The staff obviously had their dinner after serving the upstairs meal. I certainly won’t go hungry, Jenny thought as she saw the quality and quantity of the food they were enjoying.

The housekeeper then introduced her to everyone. She tried to force their names into her mind. There was the butler, Mr Green, the cook, Mrs Peters, the footman, Ron Stokes, the scullery maid, Milly, and of course Edna Jenks, the housemaid. She was so agitated at that moment that it would have been difficult to remember even her own name – her new name!

‘Sit yourself down,’ the cook said.

Although she’d already dined she hadn’t eaten much, and, as her plate was piled with succulent roast beef and the lightest Yorkshire pudding she’d ever seen, she realized just how hungry she was. There was laughter and friendly banter around the table, making her relax a little. This seemed like a happy household. However, she must remain alert. No one must guess at her background.

When they’d finished eating, Edna picked up Jenny’s suitcase. ‘Come on, I’ll show you where we sleep.’

It was right at the top of the house, under the eaves. The room was small with a sloping ceiling; there were two beds, a cupboard – and it was freezing cold. After the warmth of the kitchen it came as a shock. Edna didn’t seem to notice it, though. On one bed were her uniform and other garments, including underclothes. Quite a lot for four pounds, Jenny thought.

‘Pack your things in the cupboard and shove your case under the bed,’ Edna said.

When that was done they got ready for bed. It was so cold that Jenny gasped as she dived into the icy sheets.

Her roommate laughed. ‘Bloody perishing, ain’t it? You’ll soon get used to it.’

As she curled into a tight ball with her teeth chattering, Jenny wasn’t sure about that.

‘Cook will start making the Christmas puds and cakes soon. The house will be crammed to the ceiling then.’ Edna chatted happily. ‘All the family will be home, so I’d better warn you. Madam’s got three sons. John’s the eldest at twenty-four. He’s right snooty and won’t lower himself to talk to the likes of us. The next is Luke and he’s twenty. Watch him. He’s always after the girls and don’t care who they are. A servant is fair game to him. The youngest is Matthew. He’s eighteen and a real gent; always got a ready smile for everyone. Don’t be fooled, though; they might all have names from the Holy Book, but they ain’t no angels.’

‘What are Mr and Mrs Stannard like?’ Jenny asked.