STATION HELPS

New Zealand Listener, Volume 22, Issue 551, 13 January 1950, Page 8

STATION HELPS

} Written for "The Listener" |

by

FRANCES

BLUNT

HE other evening I pried my husband out of his paper, and asked him if Thurber tried to be funny, or if he just wrote down the things as they happened. I got a doubtful sort of look and the answer that he knew he was being funny all right. So I tried to explain that I seemed to understand his books so well because the same sort of things were always happening to us. I got a very queer look indeed for that, so I shut down. But when I read over "A Sequence of Servants,’ I began remembering and remembering till I felt it was time I had a turn too. Not that we really had servants. I al-

ways wished we did. Other people did, in, those days. Other People’s wore black dresses and whis-

pered at meals. Ours * gave loud yells whén they wanted us. Once a friend and I were strolling past the kitchen door when there was a shriek and a breadboard came out spinning very fast on its side. It just missed Alice’s nose. What especially pleased us was that Alice seemed so genuinely sur~ prised. We had our dear Missie who stayed always, and nurses who left occasionally to be married. We accepted these as a sort of natural order, beyond particular amusement. Of course there was once Red-Linen-Jacket-Nursie, who stayed only a week and cried most of the time, and who always smacked the wrong one, but she was an exception. What we had for dramatic interest were a series of Married Couples, and the Men on the Station. The couple Mother said she liked the best were the ones who took hershorse and gig and. rug into the little town. They got muddled and went home the wrong way, arriving next day with the horse tottering and the rug gone. In the end they fought each other with carving knives and had to be taken to hospital. Missie said they must be given notice, but Mother was always sorry because they had such pleasant smiles. Perhaps I had better say again that all this is quite true as I remember it. And ‘if affyone should read it, they mustn’t mind, children being odd and inaccurate in their viewpoints. I was a nervous cowardly little girl, and sadly aware of it. I was terrified of the dark, and knew I’d die if I saw a ghost, and used to lie awake praying to God not to call me to be a missionary. But when someone at school whispered about Drunk Men, I was able: to burst out cheerfully, "Oh, you needn’t be afraid of Sain gg we see Them every day at home." Which was of course exaggera-' tion and boasting, and earned its judgment, for the other little girls drew back and talked: among themselves, and I learned that it was not the thing to have

drunk men at home. But we all knew, ourselves, because Mother said they were "only drunk, dear." When the share cook ate yeast and climbed inside the bread oven to ring for the doetor, and then came bursting into the drawingroom where we had visitors, roaring "I’m poisoned, I’m POISONED," Mother just stood up and said "Go away at once," and he did. He was coal black from the oven and only had his trousers on and .we enjoyed it very much. When he had gone Mother asked the doctor to come, and he was taken away. We had almost more fun when Mother wasn’t there for the scenes, because she never was excited like the others, except once when the new groom brought round her horse with the saddle on

_-back to front, It did look funny. Afterwards Mother. said sadly that she was afraid he wouldn’t

— et. Oe ee en ale had the children and the cook in the governess cart the horse bolted and the reins broke, the cook grew quite excited and threw one of my smaller sisters out on the grass at the side. In the end Mother got the horse stopped, and fixed the reins and went back, but the sister always felt it as rather a slur, and Mother said the silly woman had lost her head, We thought this meant much the same as when Flo dyed her hair to make it more yellow. Only it went bright green, like spring grass. It looked so pretty waving on top while she stirred the cakes. We thought Mother was rather hard’ on Mrs. Pegler too, Mrs. Pegler brought no husband, only Little Warren, so she had Paddy from the cookshop to help her with the wood and vegetables. Little Warren only knew how to make bows and arrows and how to clean knives; we’ soon grew tired of him, but Paddy gave us a lovely treat. One day he grew cross because there were too many boots and shoes to clean. He dariced and yelled and threw them right along the concrete yard to where they bounced off the chopping block. We rushed to see the glorious stream, boys’ and girls’, babies’ and grown-ups,’ the straps and laces flew in the wind, and they banged like anything on the block. We were always pleased to see Paddy after that, though he went back to the cookshop. Mrs. Pegler left because Mother went into the larder with her one day. I slid in behind, hoping to get my hand on something. All round the shelves, in front of the tins, were saucers and plates covered with little bits of food. Mother was surprised at this, and asked what they were for? Mrs. Pegler burst out really crying, and said she couldn’t bear to think of all those poor starving Russians, . So she and Little Warren went away, and we'‘really liked Mrs. Matthew much better because she gave us slices of suet pudding any time. When she left she. _

