and stifling a yawn. ‘Mrs Milton really has our noses to the grindstone.’
They both went towards the door – but when Sophie tried the handle, it wouldn’t budge.
‘Is it stuck? Here, let me try.’
But it wasn’t stuck. No matter how much either of them jiggled at the door handle, it would not open.
‘I think it’s locked,’ said Lil in astonishment.
‘This is Edith’s doing,’ said Sophie, with a slow groan of realisation. ‘She must have seen us come in here and then locked the door.’
‘But why would she do that?’
‘To get us both into trouble, of course,’ said Sophie. ‘To stop me from finishing my work, and make Mrs Milton angry, and to pay us back for that business in the refectory earlier.’
‘Oh I say!’ cried Lil indignantly.
Sophie felt her own temper flare. If she didn’t finish the tasks she had been set, she could say goodbye to any chance of becoming Mrs Milton’s assistant. And now Lil would be in trouble too, and none of this was in the least bit her fault!
But there was no sense in losing her head, she reminded herself. ‘Maybe one of the others will let us out. Let’s see if we can get their attention before anyone notices we’re missing.’
They rattled the door, and called out, but no one came.
‘They probably can’t hear us if they’re on the other side of the shop floor,’ said Sophie. ‘And I daresay Edith’s out there laughing at us right now.’
‘What a beast,’ said Lil crossly. ‘We are in a scrape.’ Then, in a sudden burst of cheerfulness: ‘I suppose at least you get a break from all that polishing, anyway.’
‘Oh bother her,’ said Sophie, folding her arms. ‘Well, I suppose if we’re stuck in here, we may as well do something useful. Let’s bring that ladder over and we can put all those boxes away. We can get the storeroom tidied, at any rate.’
Lil readily agreed, feeling that going up and down ladders and putting away boxes would certainly be no worse than clambering in and out of evening dresses. While they worked, they talked. Lil told Sophie about all the plays she had seen recently, including the plot of a most exciting thriller in which a dashing detective (‘So handsome! Simply divine!’) had managed to escape from a locked room and foil a dastardly gang of spies, and that of a heart-rending romance in which the young heroine experienced all sorts of trials before finally being reunited with her true love. They ended up sitting on the floor, talking about books that they had read, and laughing about their old governesses. Lil told Sophie all about her parents and how irritating it was that her older brother could do exactly what he wanted (‘just because he’s a boy !’); and how she didn’t think she would much like being a mannequin (‘Imagine all those beastly old ladies looking you up and down’), but she wanted to be independent and couldn’t get by on her meagre earnings as a chorus girl alone.
‘But what about you? How did you come to be working here?’ Lil asked Sophie at last.
Sophie was quiet for a moment, rubbing at a smudge of dust on her cheek. ‘My papa died just before Christmas,’ she explained slowly. ‘He was a major in the army and he was killed out in South Africa in an accident. There was only Papa and me, you see? My mama died when I was very small. I can hardly even remember her – at least, only little bits. And Papa used to tell me lots of stories about her, of course.’
She broke off for a moment and sighed, thinking that there was so much about her mother that she would probably now never know. ‘Anyway, there was a problem with Papa’s will. He hadn’t left any provision for me – no instructions about a guardian, no money. It was strange because, you see, he was always a very methodical sort of person. But it left me with almost nothing. The house was sold, they sent my governess away, and I had to find work at once – so I came to Sinclair’s.’
Sophie didn’t dare say more. Somehow, of everything, it was that last day at Orchard House, with the carpets up and dear old Miss Pennyfeather weeping uncontrollably as she got into the cab, that she could not risk thinking about; it was almost the worst memory of all. She gave a small shrug and fell silent.
Sophie might not have said much, but Lil had been able to see the emotions flickering across her new friend’s face as she talked: confusion, frustration, sadness. ‘Gosh,’ Lil murmured quietly, feeling suddenly very conscious of just how flimsy her own troubles sounded by comparison. She felt an unexpected surge of fondness for the family home in Twickenham, with its green lawns mowed to bowling-green smoothness, and Mother entertaining callers to tea in the drawing room. She opened her mouth to speak, wanting to say or do something to comfort Sophie, but all at once she felt unsure of her words.
In the silence that had fallen, they heard a rattling sound, and they both looked up. Then the door burst open and Violet almost fell through into the storeroom. ‘The – the door was locked,’ she said, confused.
Sophie jumped to her feet at once. ‘Quickly – before Mrs Milton sees you!’ she urged. Understanding at once, Lil grabbed the hat-boxes she had come for and darted swiftly past Violet, through the door and away, just as Edith’s high-pitched voice could be heard approaching.
‘I just don’t know where Sophie is I’m afraid, Mrs Milton. She didn’t finish that polishing and I haven’t seen her for ages. I suppose she’s wandered off somewhere. Some people think they’re too good to do a proper day’s work like the rest of us.’
‘Did you want me, Mrs Milton?’ called Sophie swiftly.
Mrs Milton came into the doorway and looked around approvingly. ‘Oh there you are, Sophie. I knew you couldn’t be far away. Well, well, and look at this! You’ve got the whole delivery tidied away and the storeroom looking perfect. You have worked hard!’
Sophie smiled and said nothing, but heaved an inward sigh of relief as she whisked past Edith’s angry face and out of the room.
A few hours later, Mr Sinclair’s walk around the store had been completed to everyone’s satisfaction, and the clock downstairs in the Entrance Hall was chiming six slow chimes. Sophie’s feet ached, her shoulders ached, and she was prickly all over with tiredness. And tomorrow she would have to come back here again to work another long day – and the next day, and the next day, and the day after that . . .
‘Well, girls, you’ve done a fine job,’ said Mrs Milton, looking flushed with pleasure. Mr Sinclair had been satisfied with the department and Mr Cooper had given her a few very rare words of praise. ‘Mr Cooper has given me a shilling extra for each of you because of all your hard work. Now off you go, and mind you are looking your very smartest and not a moment late in the morning.’
The girls were almost too tired to say goodnight to each other in the cloakroom as they pulled on their coats and hats, and hurried out towards home. Sophie dawdled for a moment, knowing that Edith and Minnie would also be going back to the lodging house, and not feeling at all eager to walk with them.
She thought, with a feeling of great satisfaction, of the extra shilling in her pocket. Not so long ago, a shilling had meant almost nothing to her, but now it spoke to her of all kinds of possibilities: a ribbon, perhaps, to trim her hat; or maybe she could save it and put it towards a new pair of gloves because her old ones were getting so very worn. At any rate, she could treat herself to some buns for tea, she thought.
As she went out on to the street, she caught sight of a rather dirty young man – scarcely more than a boy, really – sitting on a step by the staff entrance. His head was down, and she noticed that his arm was in a rough sort of sling. Vagrants weren’t supposed to hang around the store, but it was the end of the day, and he looked ill and exhausted – much more exhausted than she felt herself, she thought, with a stab of sympathy for him.
She considered the shilling in her pocket. In the past, she would have given a shilling to a poor young man like that without even thinking about