The time flew as they hurried from one job to another. It was nearly eleven that night before the final clearing up had been done. It was then they had a party of their own in the servants’ hall. They had a wind-up gramophone and some records, and this was played after they had eaten their fill of the Christmas food. They danced to and sang the popular tunes of the day. Tomorrow was still a working day for them, so at midnight they began to bring the party to an end. The footman put on a record by Jenny’s favourite singer, Al Bowlly. He told them that it had only been recorded the month before, and he’d bought it last week. It was called ‘S’posin I Should Fall in Love with You’. It was a sentimental song and touched Jenny’s heart, as she listened to his lovely voice. It brought back such happy memories of their dancing lessons at Templeton. Her friends would all be enjoying a family Christmas now. For a moment sadness tried to overwhelm her, but she fought against it. She was doing well on her own, and mustn’t dwell on the past.

Jenny joined in the laughter as they washed their plates and glasses, feeling much more relaxed. It had been silly to get in a panic about meeting the family upstairs. No one would see her as anything but a lowly under housemaid. She was safe here.

7

They were even busier on New Year’s Eve, when they prepared the house for a lavish dinner party in the evening. Mrs Douglas didn’t scold as Edna, Jenny and the footman, Ron Stokes, ran up and down the servants’ stairs.

The family had a late breakfast at ten o’clock, which was a blessing, and by the time they’d finished eating, the fires were burning, floors cleaned, guest rooms prepared and everything was gleaming without a speck of dust to be seen.

Edna leant on the banister at the bottom of their stairs and mopped her brow, still grinning broadly. ‘We made it.’

Jenny was beginning to wonder if anything put her friend in a bad mood. No matter how hard the work, she seemed to sail through it with a smile on her lips and a joke or two.

The footman, Ron, slithered down the stairs. ‘Is that all you’ve got to do?’ he joked.

‘Just catching our breath. Look at poor old Jen, she’s gasping for air.’