma'am please, just directions would be fine. I do not want to inconvenience you." Jenny spluttered, taken aback by her offer.
"Nonsense, I would be happy to. Us women got to look out for each other don't we." She winked at Jenny, and, without waiting for a reply, climbed into the automobile still waiting next to them.
Jenny was rooted to the spot, still in shock. Noticing she hadn't followed, the woman poked her head back out.
"Come on, I haven't got all day," she said, holding the door open for Jenny. Without giving herself time to overthink the situation, she climbed in behind the woman.
Jenny had never been in a car before, let alone one this extravagant. She ran her hands along its black leather seats, and looked up at the satin cushioned roof. The woman beside her leaned forward to the driver.
"To the Garrison before home, thank you Richard." Leaning back, she turned her attention back to Jenny.
"What's your name sweet heart?" She asked. She smiled at her, but not in a friendly way but more as a sort of smirk. It wasn't threatening or very haughty, but just not the smile of a loving grandmother or caring teacher. It was more of a knowing sort of look, like she was well aware of everything around her. She oozed confidence and authority.
"Jenny ma'am." Jenny said, trying her best to mirror the woman's poise.
"Jenny, nice to meet you, I am Polly Gray."