Ellis Island by Kate Kerrigan

Author:Kate Kerrigan
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins US
Published: 2011-10-08T13:51:49+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sheila left service and moved into an apartment on Third Avenue that Alex had rented for her. It had a little scullery kitchen, a bedroom and a boxroom, and was on the top floor of a narrow brownstone. It was small, but it was Sheila’s palace and she wasted no time in spending the allowance Alex had given her on fripperies for it. Two days after she moved in, I made my first visit and found her sitting on the dusty tiled floor surrounded by packages and purchases.

“Look what I bought, Ellie—isn’t it adorable!” she said, handing me a blue glass cat, which by the tag I could see had cost her five dollars—half a week’s wages. I put the cat on a table by the window and the sun caught it, sending dainty sparkles across the wall. Sheila gasped. “See how pretty it is?” The sun went in and the cat instantly became plain again, but Sheila didn’t notice, just carried on unwrapping her treasures: an embroidered tablecloth; a pottery vase; a set of butter knives; a delicate teacup and saucer, made from china as thin as butterfly wings. “Did you ever see anything more precious? I thought I would get one before deciding to buy the whole set,” she cooed.

I was irritated by her showing off her new wealth. She had not even bothered to clean the apartment properly before filling it with showy trinkets. There was dust everywhere, and a squirt of anger shot through my veins as I imagined perhaps she thought I might clean it for her—being still a humble servant. Then I pushed my anger to one side and reminded myself that I was glad for my friend’s luck, and just worried for her that she was spending Alex’s money so easily and at such an early stage in their engagement.

Alex had struck me as a sensible man, who understood the restrictions of marrying beneath his station and was taking pragmatic steps in getting round any reservations his parents might have. He planned to introduce Sheila into his family slowly, while distancing her from her role as lady’s maid and inventing a new identity for her as lady about town. The less charitable part of me feared that if my friend showed herself to be the grasping, lazy girl I knew she was capable of being, the engagement might falter—and I didn’t want that for her. If, for any reason, the marriage didn’t go ahead, Sheila would have nothing and nobody to fall back on.

“Have you thought about getting another job, Sheila?”

Sheila let out a derisive laugh.

“You could do a typing course,” I continued. “A good typist can earn up to twenty dollars a week.”

“Why would I do that? In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a lady of leisure now.” And she waved the exquisite china teacup at me. It seemed that her intention was to make the transition from lady’s maid to rich lady overnight, by simply leaving her job to lounge about and look pretty full time.

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