Tamar Read online

  When Mr Ellis learned what had happened, he had a temporary lapse of his usual business prudence and mailed Mr Montgomery’s money back to him.

  Several days later, a large arrangement of exotic flowers arrived by messenger for Tamar. A note with it said:

  Dear Miss Deane

  Please accept my Sincerest Apologies for the way in which I behaved towards you. I am appalled by my actions. The Darkness which has fallen upon me in my hour of grief is obscuring all I see and do. Please consider these blooms a token of my deep Regret regarding the unseemly manner in which I conducted myself. I beg that my inexcusable behaviour has not poisoned your opinion of me.

  Yours Most Sincerely,

  Peter Montgomery

  Perplexed, Tamar placed the flowers in a bucket of water and folded the note carefully. She would show it to Myrna and ask her what she made of it.

  CHAPTER SIX

  As it happened, Tamar was unable to visit Myrna until the following week, on the eve of the move to the house in Dilworth Terrace. When Tamar arrived, she found the hall and parlour filled with trunks and boxes. The girls were running about excitedly, stuffing items into already overflowing cases. Cabbage darted about, his yapping adding to the confusion. Myrna, an island of calm, sat in an armchair smoking a cigarette amidst more boxes in the parlour. She looked up when Tamar came in.

  ‘Hello, lassie. Come to give us a hand?’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ said Tamar, perching herself on a trunk and absently holding out her hand for Cabbage to sniff. Since he had settled in, the dog had become very proprietorial and went to some lengths to investigate anyone he considered a stranger. As Tamar had only visited once before, in his opinion she fell into this category.

  ‘What’s left to do?’ she asked, looking around.

  ‘No’ a lot, really,’ replied Myrna, standing up. ‘Just the linen. Ye can help us wi’ that if ye like, then come for a ride to the new place. There’s one big load to take over tonight, but we’ll come back here to sleep and take what’s left tomorrow. Have ye met Sven yet?’ she asked.

  Tamar shook her head.

  ‘He’s a new immigrant I hired yesterday, Scandinavian or some such thing. Cannae speak a word o’ English. Sven!’ she yelled into the hall.

  Almost immediately a very tall, massively built man emerged from the kitchen.

  ‘Madam?’ he enquired in a deep, rumbling voice.

  ‘Well, he’s no’ completely wi’out English,’ amended Myrna. ‘Sven, this is ma good friend, Miss Tamar Deane.’

  Sven bowed his head and held out his hand to Tamar. Looking up she shook it and said, ‘It’s very nice to meet you, Sven.’

  ‘Sven’s going to be ma security manager, driver, and man about the house, aren’t ye, laddie?’

  The big man nodded and smiled, although it was obvious he hadn’t fully understood. He was not handsome, but his sheer size demanded attention. At least six foot four, he was well-muscled with a broad chest and bulging arms. His fair, close-cropped head looked oddly balanced on his massive neck, his pale eyes close together above a big, shapeless nose and wide mouth. His large ears stuck out and the lamplight from the hallway shone through them, making them glow pink. He looked menacing, but when he smiled, his countenance was transformed into gentle benevolence.

  ‘Can ye start loading these onto the cart?’ Myrna asked, pointing first at the trunks and boxes in the hall then outside towards the horse and wagonette on the street. Sven picked up the largest trunk, shouldered it effortlessly and manoeuvred it sideways through the front door and down the path.

  ‘I think he’ll be a verra handy laddie,’ Myrna said, looking after him. ‘Ye never know when ye might need someone wi’ muscles the size o’ his,’ she added, turning back to Tamar. ‘Anyway, lassie, ye’ve a look on your face like yon wee doggie when he thinks we havnae noticed him pinching a sausage. What’s on your mind?’

  Tamar handed Myrna Peter Montgomery’s note and told her about his visit to the shop after his wife and child had died.

  ‘I dinnae know the man,’ said Myrna after she read the note. ‘But o’ course he could well move in different circles. I’ll ask John.’

  ‘No, don’t do that,’ said Tamar quickly.

  Myrna looked at her shrewdly. ‘Och, it’s like that, is it? The man’s only just become a widower, lassie. He’ll still be in mourning.’

