Trapped in 1895
Chapter 6

It was laundry day in the professor’s household. Once a month Mrs Cole stokes up the copper the night before, and when Cheryl came down for breakfast, the water was bubbling nicely and plenty of steam was coming from it.

“Going to have a bath, Mrs Cole?” she asked cheerily.

“Not blooming likely,” she retorted. “I’d be boiled like a lobster if I did. This is laundry day, look.”

She pointed to stacks of clothes. Bundles of unwashed underwear, stacks of folded linen and petticoats, and two curtains. Not to mention the piles of men’s work clothes.

“These don’t look like the professor’s clothes to me?”

“They’re not,” said Mrs Cole. “I take in a little extra, to save for my old age. Now that you’re here to give me a bit of help, I’ve taken in some more.”

“A bit of help!” exclaimed Cheryl. “I’ve done my homework. I know what a scullery maid does and other people’s laundry isn’t one of them.”

“Suppose I make it worth your while.”

“How,” said Cheryl, warily.

“Ten shillings.”

“Ten shillings and Friday afternoon off.”

“It’s a deal. Now get to work and stuff that linen in the copper.”

For the next couple of hours, Cheryl stood, perilously, on a stool pushing the clothes underwater with a long broom handle. She was surrounded in a cloud of steam and her face had turned red with sweat pouring from it. Her pinafore was soaking wet to the waist and everything underneath.

After half an hour of this, she hauled the wet clothes out of the tub and Mrs Cole would scrub them with soap and a scrubbing board, then back into the copper boiler. She would also have to carry huge buckets of water to fill up the copper again as well as renew the water in other tubs. She had to keep a close eye on the fire in case it died out and carry coal to keep it going. All the buckets were used to soak clothes in, so she had to carry the coal in her apron and the coal dust stuck to her damp skin till she almost turned black.

It was with some relief when Mrs Cole sang out, “You can go on the wringer now.”

The wringer was an awful implement used to squeeze excess water from the clothes. It comprises two strong rollers close together. The clothes were fed in then the handle was turned, feeding the wet clothes through. In this way, the water was wrung out of them, then they were hung up to dry. Care had to be taken, though, as Cheryl found out. Mrs Cole was wrenched from her job scrubbing clothes when she heard Cheryl’s cries for help. Her pinafore had got dragged into the rollers before Cheryl realised it. Now she was stuck against the rollers. Try as she might, she couldn’t reverse the roller.

“I’m going to have to cut your pinafore off.”

She sliced off the pinafore till she was standing in her corset and bloomers, then in the middle of all this Harry turned up.

“You’re not due for a couple of weeks, Harry,” said Mrs Cole, returning to scrub vigorously at a particularly gruesome pair of work pants.

“I’ve come to see Cheryl, Mrs Cole.”

“She’s standing next to you.”

“Oh,” he said, “I didn’t recognise you.”

Swollen, red, sweaty face with soot all over and wearing an equally soaked corset and bloomers covered in soot stood an unhappy Cheryl.

“Just because I’m not naked, in a bathtub, you don’t recognise me,” she retorted.

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I came to ask if you would like to have lunch with me.”

“Definitely, this Friday at noon,” she declared, daring Mrs Cole to forbid it but Mrs Cole kept her mouth shut.

“Oh good. I’ll meet you outside then,” he said, eager to get out of there.

The next morning, Cheryl proudly stood in front of the kitchen stove and watched it glow red. She had removed all the rust, blackened it, cleaned the flu and lit it. She felt quite proud of herself, although she was black from head to foot when a voice said, “Well done. That is a superb fire.”

She spun around to face the vicar.

“Oh god, I must be a sight.”

She tried to wipe the soot from her face, making it worse.

“Well, soot is not a beauty product but I know what lies beneath it. A beautiful young woman.”

Chery was flabbergasted. The vicar was making a pass at her and it was not entirely unwelcome.

“I just came to invite you to dinner tonight at the Black Stallion.”

