Service Corp
- 3 years ago
- 28
- 0
At Your Service, Ma'Am!Chapter 5 free porn video
Once news of the tragedy had circulated, the prevailing atmosphere in and around Wilburly Hall could best be described as sombre. Freddie Atherton’s family were mostly located in the north-western area of England and I found myself charged with the responsibility of informing them of the accident. I recalled a conversation that I had recently had with Sir Walter:
“You know Freddie always looked down on my family for some reason Thomas. You’d think from the way that he talked about his own people that they were royalty or something, but I had them looked into before Davina was married and they were originally just nineteenth-century minor industrialists who got rich from government contacts during the Great War, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they profited greatly from the last one as well! Anyway, they have ambition and enough money to send their sons to public schools and the best universities and as money talks, Thomas, that’s how Freddie ended up in that job in the City. Oh, he was a bright lad, but nothing like as clever as he thought he was—more show and swagger than substance! But then that describes a lot of those chaps.”
I found Sir Walter’s summation to be an accurate one during my own dealings with the Atherton’s, and from the beginning they gave the impression that they wanted to take over and run the impending funerals like a major social event. They seemed to think that it was important that Davina and her husband should be interred together in the Atherton family’s Gothic monster of a mausoleum near their home, but I had to state authoritatively that she was coming home to be laid to rest with her own forebears.
We did manage to avoid another protracted argument over the disposal of Freddie and Davina’s estates, however. There was less of a case to made on this subject, as the couple’s London home and it’s contents would almost certainly now revert back to Freddie’s family who had paid for most of it. Had Davina survived her husband it might have been a different matter, but as both were deceased, Sir Walter and Lady Maude wished only to claim their daughter’s personal property; a point which the Atherton’s readily conceded. I was therefore also tasked to travel down to London and I had once again been given the authority to act on the Erskine-Taylor’s behalf.
Meanwhile Sir Walter and Lady Maude were left with the responsibility of organising their youngest child’s funeral. Unlike the Atherton’s, however, they wished to keep this a relatively simple and private ceremony.
Prior to her marriage at the age twenty-one, Davina had spent her early childhood at Wilburly and attended the local village school until she was old enough for her all-girl boarding school, which she initially hated until she reached that age when friendships became more important to her. She did reasonably well at school and she was bright enough to be admitted to Oxford University on merit, but she claimed that she lacked the necessary dedication and ambition to study and instead went to work for her father’s company, in an admittedly low-level position, until she met her future husband who as has been stated, was a former school friend of her brother, Roderick.
She couldn’t be said to have more than a tenuous connection with the area that she had been brought up in, but she was generally affable and at least on speaking terms with the remaining Hall staff and their families, together with the tradespeople of the village who served the Hall and to whose shops she visited quite frequently when at her parents’ home. It was rather the sense of loyalty that the local community held for her family that filled the small parish church on the day of her interment. Also present were a few of Davina’s oldest friends and those colleagues from her time working for her father, the Wilburly Hall employees, and of course there were her parents, her brother and his wife, Helen, together with their two small children and finally, myself.
After the service and Davina’s laying to rest in the small church’s crypt, the congregation of well-wishers dutifully paid their respects to Sir Walter and Lady Maude before once more going about their daily lives, while I returned to the Hall with Mary and the immediate family. Unlike his former friend and brother-in-law, I thought Roddy Erskine-Taylor to be a thoroughly nice chap. He had married a woman from a much humbler background than his own and now lived and worked in the Cotswolds, earning a reasonable income from his skills as a builder of new and bespoke furniture and the restoration of antiques; and as if that were not enough, being himself a talented musician, he had a sideline as a luthier: a maker and repairer of stringed instruments. Because of his present lifestyle choice, ever since Johnny had been killed in action there had been some doubt as to whether Roddy would wish to eventually inherit either Wilburly or his father’s business. Therefore despite the senior Erskine-Taylor’s dislike for their son-in-law, he was seen as being at least capable of advising Davina should she so choose to become more actively involved with both her father’s business and domestic affairs in future. However, that option was now closed as well.
Their home being only some thirty miles away, Roddy and Helen Erskine-Taylor declined the offer to stay the night at Wilburly Hall and departed as soon as was politely acceptable. Roddy was not exactly estranged from his family, but he no longer felt that he had much in common with them except a shared history, and that history had begun to diverge some time ago. This left Mary and myself as the only others left in the drawing room with our employers. It was a rather peculiar situation I felt: Lady Maude and Mary were my lovers, a fact unknown to each other and Sir Walter, whose daughter had also been my lover, which was known to Lady Maude but not the others; I was therefore the common denominator, as only I knew of the exact nature of all the relationships concerning the people in the room. At some point in the near future Mary will marry Andrew and my sexual relationship with her will end, while Lady Maude is probably waiting for the opportune moment to resume her relationship with me; not to mention my brief dalliance with Barbara Albertson. When I was flying those Mosquito’s over Germany and Norway, I was looking forward to living the quiet life in peacetime—how little I knew at the time how complicated that peace could actually be!