  ‘I don’t mean anything like that,’ lied Tamar guiltily. ‘I don’t want to hurt John’s feelings. But what do you think the note means?’

  ‘I think it means this Peter Montgomery is keeping his options open.’

  ‘Oh no,’ insisted Tamar vigorously. ‘He was distraught with grief. Heartbroken. I’m sure he didn’t know what he was saying.’

  ‘Well, if he was distraught, then God only knows what he meant by this,’ Myrna sniffed, handing the note back to Tamar. ‘Ye’ll have to wait and see.’

  Tamar stuffed the note into her bag and followed Myrna into the parlour where the girls were packing linen into cases.

  An hour later the wagonette was loaded up and they were ready to go. Sven drove with Jessica beside him and the others went with Myrna in her new landau, squashed together with the top down so they could enjoy the mild evening. By the time they reached Parnell, the sky was the colour of Indian ink and a full, yellow moon had risen. On Dilworth Terrace, Myrna pulled into a gate and stopped at the bottom of a driveway which went up the side of a tall, shadowed house.

  Tamar stared in awe at the gracious, moonlit building. A large, two-storeyed wooden structure, its front door was close to the street but afforded privacy by a camellia hedge and a wrought-iron fence and gate. A short path led to a wide verandah with a finely turned wooden balustrade, which extended along the front of the house and down both sides. The heavy front door was flanked by stained-glass panes and surmounted by a glass arch fashioned to resemble sunrays. The second storey had a balcony, also extending around the house but not quite as wide as the verandah below. Both were decorated with intricate wooden fretwork. Many of the sash windows on both floors were almost full-length and almost every room had a set of French doors opening onto the balcony or verandah. At the very top of the house was a large octagonal belvedere, its windows providing views in all directions.

  The girls unfolded themselves from the landau and waited for Myrna to unlock the front door and light several incandescent gas lamps on the foyer walls. As Sven took the wagonette up the drive and began to unload, Myrna ushered Tamar inside and smiled when she heard her draw in a sharp breath.

  ‘It hasnae turned out bad, has it?’

  Tamar was speechless. The walls of the spacious foyer were a deep maroon, and the high ceiling with its ornate plaster centrepiece a rich off-white colour. In front of them a wide, carpeted staircase led up to the second floor. To the right of the finely turned bottom newel post stood an erotic but tasteful marble sculpture of a naked woman. Myrna led Tamar into a room to the left of the foyer. ‘This is the salon where customers will be entertained and choose which lady they wish to spend time with.’

  It was a large and beautifully decorated corner room, slightly masculine in style but very elegant. There were rich embossed velvet drapes caught at each window, and heavy cream lace curtains. Five deep, plush sofas were arranged in a horseshoe around the large fireplace, with strategically placed side tables and foot stools. Several walnut sideboards stood against the walls, with an expansive mahogany drinks cabinet positioned to one side. The wallpaper was a small, discreet floral and two Venetian mirrors and several semi-erotic paintings hung above the sideboards.

  Luxurious carpets covered the polished wooden floor and the lighting was provided by gas lamps in brass wall brackets and a splendid triple-shaded brass pendant in the centre of the ceiling. After admiring the room, Tamar followed Myrna out past an ornate étagère against the wall in the foyer and into another equally elegant room.

  ‘This is the dining room,’ said Myrna, indicating the gleaming mahogany dinin
g suite. The room featured another large fireplace and the windows were again draped with heavy curtains. ‘For the customers, should they feel a wee bit peckish.’ Leaving the dining room, she showed Tamar into the next room down the hall.

  ‘In here’s ma office where I’ll be keeping ma business books.’ In the office was an elegant walnut secretary and a matching sideboard, a sofa and several wing chairs with side tables. A patterned rug covered most of the floor. It was a stylish but businesslike room. Tamar made appropriate noises of approval and they carried on down towards the rear of the house.

  ‘And this is the side entrance. For customers who dinnae want to be seen coming in the front way.’ Myrna unlocked a smaller wood and stained-glass door opening onto the verandah. Like the front door, this one was flanked by a pair of cane stands. Sven was methodically piling the trunks and boxes from the wagonette, and began carrying them inside as Myrna opened the door.