“I’d love to, oh god, how I would love to,” she said, completely forgetting Mrs. Cole.

“Then I will collect you at seven.”

As the Vicar walked out, Mrs. Cole walked in.

“Hello, mother,” said the Vicar, as Mrs. Cole ignored him.

“What did he want?” she asked.

“Look at what I did,” said Cheryl, hoping to divert her. Mrs. Cole was impressed.

“So you learned something at Mrs. Benning, then.”

“Yes, I did,” she said smiling, “I’m going out to dinner tonight at seven.”

“A bit early to stop work. Who are you having dinner with?”

Cheryl paused and took a deep breath.

“The vicar.”

For an instant, Mrs Cole froze, then said, “I guess that will be nice for you.”

“Can’t you forgive him, Mrs. Cole?”

“You just concentrate on getting the stove going and leave my son to me.”

Cheryl stood at the scullery sink doing her best to wash herself from top to bottom when Harry walked in. She gave a squeal and grabbed a sheet to wrap herself in.

“You seem to make a habit of entering when I’m naked.”

“It’s ok. I’m used to it. I told you I have three sisters.”

Cheryl couldn’t see how that made it acceptable.

“What do you want?”

“I was wondering if you would like to come out walking this evening?”

“No thanks. I’m going to dinner.”

“Who with?” he said in a tone of irritation.

“The vicar.”

The look of jealousy amazed, and excited Cheryl.

“He’s very handsome, don’t you think?” said Cheryl.

Harry sputtered for a bit before he said, ”He’s a ladies’ man.”

He slammed the door on the way out.

By seven, Cheryl transformed herself with one of her dresses she bought in Petticoat Lane. The vicar arrived in a carriage and whisked Cheryl off to the Black Stallion. They sat and wined and dined till late in the night.

Cheryl had thoroughly enjoyed the evening so much she was even singing when she emptied the professor’s chamber pot. She was whistling happily to herself in the courtyard, wiping and rinsing the pot when Harry crept up on her, startling her so that she almost dropped the pot. This angered her.

“Do you know what would have happened if I broke that chamber pot? Mrs. Cole would have halved my wages, which would have made it nothing.”

“I’m really sorry,” said Harry and looked at her in a way which melted her heart.

“What do you want, Harry?”

“I want to invite you out to the theatre.”

My goodness, thought Cheryl, two dates in one week. Things were looking up.

“Where are you going to take me?” she asked.

“The Gaiety Theater, they’re showing The Geisha.”

“And where are we having dinner?”

Harry shuffled his feet and said, “I’m afraid I could only afford the tickets.”

“Oh never mind. I’m sure the show will be quite nice.”

“I’ll call for you at seven.”

At first Cheryl feared Harry would borrow his work cart for the trip and was going to put on an ordinary dress but decided that would be unfair to Harry, so put on her best dress. She was doing the finishing touches to her hair when Mrs Cole yelled out, “Harry’s here.”

Cheryl opened the front door and was startled to replace an extremely handsome Harry with a little rose ready to be pinned on her chest and a little pony trap.

“I rented it for the evening.”

She went over to it and stroked the horse’s nose.

“It’s gorgeous, Harry. Thank you.”

Harry helped Cheryl into the trap, climbed in, and drove off.

“I’ve never been to a play. Have you?” said Cheryl.

“I haven’t been to any play. I’ve never had the money.”

A theatre employee took the trap and Harry escorted Cheryl to the entrance.

“What’s that?” asked Cheryl.

On the notice board was the play:-

The Geisha Story of a Tea House.

“Harry, you surprised me. I didn’t think you liked this sort of thing,” said Cheryl.

“I’ve never seen one, but I hear they’re very popular.”

“I think I will like this,” said Cheryl, who thought she was in for a boring evening but she wasn’t. The musical was a romantic comedy about a British Sailor, far from home, in Japan and falls in love with a Geisha girl who was in love with a Japanese soldier. Many people get entangled in mistaken partnerships but everything is sorted out eventually, living happily ever after. Cheryl loved it.