Later that night Mary wiped my spend off of her body before settling down into my embrace, her soft breasts pressed against me as she laid her head on my shoulder.
“Andrew has been very patient Tommy, but now that Davina has been laid to rest I can go ahead with my own plans. I’ve already talked to the minister and he is going to read the banns for the first time this Sunday and then on the following two Sundays, after which we are free to wed, so I have asked him to marry us on the Saturday after that. I suppose out of fairness to Andrew we should really stop doing this Tom, but to be honest with you, I’m not sure that I can or even that I really want to! I just bloody well hope that my Andrew has got a big one and that he learns how to use it half as well as you do!” We both chuckled, kissed, then tried to get some sleep.
Life settled down again quite quickly after the funeral. Mary did marry Andrew and despite some reluctance on her part, we stayed as friends but not as lovers, as she took her marriage vows very seriously. She came to an arrangement with Lady Maude that she would work less hours and of course no longer live in at the Hall. Breakfast became a simpler meal for us all and was largely handled by Lady Maude and myself. Sir Walter was out of the house from Monday to Friday and so lunches were also usually much simpler affairs: the exception being if Lady Maude hosted get-togethers at the Hall, in which case Mary would help out on an ad hoc basis. Our cook also agreed that she would continue to work in the afternoon during the week preparing the evening meal, although not weekends, until another cook could be engaged.
In fact Lady Maude confessed to me that she enjoyed now having more domestic responsibility, as it gave her something to do and it took her mind off of her daughter’s passing. I, in turn, decided to repeat to her what the pathologist had told me: that Davina would never have children unless she took someone else’s in; an idea she thought unlikely. Lady Maude concluded that she thought that it was also now time to reassess hers and Sir Walter’s lifestyle—not necessarily her relationship with me, which she still enjoyed, but the fact that the war had had such a significant effect on the lifestyle that she had, up until its onset, largely taken for granted. She saw the need for radical change, which had already begun: first with the reduction in household staff and latterly with the departure of Mary.
As well as this there was the long-term future to consider: was the Hall itself becoming a liability with all of the attic and now all but two of the bedrooms standing empty for most of the time? There was also a kitchen large enough to feed a small army and a second drawing room that mainly only gathered dust. Yes, Lady Maude could see some major changes happening in the future; and in all probability, sooner rather than later.
My personal life had also settled down; or so I thought until the day I received a letter from my mother.
I had not been home since my move to England, but I corresponded regularly, at least once a month, with my family in Perthshire. Her news to me was usually of a fairly commonplace variety, such as the health of herself and my father and who has been born, married, or died in our small rural community, etc., but this letter contained news that she thought concerned me. I will reproduce the section in question:
... I am becoming increasingly concerned about Lizzie [Elizabeth, the wife of my late brother William, or Will, as we called him]. She seems to be withdrawing further and further into herself, Son. I go round to see her most days and I am very worried about both the state of the cottage and the way that she neglects her health and appearance. I have tried to talk to her about it, but all she will say is: ‘What’s the point, Ma, wi’out ma man!’ I know that she really loved Will, Tommy, but it’s been seven, no, almost eight years since he died in France. I confess I’m at a loss, knowing what to do next, so can you give some thought to the problem. She may only be my daughter by marriage and now not even that, but we love her as if she was our own. I know that you are hundreds of miles away, Son, but maybe it would be possible for you to get some time to visit us.
God Bless, Son
I sat and read the letter several times over and resolved that it was time to go home. It was true what my mother said: Lizzie wasn’t really our responsibility any more, but that’s never been how we’ve done things. Lizzie was my brother’s wife and I had always had a fondness for her, so it was time to go back and face my responsibilities.
Sir Walter had a map of the British Isles and using that I calculated that it was between 420 and 430 miles by road and it would take probably eight or nine, maybe ten hours to drive there with breaks; that is, even if it was possible to obtain enough petrol, which was still subject to rationing. I had travelled by train when I had originally made the journey south, but with all the changes involved it was still a very long and tedious jaunt and also quite expensive. There were now civil aviation flights to Edinburgh as another option, but that would still leave thirty or so miles by road or train, although it was certainly quicker. If only I still had access to a Mosquito!
But, hang on, I thought—I still had lots of pals who stayed on in the RAF after the war, maybe, just maybe, I can call in a favour; there are probably still training flights that fly that sort of distance, perhaps I could hitch a lift on one of those; it wouldn’t hurt to try, but first I needed to talk to Sir Walter.