cried too, and said who would feed us now? We felt like Russians ourselves then. They must often have been very good to us. Once when Mbther was out for the day, a cowman went mad and began running round with an axe. This was the best time we had. Missie made us come inside, and she and Nursie pulled down the blinds. We were told to lie on the floor when he came round the house — calling out, but we wriggled, and peeped round the edges of the blinds. He chopped at the clothes’ props with the axe, and then he went away down to the cowshed. We had to stand up to see, but We could hear the shouts, and it all looked funny and small, like dolls’ house play. We saw the Manager, very red, walking along swishing a stockwhip. We saw him wave it at the man, and then drop it and take something out of his pocket. ‘Missie said this was a Pistol. He pointed it, and the man went to chop a cow, and suddenly another man jumped up and hit him flat. Then we couldn’t see him any more for all the men sitting on him. We felt this was a real adventure, only they didn’t believe us at school, so it wasn’t mutch good. Mother said that perhaps Missie should not have pulled down the ‘blinds, as it might have attracted his attention more. This was the only occasion where I remember Missie making a mistake. She must have been twenty-two or three at the time. Mother made a mistake herself when she sent us running to fetch a woolly cap for Jimmy Tye when they took him to hospital. It never came home, and neither did poor Jimmy. Wher he got there, they went to wash his back. And Jimmy said to them, "If you wash my back I will die." And die he did, that very night. Mother put the cap on his bald head as he lay in the back of the mailcar, and Jimmy kissed her, and called her "a dear brave girl," which we thought silly. Our father was the

brave one, away fighting Germans and Turks, and, as we told her, anyone couid see that Mother wasn’t a girl. Micky Dripping called Mother "Girl-dear" too, just as he did with us. He had beautiful manners, and always skimmed the flies off his. horehound beer before giving us a drink. We liked James Adolphus Griffin, who danced round the kitchen when the fly-papers stuck to his head, and we liked John-Henry who was put if prison, John-Henry used to buy a lot of coats when he went for his holiday. Then when he needed some money he would sell one. In the end he stole some of the coats before he sold them. My father said that John-Henry "became confused over problems of currency." ‘I -was older when we had Sam and Mrs, Sam. Sam was stout and tall and very red in the face, he used to shake a lot because he had shell-shock; he had shell-shock very much worse when he was drunk. I remember Mrs. Sam much more vaguely. During the hot weather they moved out of their- room into a tent in the back yard where the clothes line was; we were not allowed to go into it, and I can’t remember that we ever did. It was round the room that they moved out of that we had the fun. First there was a story that boxes and boxes of eggs and bottled fruit were

4eIt under the bed. This interested us degply. Next a man burst in to say that a lady was having a baby in his car at the top gate. Mother was away, and I grabbed the chance of helping with .the preparations in the room. I even swept — under the bed, but though there was a \ funny smell there were no particular \ boxes. I looked in the cupboards too.

They came in with the Lady’s Friend, and the Baby, and the Lady herself, flat on a mattress with Sam as one of the corner carriers. Sam was very red, and began to shake in an ominous way. The Lady’s Friend tried to give me the Baby to hold, but I wasn’t having any of that, so I was given Sam’s corner. I remember how my nails slipped and gritted and ' how I suddenly was sure that God would blast me with a bolt if I let the mattress go. Once they were safe inside I didn’t go in again because of ' the Baby, but I liked to listen by the door, They sounded just like , the fowls cheeping when they settle on their perches for | the night. Sometimes the Friend would come out without the Baby, then I could stay in the kitchen and study her. Once she taught me a useful thing. _ She was telling me some-

thing when she stopped and said "Pgrdon." I waited a bit, and after a time she said severely, "When someone says Pardon you should say Granted." Later we had Charlie for the groom, and for a long time after. A gentle, nervy little man who adored the horses, and was a good friend to everybody. He would lead out a great ramping sixteen hands grey, and give you the reins, saying "Now Miss, you'll promise to treat, him just like Dresden China won’t you now." He and the stallion used to talk to one another, and Charlie took him for a. walk every Sunday afternoon. Show Day was the Day for Charlie, he was usually unconscious by nightfall, but he had seen his darlings in their Prize Ribbons before that.. The last cook I remember before I grew up had scarlet fever; they took her away, and her husband\ was very sad. The Inspector came and told him to seal up their room with gummed paper, and a big pink candle had to be put inside. Then it was to be left, and we could watch through the window while the bugs died. When we helped him open it up we had to be very careful, but when we did go in it seemed much the same. Missie said > that the Inspector should have told him to light the candle. And there was one who stayed for ages, till after I was married. She was nice, except for her Tem-

pers. She made us the same _ puddin every Sunday for years and_ years. She called it Surprise Pudding. This was mostly before and during the First World War. Times have changed on the station, and it isn’t at all like that now. I don’t really know if it was like that then, but it seemed so. Anyway, we enjoyed ourselves.