The Housemaid's Daughter by Barbara Mutch

haven’t you? Quite pretty for a black girl.’
    I caught sight of my face in the mirror – round, smooth, not unattractive – yet Miss Rose’s words, unlike Mrs Pumile’s, carried no compliment. And it was clear she thought I should still be wearing an overall. Anything better would mean that Madam thought of me not as a servant but as a part of the family.
    There were soon several young farmers, and one older town councillor, who began to call for Miss Rose while she was at home. She went out dancing or taking rides in their motor cars to nearby farms. I often wondered what she did there, for Miss Rose had never shown an interest in animals or the veld. My mother and Mrs Pumile disapproved.
    ‘No shame for that trouble in Jo’burg,’ sniffed Mrs Pumile through the hedge, ‘and still no manners.’
    ‘Out every night, no time for Madam and Master.’ My mother shook her head.
    And it was true. Miss Rose spent very little time with her parents. It was almost as if she’d forgotten that she was their last remaining child. Forgotten that she had a duty to be a daughter, a daughter in a house that had lost a son.
    But Madam was hopeful, I could tell. She began to talk again in the evenings to Master.
    ‘She could make a fresh start,’ Madam would say. ‘She just needs a steadying influence.’
    ‘Rosemary will never settle here,’ Master would mutter and flap his paper in annoyance, ‘not when she’s seen the bright lights.’
    But Madam refused to be discouraged and would jump up and give us a Strauss waltz or some lively polka, listening all the while for the sound of Miss Rose’s return with her latest young man and any hopes of a suitable marriage.
    But no marriage came to pass. My mother said Miss Rose was too late, as all the good young men had been snapped up soon after the war. Mrs Pumile said Miss Rose had indeed received some offers – she wouldn’t say how she knew this, but maybe it was through her cousin who worked at the bank and had access to extra sugar, and also had very good ears. Anyhow, Miss Rose had refused them all, hoping for better prospects with the older councillor. But the councillor turned out to have a previous understanding with a well-known widow who’d inherited a large farm in the Tarkastad area.
    Madam and Master said nothing, but when the veld became crisp with frost in the mornings, they put Miss Rose back on to the train in one of her swirling dresses the colour of kaffirboom blossoms and waved her goodbye once more.
    ‘I’ll be up with you soon!’ called Madam, holding on to her hat as the smoke billowed round the engine and Miss Rose waved out of the train window.
    ‘Lovely,’ cried back Miss Rose, her head disappearing inside the carriage before the train had chuffed its way out of the station.

Chapter 14

    M ama died while she was cleaning the silver. The doctor said it was a weak heart, that she wouldn’t have lived longer anyway, even if the clinic had noticed that she had a weak heart. Madam was upset that Mama might have died because she was working too hard, but Master said she should not feel that way because I had already taken over most of Mama’s duties. But Madam still wept into her handkerchief and I guessed it was about losing someone she had known since she came from Ireland. Mama may not have realised it, but she was Madam’s longest friend.
    I have put the disappointment of Rosemary’s visit behind me.
    But now Miriam is gone …
    I could not – and still cannot – bring myself to write about Phil. Sometimes even Ada’s glorious playing overwhelms me and I need to contrive a visit downtown or an urgent task at the furthest extent of the garden.
    Miriam knew this, and many other things beside. She would say nothing, but was always there when I returned: faithful, practical, discreet. Such words to describe a life lived for others seem so paltry, so insufficient. Maybe her best legacy is simply Ada herself.
    * * *
    The doctor was the same one