“—Of course you must go Thomas! I’m sure that I can spare you for three or four days, maybe even a week if you need it. How do you plan on getting there?”
“Well, Sir, I thought that I’d try my old RAF chums first. After that there are civil flights to Scotland, or there’s always the trains.” He thought about this for a few minutes, then:
“By all means try your old comrades, Thomas, but if you have no luck I can probably get you a seat on a commercial flight. We can likely even claim it as a business expense if we have to. You go ahead and set the wheels in motion, my boy, and keep me posted on how you get on.”
Tracking down all my contacts took a considerable time, and for most of that I thought that I was going to be out of luck, but then one of them came through and if I was prepared to travel at short notice, they could get me to within about twenty miles of Ladybank, Perthshire, my home. I informed Sir Walter of this and that in all probability I would need commercial means to get back again, but he assured me that I only had to let him know nearer the time. I thanked him and then wrote to my mother, telling her that she would see me again soon.
The anticipated call came two days later and hasty arrangements were made to get me to the pre-arranged destination. Fortunately I still had my RAF uniform which expedited my admission onto the military airfield, where there was a surprising amount of informality involved: there being, I was informed, a fairly steady stream of ex-servicemen who used the same means as I had to get around the country. My lift turned out to be a now quite elderly transport aircraft which was still in regular service, although I did get to take the second pilots seat instead of the cargo hold for the relatively short flight—a blessing, I can tell you! The pilot and I swapped stories of our time in bomber command, although he flew one of the heavy bombers and I even got to take the stick for a while, which brought back both happy and not so happy memories. Upon landing, several hours later, we said our farewells and before leaving the airbase I changed back into civvies for the final leg of my journey, for which I managed to cadge another lift from an airman going my way.
I had not been able to let my mother know exactly when I would be arriving, but I saw her face light up as I walked to the door of my parents’ home.
“Come in, Son, you must be tired after all that travelling! Your father is still at work, but he’s as keen to see you as I am. How long can you stay?”
“It’s good to see you as well, Ma! The travelling was no so bad, as I hitched a lift care of the Royal Air Force. My employer has been very understanding and generous and I have up to a week to visit and to see what can be done for Lizzie. Is there any change there, Ma?”
“No that much, Tommy, but at least no worse than she was when I wrote to you. And as much as I’m happy tae see you, why don’t you sit for a wee while and then go and see for y’self. If you can, get her to come back here so at least we can get some food inside her.”
“She’s that bad, Ma?”
“Well, she’s no quite skin an’ bone yet, Son, but she’s no the woman you left behind!”
“Then I shall be away there now. Will she let me in if I knock?”
“Her front door is probably no locked, but I have a key, just in case. Give your ma another hug before y’go, Son!”
Ladybank itself had only just over a thousand souls when I left, the coalmine and the maltings, where my father works, are the area’s main employers, but the old trades, such as linen weaving, were all but gone; which was my reason for wanting to get away, and as I said previously, those men and women who left because of the war had few incentives to return. My family had managed to avoid the coalmines before 1939, but what Will would have done if he’d returned I cannot say. I chose the RAF and was lucky enough to fly, but he joined the infantry, which is how he came to be at Dunkirk in 1941.
The small terraced houses were built for and still largely occupied by miners and other workers, but my parents and Lizzie lived just outside of the village in older, former agricultural workers cottages that were rented out by the current landowners. The rents were cheap, but they supplied their owners with an alternative means of income. Lizzie and Will’s cottage was about ten minutes walk from my parents, so I was soon standing in front of her door. I knocked softly, but receiving no answer I tried the door to see if it was open, which it was. Stepping inside I could see what my mother meant: it did not look like a place that somebody lived in, but rather where they just stored their belongings, which were strewn about in no particular semblance of order. I also suspected that it would have looked far worse if my mother hadn’t of taken a hand.
“Lizzie—Lizzie, are you there?” Receiving no answer I surmised that she was either abed or perhaps out back in the privy. Opting for the former, I climbed the narrow stairs to where the two bedrooms were located. Both doors were open and I could see my sister-in-law lying on the bed, dressed in what I took to be a long, sleeveless undergarment. The weather was fortunately warm, but there was still a stale, musty odour in the room and the faded curtains were drawn closed across the small window, but not quite enough to prevent light from entering the room. I walked towards the reclining figure.
“Lizzie, are you awake; are you well?”
She was facing the faded wallpaper, but when she heard my voice she turned to face me and smiled.
“Is that you Will? Have you come back to me at last?”
My heart could have burst into a thousand pieces that instant and I felt the hot tears on my cheeks. I sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hand.
Anastasia
- 06.08.2022
- 34
- 0
