"Beyond the Green Bay Tree" by Norman Kitching
Mary shuddered whenever she entered that scullery. The room was cold and dark. What little natural light there was came from a window above the two stone sinks. There was a couple of gas lights but these were lit very sparingly, only when the last drop of daylight had passed from the window. The sinks were deep and dank and Mary was small, even for girl of fourteen. She had to stand on a box to reach inside the sinks.
In the large house where she worked, this was Mary's world; two vast caverns and one small window. The sinks were never empty. To Mary it seemed there was an endless stream of pots and pans, colanders and containers waiting to be washed. One sink contained the hot water which Mary had to carry, in a large bucket, from the copper on the other side of the scullery. Mary filled the other sink with cold water from the pump in the corner. The regular struggle to fill the sinks left Mary's arms aching even before she started the task of washing up.
Hour after hour Mary bent over the sinks, scrubbing and scraping the never ending supply of dirty utensils. Long before the morning was out her back would be aching but the drudgery would go on, sometimes till late in the evening. The caustic soft soap, and the soda she had to mix with it, left Mary's hands chapped and bleeding. Cook did take pity on her and gave her mutton fat to rub into her hands at the end of the day, but it was only temporary relief.
"Get on with your work, my girl! If Cook catches you daydreaming you won't half be for it."
The shrill voice of one of the kitchen maids would often startle Mary and bring her back to reality. From time to time she stood up to stretch herself trying to bring some relief to her aching back. She lifted her head up and looked at the window above her. All she could see was the bay tree that someone had planted by the window. For her it was the only thing of beauty in these bleak surroundings.
She would gaze at the bay tree and dream about the world she knew lay beyond it. She made herself do this as often as she could, afraid that she might forget about that world. Or worse still, if she didn't think about it perhaps it would disappear forever. The vi "age where she used to live was out there somewhere. It had taken a" morning to walk here that first day. Her legs were already tired when she first stood on the box in front of the sinks.
"Mind you don't do anything to bring disgrace on the family," were her mother's parting words that awful day that she left home.
Mary hated saying goodbye to her mother but she knew it had to be. There were too many younger mouths to feed and only the pittance that her mother earned from taking in laundry. Her father had gone to somewhere called South Africa to fight for queen and country. He never came back. As Mary gazed at the green bay tree she thought about her family then once more bent down into her sinks.
Every day she watched Cook and the kitchen maids as they went about their tasks and did her best to learn from them. She vowed to work hard and make something of herself so that one day she could go back to that village beyond the green bay tree and help her family. With this dream in her heart she scrubbed and polished just that bit harder and took pride in her menial tasks.
Every time she dried her sore hands she slipped one of them into her pocket and felt the button that was in there. If there was nobody around she would take the button out, look at it and remember.
"That's not any old button," Jack said when he gave it to her. "That button came off the dress of a princess."
"Was she a beautiful princess?" she asked, hoping what the answer would be.
"Of course she was, silly. All princesses are beautiful," replied Jack, blushing and turning his eyes away. "But not as beautiful as you."
Jack was Mary's childhood sweetheart. It broke her heart to have to say goodbye to him, not knowing when she would see him again.
"Keep that button and think of me every time you look at it," Jack said. "Promise?"
Mary made the promise and kept it. She also made another one to herself. That one day, whenever it might be, she would see Jack again. And on that day she would give him back the button and claim his heart in return. But for now she just gazed at the button, pressed it to her lips then slipped it back into her pocket. Just for a moment the soreness in her hands and the ache in her back and feet disappeared. Even the pile of dishes in the sink didn't seem quite so daunting.
As the days and weeks passed Mary got used to her life. She was a cheerful, willing girl, determined to work hard and well. She knew that was what she had to do if she was to return to the world beyond the green bay tree. The work didn't get any easier. She hated it just as much but it gradually became more bearable. After a while she no longer felt quite so tired when her work was finished and enjoyed what free time she did have.
Her favourite pastime was reading and if she could get her hands on an illustrated magazine she was in seventh heaven. She loved the pictures of society ladies in their elegant gowns but best of all were the ones of the new King and his beautiful Queen, Alexandra. Having gazed at all the pictures she would devour every single word in the magazine.
Later, as she stood on her box in front of the sinks, Mary's hands scrubbed and scraped the pots and pans but her mind was elsewhere. Outside the window, beyond the green bay tree, was another world. A world of kings and queens, handsome princes and beautiful princesses. A world of dashing men in smart uniforms escorting elegant ladies to parties and balls. And Mary dreamed that one day she would be there, even at the edge of that world, with Jack and her mother and her family.
The other servants pulled her leg whenever they found her reading.
"Got your nose in a book again?" they'd say, laughing. "You'd better watch out, else you might fall right into the book one
day."
Mary couldn't imagine a nicer fate.
"Take no notice of them, my girl," Cook said. "There's worse things you could be doing with your time than reading. There's a new century started and you won't get far in it if you stay ignorant like some of this lot."
When Mary first arrived she regarded Cook with a mixture of awe and trepidation. She was a fearsome woman but Mary impressed her with her cheerful nature and the way she tackled her work.
"I've seen quite a few scullery maids come and go in this place," Cook said one day. "And most of 'em I was glad to see go, I don't mind telling you. But that Mary, she's a good 'un."
Coming from Cook, that was high praise indeed. Mary became less frightened of her and began to see a warmer side of Cook, a side few others had ever seen. Sometimes, at the end of the day, Mary sat and listened as Cook talked of the days when she was a scullery maid. Difficult though it was to believe, life seemed to have been even harder then.
One morning there was quite a stir in the servants' hall and Mary noticed that one of the kitchen maids was missing. After the servants had eaten their lunch the butler stood up and announced that the missing girl had 'committed an indiscretion' and had been dismissed.
"In other words, she's in the family way," Cook explained to Mary later. "And I'm a kitchen maid short. That'll mean extra work for you till I get a scullery maid to replace you. Think you're up to it?"
Mary was too overcome to speak. All she could do was nod her head vigorously.
"Good girl," said Cook, smiling. "Though I doubt I'll find another scullery maid as good as you."
That afternoon Mary tackled the washing up with something approaching joy. A hint of sunshine came through the window above her. She straightened up, felt for the button in her pocket then looked up at the window and smiled.
It was only a small step but Mary knew she was on her way, back to the world that lay beyond the green bay tree.
— The End —