don’t get things quite right for you, it’s the first time I’ve been a lady’s maid, you see.’ Elsie heaved Olivia’s case on to the bed and unlocked it. ‘Now, if you can tell me what you’ll be wanting to wear for afternoon tea, I can lay it out for you. And then I’ll take your dress for dinner down with me for a press and a freshen.’ Elsie looked at Olivia enquiringly.
Olivia pointed to her new pink dress with the Peter Pan collar and large white buttons placed in a row down the front of it. ‘That for now, and then the blue brocade for later.’
‘Right you are, m’um.’ Elsie nodded, unfolding the dresses carefully and laying them out on the bed. ‘I’m sure that blue’ll look beautiful with your complexion. Shall I hang the rest of your clothes in your wardrobe for you?’
‘You’re very kind, thank you, Elsie.’
Olivia sat uncomfortably on the tapestry-covered stool at the end of the bed as Elsie bustled around the room. She had hardly been aware of her staff in India; just accepted their position as servants. But she was unnerved by this girl, who was probably about the same age as herself, and English.
Her father had complained vigorously when they had arrived back at their old Surrey home about how difficult it was to find staff these days. There were far fewer girls going into service, he said, preferring to take jobs as secretaries in offices and in the new department stores that were opening up all over the country.
‘Girls don’t want to serve any more,’ he had muttered.
Although, from their visits to the country estates of her parents’ friends, Olivia had observed that female emancipation was far further ahead in the big cities.
‘Right, m’um, I’ll just be nipping downstairs to give your evening dress a press and then I’ll be back up after tea to draw you a bath and light a fire. Is there anything else I can get you?’
‘No thank you, Elsie,’ she smiled. ‘And by the way, please call me Olivia.’
‘Thank you, m’um – I mean, Miss Olivia,’ Elsie said and she scurried to the door and closed it behind her.
That evening, before dinner, Elsie proved to be a rather fine hairdresser. ‘Would you let me put it up for you, miss?’ she said, brushing Olivia’s thick golden waves. ‘I think it’ll suit you, make you look sophisticated, like Greta Garbo. I’ve practised on my sister before, so I know how to do it.’
Olivia sat on a stool in front of the mirror and nodded. ‘All right, Elsie, I trust you.’ After all, she thought to herself, she could always take it down.
‘I love doing hair, wanted to train proper-like, but the nearest salon’s fifteen miles away and I haven’t got no transport. There’s only one omnibus a day that leaves from the Gate Lodge at eleven o’clock. That’s no good for me now, is it?’ Elsie confided as her expert hands brushed and curled and pinned Olivia’s hair up into a sophisticated pile.
‘Would you not think of moving into the city?’ questioned Olivia.
Elsie looked horrified. ‘What! And leave my ma with all my brothers and sisters? She needs my help and the money I bring in. There.’ Elsie stepped back to admire her handiwork. ‘What do you think?’
‘Thank you, Elsie,’ Olivia smiled. ‘You’ve done it very well indeed.’
‘Don’t thank me, Miss Olivia, it was a privilege. Now, can I help you with your corset?’
‘You’re a darling, Elsie,’ Olivia said shyly. ‘To be frank about it, I’ve no idea how it goes on. I’ve never worn one in my life and I’m bound to get into an awful muddle with it.’
Elsie picked it up off the bed and studied it. ‘This is the new “wasp waist” corset,’ she said admiringly. ‘I seen them in Woman’s Weekly. It gives you a perfect hour-glass figure, so they say. Right, I think I knows how it goes on. We’ll do it together, Miss Olivia, don’t you worry,’ she comforted.
With the corset on and Olivia utterly convinced there was no room for
Olivia pointed to her new pink dress with the Peter Pan collar and large white buttons placed in a row down the front of it. ‘That for now, and then the blue brocade for later.’
‘Right you are, m’um.’ Elsie nodded, unfolding the dresses carefully and laying them out on the bed. ‘I’m sure that blue’ll look beautiful with your complexion. Shall I hang the rest of your clothes in your wardrobe for you?’
‘You’re very kind, thank you, Elsie.’
Olivia sat uncomfortably on the tapestry-covered stool at the end of the bed as Elsie bustled around the room. She had hardly been aware of her staff in India; just accepted their position as servants. But she was unnerved by this girl, who was probably about the same age as herself, and English.
Her father had complained vigorously when they had arrived back at their old Surrey home about how difficult it was to find staff these days. There were far fewer girls going into service, he said, preferring to take jobs as secretaries in offices and in the new department stores that were opening up all over the country.
‘Girls don’t want to serve any more,’ he had muttered.
Although, from their visits to the country estates of her parents’ friends, Olivia had observed that female emancipation was far further ahead in the big cities.
‘Right, m’um, I’ll just be nipping downstairs to give your evening dress a press and then I’ll be back up after tea to draw you a bath and light a fire. Is there anything else I can get you?’
‘No thank you, Elsie,’ she smiled. ‘And by the way, please call me Olivia.’
‘Thank you, m’um – I mean, Miss Olivia,’ Elsie said and she scurried to the door and closed it behind her.
That evening, before dinner, Elsie proved to be a rather fine hairdresser. ‘Would you let me put it up for you, miss?’ she said, brushing Olivia’s thick golden waves. ‘I think it’ll suit you, make you look sophisticated, like Greta Garbo. I’ve practised on my sister before, so I know how to do it.’
Olivia sat on a stool in front of the mirror and nodded. ‘All right, Elsie, I trust you.’ After all, she thought to herself, she could always take it down.
‘I love doing hair, wanted to train proper-like, but the nearest salon’s fifteen miles away and I haven’t got no transport. There’s only one omnibus a day that leaves from the Gate Lodge at eleven o’clock. That’s no good for me now, is it?’ Elsie confided as her expert hands brushed and curled and pinned Olivia’s hair up into a sophisticated pile.
‘Would you not think of moving into the city?’ questioned Olivia.
Elsie looked horrified. ‘What! And leave my ma with all my brothers and sisters? She needs my help and the money I bring in. There.’ Elsie stepped back to admire her handiwork. ‘What do you think?’
‘Thank you, Elsie,’ Olivia smiled. ‘You’ve done it very well indeed.’
‘Don’t thank me, Miss Olivia, it was a privilege. Now, can I help you with your corset?’
‘You’re a darling, Elsie,’ Olivia said shyly. ‘To be frank about it, I’ve no idea how it goes on. I’ve never worn one in my life and I’m bound to get into an awful muddle with it.’
Elsie picked it up off the bed and studied it. ‘This is the new “wasp waist” corset,’ she said admiringly. ‘I seen them in Woman’s Weekly. It gives you a perfect hour-glass figure, so they say. Right, I think I knows how it goes on. We’ll do it together, Miss Olivia, don’t you worry,’ she comforted.
With the corset on and Olivia utterly convinced there was no room for
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