Chapters (100)
- Half Title
- Also By Natalie Fergie
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Contents
- 2011
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- 1908
- Chapter 3
- 1910
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- 1921
- Chapter 31
- 1931
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- 1951
- Chapter 50
- 2011
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66
- Chapter 67
- Chapter 68
- Chapter 69
- Chapter 70
- Chapter 71
- Chapter 72
- Chapter 73
- Chapter 74
- Chapter 75
- Chapter 76
- Chapter 77
- 2021
- Chapter 78
- Chapter 79
- Chapter 80
- 2022
- Chapter 81
- Parkin
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- About Embla Books
‘I don’t think either one of us will win that battle. I asked him about it once when there was no one else in the office and he told me it meant he didn’t have to make a decision about something as straightforward as lunch, and he could think about more important things instead.’
Isobel glanced up at the clock, calculating the time needed for the work she hadn’t yet done and mentally reshuffling her tasks for the rest of the day.
‘Puddings?’
‘I sometimes make crumble if there’s fruit. Master Finlay’s little plum tree at the end of the garden gave us a small harvest last September, even though it’s only been planted since they moved here. He asked for a plum tree and Miss Ann asked for the cherry tree in the front garden.’ She pointed to the lower shelf in the open larder where crimson-filled glass jars were arranged in a line, labelled neatly. ‘Those are spiced plums. I added some from the greengrocer so there were enough. My aunt gave me the recipe for them. Sometimes I make Eve’s pudding, and there’s custard. Or I make rice pudding, or blancmange, or junket. And there were raspberries and blackcurrants in the garden last year so I made summer pudding a few times when the berries were ripe.’
‘And you have been with the family how long, Isobel?’
‘Since they moved here, after the house was built. Before that they were in a big tenement flat in Bruntsfield and there was another maid who didn’t come with them. She said it was too much for her.’
‘So that’s just over two years?’
‘More or less, miss. The late Mrs Black felt that a routine for the meals was important. But this house hasn’t really been run in the same way as the others in the street.’
‘Oh?’
Isobel looked down at her shoes. ‘Some of the other maids, we talk, you know. They tell me that the ladies in their houses are interested in the food and how it’s prepared, so they do it together. They try new things.’
‘And you’ve never done that?’
‘Mrs Black, sorry, the late—’
Ursula shook her head. ‘There is no need to correct yourself all the time, I understand what you mean.’