  On the opposite side of the hall was an indoor privy for customers. Myrna went into the small room and pulled the chain on the high cistern. The privy flushed with a clanking whoosh. ‘Height o’ luxury and convenience. Cost a pretty penny, too.’

  Tamar, who had never seen a flush privy, could not resist pulling the chain herself and smiled delightedly as the water swirled magically away down the bowl.

  Through a set of semi-glazed double doors halfway down the hall was the kitchen. It was fitted with a massive Orion coal stove with two ovens, and had several general work surfaces, a spacious pantry and a big table in the middle. Across the hall was the girls’ off-duty parlour, furnished comfortably but not as grandly as the salon. Behind the kitchen at the back of the house was a generous laundry with several tubs, a large copper and a hand-operated wringer for linen. Opposite the laundry was a small bedroom for the maid Myrna was planning to employ, and outside off the back porch was another small room which Sven would occupy, as well as an old-fashioned non-flushing privy.

  ‘Now for upstairs. I think ye’ll like the girls’ rooms,’ said Myrna proudly. Mounting the stairs they could hear the others calling to each other and laughing. All eight bedrooms had access to the balcony encircling the house, their interior doors opening onto a large space around the stairwell. Several sofas and a sideboard stood against the landing walls, with vases for fresh flowers. Also on this floor was a bathroom and a separate flush privy. Myrna explained she preferred the girls did not keep chamber pots in their rooms. ‘Doesnae do for the customers to kick over a pot full o’ piss in the middle o’ things.’

  Tamar opened a large double cupboard on the landing and saw it was half-filled with fine new linen.

  ‘We’ll put the rest in tomorrow. There’s a hell o’ a lot o’ it,’ said Myrna. ‘Mind you, we’ll be needing it if we’re going to change the sheets between every customer. It’s no’ pleasant for a gentleman to be reminded o’ those before him.’

  Polly darted out of a bedroom, grabbed Tamar’s hand and pulled her inside. ‘Isn’t it lovely?’ she exclaimed, indicating her new room. It was indeed a charming boudoir, decorated with yards of lace, chiffon and silk. The walls were a pale lilac complemented by green and violet floral rugs on a polished floor. There was a large wrought-iron bed covered with pillows and an embroidered satin bedspread, a night stand on either side, a chest of drawers topped with a fine lace runner, a lady’s dressing table with mirror and small upholstered chair, and a big double-doored, mirrored wardrobe in one corner. The glazed French doors were artfully draped with brocade curtains and heavy lace. The effect was very pretty, feminine and opulent.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ agreed Tamar with a twinge of jealousy. ‘It really is.’ She turned to see Myrna standing at the door. ‘You’ve done a lovely job of all this,’ she said admiringly.

  Myrna nodded her thanks. ‘Well, I let ma girls choose the colours they wanted, and took it from there. The more feminine the better, I said to them. A man likes to feel he’s in a lady’s boudoir. Makes it more titillating. Would ye like to see ma private salon then, lassie?’ she asked.

  Tamar nodded and followed Myrna up a steep and narrow flight of stairs to the belvedere room. Of considerable size, it was octagonal and had windows facing in all directions and a narrow set of French doors opening onto a balconette looking over St George’s Bay. Myrna opened the doors; the velvety breeze brought Tamar the salt from the ocean and she could hear waves faintly washing against the shore.

  ‘The sea reminds me o’ Scotland. It has a verra soothing effect,’ said Myrna as they both looked out towards the water. ‘What d’ye think?’ she asked, turning back into the room.

  The expansive bed was of polished mahogany and covered with a heavy taupe damask bedspread with matching tasselled pillows and bolsters. Several oriental silk carpets with red accents covered the floors, and a sofa and two wing chairs, upholstered in the same fabric as the bedspread, were arranged facing the French doors. The walls were papered a deep, blood red and Myrna’s bedroom furniture was plain and dark but extremely elegant. There were none of the frills and bows which adorned the girls’ rooms below. It was a sophisticated room, clearly belonging to a woman.

