A Loving Family Read Online Free Page A

and her smile was so beautiful that Stella’s eyes filled with tears. She has the face of an angel, she thought, sniffing and wiping her nose on her sleeve.
    â€˜Stella Barry, where are your manners?’ Cook demanded angrily.
    Lady Langhorne produced a scented handkerchief trimmed with lace and pressed it into Stella’s hand. ‘There’s no need to cry, my dear. I was just asking if you had far to go tomorrow.’
    Stella buried her face in the soft folds of the cotton lawn, but the lace tickled her nose and made her want to sneeze. ‘London, my lady.’
    â€˜My goodness, that’s a long way to walk. In which part of London does your family reside?’
    Stella was at a loss. She looked to Annie, who shook her head, and cast an agonised glance at Cook, hoping that she had put the rolling pin away. ‘I – I don’t understand, my lady.’
    â€˜Where does your ma live, you silly child,’ Cook said impatiently.
    â€˜She has a couple of rooms in the lighterman’s house on Broadway Wharf, Limehouse, my lady.’
    â€˜I’m not familiar with that part of London.’ Lady Langhorne smiled vaguely and moved towards the doorway. ‘I hope you girls enjoy your time with your mothers tomorrow.’ She ascended the stairs, leaving a hint of her expensive perfume in her wake.
    Cook tossed a pan in Annie’s direction and it caught her on the side of her head, making her howl with pain. ‘That’s for nothing. See what you get for something. Go to the meat larder and tell Tess and Edna that there’ll be trouble if I don’t have those birds prepared and ready for the oven in two minutes. They’ll be in there gossiping and giggling and wasting time because they think I can’t see what they’re doing. Well, I’ve got eyes in the back of my head and I know everything that goes on in this kitchen.’
    Rubbing her sore head Annie ran from the room and her small feet clattered on the flagstones as she headed for the meat larder at the far end of the corridor. Stella fled to the comparative safety of the scullery and climbed onto the wooden pallet in front of the stone sink, plunging her arms into the rapidly cooling water which already had a thin film of greasy scum floating on its surface. The only thing that kept her from bursting into tears of desperation was the fact that she would see her mother the next day. Ma would be overjoyed with the present of the cake. Stella could not remember the last time they had been able to afford such a luxury. Her younger brother and sister would make sure that not a crumb went to waste. She wondered if Freddie and Belinda had grown much in the past eleven months and twenty-nine days. She had been counting them off with tiny pencil marks on the wall in her corner of the attic bedroom she shared with Annie, Tess and Edna. She longed for the day to end so that she could curl up in her narrow truckle bed beneath the eaves and allow sleep to rescue her from the drudgery of domestic service. Tomorrow was going to be wonderful and she was determined to rise before dawn and set off on the thirteen-mile walk to Limehouse with a good heart. She had worked out the sums in her head: if she left Portgone Place at five o’clock next morning she might reach home by ten or eleven, depending on how fast she could cover the ground. She would have a few precious hours with her family before she had to set out on the return journey.
    She had walked for almost an hour in complete darkness, but it was Sunday and the roads and lanes were deserted. She had seen no one until long after daybreak when she came across people on their way to church, but by this time her legs were aching and her new boots had rubbed blisters on her heels. She was, she realised, still several miles from the outskirts of the city and she was tired and hungry. She sat down at the roadside and took out the bottle of water and a slice of bread