She enjoyed the crumble, and the crusty brown bread and butter that had arrived with it, unrequested, and examined her surroundings. A poster on the wall beside her declared: ‘Staff wanted. Lowest wages paid 15s a week of 54 hours. All meals and uniform provided.’ A second poster announced: ‘Census Meeting. Bring Your Friends.’ She poured herself a cup of tea and opened her bag to retrieve her diary and a pencil. The black covers were new-year stiff, and the weekly format was just big enough for her appointments. She turned to the address section at the back and started to write.

15 shillings x 52 weeks = 780 shillings

780 divided by 20 shillings to the pound = £39 a year

9 hours a day for 6 days = 54 hours

She frowned and checked her calculations. The truth began to slowly dawn on her that Isobel, who was up before six in the morning, and not in bed before ten at night, seven days a week, was working almost twice as many hours as the young women in the café, even after she took account of her half-day off.

Ursula shook her head and checked the figures for a third time. This surely couldn’t be right. But her arithmetic seemed to be correct. How much were they paying Isobel? She couldn’t remember exactly, but she was sure it wasn’t anything close to thirty-nine pounds a year. Of course, Isobel lived above the scullery so she didn’t pay rent, but even when Ursula factored this in, she was left with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach, one she knew would not go away until she had checked the ledgers at 25 Library Terrace and asked John about Isobel’s wages.

When she eventually left the café, the leaflet folded and stowed safely in her bag, she was so preoccupied with everything she had learned that she completely forgot to go to the theatre to enquire about tickets for The Great Lafayette.

Chapter 12

Early February 1911

‘Are you unwell?’ John asked Ursula when they were out for their usual Sunday morning walk. ‘You barely touched your meal yesterday evening. I don’t think you’ve eaten a proper dinner all week.’ Nothing got past him and it could be both a blessing and a curse.

‘I’m experiencing a prolonged episode of indigestion,’ she lied. ‘Some foods seem to make it worse. I’m going to speak to Isobel and see if we can change the meals a little.’

He frowned. ‘This is how Louise’s illness began. She lost her appetite. Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor?’

‘Definitely not. I expect it will pass in a few days.’ Ursula linked arms with John, not caring what anyone might think. ‘Could you remind me how much you pay Isobel? I couldn’t find the details in the household ledgers.’