  ‘How on earth did you manage to find a house like this?’ asked Tamar eventually, sitting herself on the sofa and stretching her legs in front of her.

  ‘Och, I looked around but I couldnae really see anything that suited. I’d verra nearly settled on a place on Parnell Rise but it wasnae quite right. Overpriced, too. And then I was advised this one was going at a reasonable cost — probably because it wasnae finished upstairs, and no’ decorated inside. The man who built it, an Australian by the name o’ Willoughby, ran out o’ money before he could finish and went back to Australia in a bit o’ a hurry. He was a land speculator and went broke when the banks called in their loans. Been empty ever since. It was ideal for ma purposes, I could oversee the design o’ the girls’ rooms, and it’s in a good spot — no’ right in town but no’ too far away.’

  ‘It must have set you back, all this.’

  ‘Aye, it has. The decorating hasnae been cheap and the garden out the back has to be developed, but I think I’ll soon get ma money back. We’ll be opening next week. I’ve been asking around, discreetly o’ course, and there isnae another house as fine as this in Auckland.’

  Tamar spent several hours helping Myrna’s girls unpack their things and rearrange their furniture. They were in a high state of excitement and Myrna had to yell at them when it came time to turn off the lamps, lock the door and go back to Mt Eden for their last night in the rented house.

  Tamar only went to the house on Dilworth Terrace once after that, for dinner the evening before it opened; once customers started coming Tamar would be unable to visit without risking association with Myrna’s business. John Adams was there and everyone sat around the big table in the dining room and ate off Myrna’s fine china dinner service with her equally fine silver cutlery.

  Tamar had received a surprise when she knocked on the door and none other than Eliza opened it. Her tall frame was still gaunt, but she looked happy and her customary sneer had been replaced by a wide smile that made her, if not pretty, then at least personable. Her hair was clean and tied back under a house cap and there was no sign of her earlier personal hygiene problems.

  When Eliza ushered Tamar into the salon, Myrna said from her position on one of the sofas, ‘Good evening to ye, Tamar. And what d’ye think of ma new maid?’

  Eliza blushed as everyone cheered, John and the girls a little rowdy and pink-faced as they had already had several drinks. Sven sat quietly, his large body parked gingerly on the edge of a sofa as if frightened he would break it, not understanding most of what was being said but keeping his eyes on Eliza.

  By the end of the evening, John was decidedly unsteady on his feet and had to be driven home by Sven. Myrna sent the girls to bed for a decent night’s sleep before their first day of business, while she and Tamar sat talking in the salon for another hour. Myrna did most of this, focusing on her plans
for the business. She had sent Sven, attired in a decent suit and hat, around most of the gentlemen’s clubs in Auckland with money to bribe the waiters to discreetly leave her business cards in places where they would be seen by prospective customers.

  Patronage was by appointment only and she had already received almost a dozen requests for appointments over the following week. She knew by experience that after the first few weeks, word of the quality service she provided would spread and business would pick up even more. She was still in the market for two or three more girls but had decided to wait until she had a better indication of the level of demand; no sense in over-extending, she said to Tamar.

  She was also pleased to have Eliza working for her. The girl had knocked on the back door several days ago asking if Myrna had any positions. Myrna was preparing to let her down gently, then realised it was domestic work she was after. Eliza laughed and said she was well aware she was not in the same league as Myrna’s girls but she could make beds, wash linen and clean a house as well as anybody. She could also cook, although she would need some practice if anything fancy was required.

  Myrna gave her the job, suspecting a position of responsibility and trust could be just the thing to bring out the best in Eliza. When she asked how she had heard about the new business, Eliza replied there was word on the street that a fine new house was about to open with beautiful young ladies catering for wealthy gentlemen. The street girls were not overly bothered as their clientele were not big spenders, but they were well aware of where Myrna’s house was and the type of service she was offering.

  Eventually, Myrna said to Tamar, ‘Have ye heard from that Peter Montgomery then?’

  Tamar went red. ‘Yes, I have … yesterday I received an invitation to lunch with him at the Thames Hotel. I’m not sure whether to go or not.’