‘We’d better get started,’ Mavis urged. ‘We’re expected to mop and polish the entrance hall, dining room and sitting room.’

‘Nobody told me about mopping and polishing hallways!’ Sybil protested.

Mavis gave a nervous little sigh, as she struggled to find the right words – she needed to convince Sybil of the importance of her moral duties.

‘Mebbe they forgot,’ she muttered apologetically. ‘I think it’s o … o … obligatory, you know, we have no choice in’t matter.’

Livid Sybil swung her slim legs over the edge of the bed. ‘For heaven’s sake!’ she cried crossly.

‘You’ll have to change your clothes: them’s too posh for cleaning,’ Mavis said, pointing at Sybil’s twinset and tweed skirt.

‘Have you got now’t else, like a pinnie or an overall?’

Appalled, Sybil gazed at her. ‘I’ve never worn a pinnie or an overall in my entire life!’ she cried.

‘I think my old overall might fit you,’ Mavis said, as she scrutinized Sybil’s body. ‘Better than getting your best stuff mucky.’

Five minutes later Mavis returned with a faded patched overall, which (after removing her ‘best’ clothes) Sybil put on.

‘And do up your hair,’ Mavis added. ‘You get right hot mopping yon surfaces.’

Hardly able to understand half of what Mavis was saying, Sybil angrily did as she was told, then followed Mavis downstairs, where she caught sight of herself in the hall mirror. Appalled at her reflection, a pale-faced woman in a threadbare overall with her long hair tied up in a tight knot on top of her head, Sybil literally stopped dead in her tracks.

‘God Almighty!’ she gasped. ‘I look like a rag woman.’

Mavis was right: mopping and polishing three floors, then dusting down the stairs and banisters, brought them both out in a sweat. While breathless Sybil laboured, Mavis (who suffered no shortness of breath) cheerily chatted away.

‘It’s a regular turn-around on all the chores; next week it’ll be fireplaces and coal buckets, then it’s window cleaning and washing, and then there’s the nursery rota.’

When Sybil paused in her mopping, she noticed she seemed to be creating pools of soapy water on the lino tiles, while Mavis swished quickly and efficiently without leaving a mess in her wake.

‘Isn’t the nursery the responsibility of the staff?’ Sybil enquired.

‘Aye, but there’s not enough of them to feed the babbies – sometimes there’s as many as ten little ’uns in there, and they all need feeding every four hours, night and day.’

Sybil’s heart sank. ‘Christ,’ she thought.

Working as a char lady was bad enough, but feeding babies around the clock was simply too much. She would have to have a word with the staff, she thought haughtily; the situation was simply intolerable!