to change the subject. âSo how was your day? Did you see Fred?â
âYes, I saw Fred â and he told me that heâd found Miss Penelope a horse to ride and he was sure she was a game one. More than Iâve learned from you!â
âHe shouldnât go gossiping,â I said â more sharply than Iâd intended. But hadnât I done just that, yesterday in the maidsâ sitting room?
âHeâs my sweetheart, Jess. He can say what he likes to me!â
I felt the reproof. But I canât to you, not now.
âSarah, Iââ
âYou donât talk to me like you did,â Sarah interrupted. âYou donât even sound like you. You sound ⦠like ⦠like an upper servant.â She made it sound like an insult.
I could hear snores from the bed by the window. Good. Ellen was fast asleep. One less person I could offend then.
âThatâs unkind of you, Sarah,â I said. âAnyway, Iâm not, not really.â I was neither one thing nor the other. It hadnât been my choice.
âI know, Iâm sorry, Jess.â
âWhatâs bothering you, Sarah?â I might not be able to see her face in the dark, but I knew Sarah too well for her to be able to hide how she felt from me.
âI canât quite explain, but ⦠I suppose I just didnât like the way Fred spoke about Miss Penelope. And Iâll tell you something else, Jess.â Sarah spoke as if it was an effort, as if sheâd rather not have to say what she was about to say. As if speaking her fears aloud would make them real. Though what fears she could have I couldnât imagine. But she had them all right; I could hear it in her voice. âHe called her Polly,â she said in a rush.
âHe must have made a mistake.â
âSo you think thatâs all it is?â I could hear how desperately she wanted to be reassured.
â âCourse, Sarah, what else could it be? Polly. Penelope. They donât even sound the same,â I said. I felt a bit confused. I didnât understand how it mattered. I propped myself up on an elbow and faced the dark outline I could see in the bed next to mine.
âWhat if itâs not a mistake? What if itâs ⦠what if he likes her?â Sarah sounded miserable. So that was what this was all about.
âBecause he couldnât remember her name? Now youâre being daft!â
âNo, because of what he said earlier. Oh, I donât know. Sheâs pretty, and she likes horses.â I heard a sob.
âSarah! Fredâs a stable hand and Miss Penelope is her ladyshipâs niece. What could there possibly be between them?â I couldnât believe my ears. None of what Sarah was saying made any sense.
Sarah gave another sob. It was too much for me. I hated it when anyone cried, especially if it was my best friend.
I got out of bed and tiptoed over to Sarahâs. The floor was icy. A fire was only lit in our bedroom if one of us was sick. I hopped from foot to foot. âCan I get in?â I said. Sarah sniffed. I took that as a yes and slipped in beside her.
âYour toes are cold,â she said. I drew them up under my nightgown. Sarah was still sniffing.
âWhereâs your hanky?â I said. I felt like her mother.
âI donât know,â Sarah said.
âHave mine then.â I held it out to her. Sarah could never find her handkerchief. Her fingers took it from me.
âThanks, Jess,â she said, wiping her eyes.
âSarah,â I said. âMiss Penelope is lonely here, sheâs far away from her family, she likes horses and she chatted to one of the boys who looks after them. And thatâs all. What more could there possibly be between his lordshipâs niece and a stable hand?â How many times did I have to say it?
âNothing â but you canât help your feelings, can you?â
âIâm sure youâre
Hilary Storm, Kathy Coopmans
Alicia Danielle Voss-Guillén