“Thank you so much for the wonderful evening.”

The next morning, Cheryl stood at the sink scrubbing out the big soup making pot chatting merrily to Mrs. Cole.

“It was so romantic, Mrs. Cole.”

“Well, I don’t approve of those foreign plays. Give me a good English one, any day.”

“But the hero and heroine were English,” retorted Cheryl.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about. It was in that strange country, Japan, wasn’t” said Mrs. Cole, whose attention was drawn to the door.

“What are you doing here?”

The vicar had walked through the door.

“I’ve come to visit Miss. Brown, but I would like to talk to you.”

“I have nothing to say to you. I told you what would happen if you stayed with your father. I suppose he’s the reason you joined the church.”

“No, he was not.”

Mrs. Cole spun around, back to preparing vegetables.

“I made a promise never to see or speak to your father again and since you decided to stay with him, that promise extended to you. Now go.”

Cheryl touched the vicar’s arm.

“Let’s go outside.”

“You just have to give her time,” said Cheryl.

“’ello Vicar,” said Harry, coming out of the outhouse.

“Harry Coleman, you’re either jumping out of the outhouse scaring the daylights out of me or you bursting in on me, naked.”

The vicar raised an eyebrow.

“Accidentally, vicar. I assure you.” said Harry.

“I’ll be going now. Can we have dinner again, one night?”

“Sorry,” said Harry, “I’ll be taking her.”

“Harry Coleman,” said an exasperated Cheryl.

“It’s ok. I’ll talk to you later.”

As the vicar walked off, Harry asked Cheryl if she still wanted to go to lunch with him.

“Of course, I do.”

“I thought you might prefer the vicar’s company.”

Cheryl was in a happy quandary. She liked both men.

“I like the vicar, but I like you too.”

Harry cheered up and said,” I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow.”

Cheryl returned to her kitchen duties.

Harry took Cheryl to a little teahouse in the park. It was beautiful and a light snow had fallen that gave everything a clean look. The sky was blue and the air crisp. Little children were playing in the snow, making snowmen and throwing snowballs. Couples were skating on the frozen pond or strolling hand in hand along the paths. Harry and Cheryl were seated in the warm tea room and Cheryl was wearing the green dress Mrs Cole had not approved off. As the waitress brought the tea and scones, Cheryl noticed the look on Harry’s face.

“Oh no. You’re going to break up with me, aren’t you?”

“Break up. What do you mean break up?”

Cheryl paused, realising she had used a twenty-first century expression.

“I mean, you don’t want to see any more.”

“No... I mean yes. Oh let me explain. I have an uncle and aunt who live in Scotland, just over the border. They own a farm and have no children. Uncle has badly broken his leg and although he can walk it is doubtful if he will be able to work. They’re going to sell the farm and need to put it in order to get the best money. It will take about six months and I am the only one that can help, so I will be away for about six months. We have only been out together once so I can’t expect you not to go out again, but I would like to think I can see you again in six months and, perhaps, take up where we left off.”

Cheryl was quiet and disappointed. She thought this could have gone somewhere, although she did not know where.

“I’d like to go now,” she said in a quiet voice.

“Of course.”

Harry flagged down a Cab and helped Cheryl into it. They sat quietly till they reached the professor’s house.

“Are you angry with me, Cheryl?”

Cheryl looked into his eyes, tears running down her cheeks.

“No, silly boy. Who can be angry with Harry Coleman? It will be just like Vera Lyn’s song:- We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when, but we’ll meet again sometime, someday.”

She sang this in a quiet voice and Harry said, “Who is Vera Lynn?”

Cheryl laughed.

“Don’t really know. It wasn’t my time.”

Moving very close to Harry, she said, “Good bye, Harry Coleman. I think I fell in love with you.”

She gave him a long and passionate kiss then jumped out the cab and ran inside.