“Four pounds.”
“Which bank was it paid into?”
“The National Commercial on the first day of every month unless the first was a weekend or bank holiday then it was paid on the next business day. The manager’s name at the Cambridge branch is Mr. Arnold. I never met him, so I cannot describe him to you, but he has been the manager the entire time, so is likely my age or older.”
The allowance went into my account on the first of every month and it was indeed four pounds. Prior to my grandfather’s death, I had not been allowed to access it without his signature, but after his death, I was given full access. I’d always assumed my father set up the allowance in the event of his death; an event that had unfortunately come to pass. If Uncle Ronald were to be believed, it had been paid by him and from the day I was born.
“It will be easy enough for me to check,” I told him.
“Yes, it would.” He smiled, but there was a hint of sadness tugging at the corners of his eyes. “You remind me so much of your mother. You have her spirit.” He cleared his throat and reached for the pen again. “You have your father’s practical common sense, however, so I suspect you will accept the raise to your allowance without objection.”
It wasn’t a question, yet he didn’t immediately sign the letter. Reading it upside down, it was indeed a letter addressed to Mr. Arnold at the National Commercial bank, stipulating my allowance should be raised by the amount of five pounds a month and that I would henceforth be drawing on the funds from London.
“I have already informed Mr. Arnold of my relocation to London,” I said. “I met him for the first time prior to my departure. He’s older than you, has poor eyesight, and no hair on his head but an abundance on his face in the form of long gray whiskers.”
My uncle’s smile returned. He set the paper aside. “I’ll draft another and remove that paragraph. It’ll be sent by the last post of the day.”
“No.”
“What?”
“No, I don’t want an additional allowance. Not from you. I mean, not from anyone,” I added quickly. “Thank you, I appreciate the offer but the four pounds I already receive will suffice.”
“But…are you sure?”
If I was to make my own way here, I couldn’t rely on his money. Not more than I already was, anyway. Discovering that he had been paying my allowance all these years made me feel somewhat sick; I couldn’t stomach it if he more than doubled it.
“I’m sure, sir.”
He picked up the letter to the bank manager and appeared to be re-reading it when he suddenly screwed it up into a ball. “Call me Uncle Ronald.” He tossed the ball into a rubbish basket. “If you change your mind about the extra allowance, just come and see me.” He indicated the photograph of a newlywed couple in the oval frame on the corner of his desk. The man was a younger version of Uncle Ronald. “I want to assure you that your Aunt Lilian and I are very happy to have you with us. We hope you’ll be a steadying influence on Florence.”
“She has been very kind to me today,” I said.
“She’s a kind-hearted girl, if a little flighty at times. But you seem sensible, steady, Cleopatra.”
“Call me Cleo. Everyone does.”
“There, you see? Sensible.”
His reasoning was lost on me, but I went along with it and nodded. “May I ask you some questions about my stay here?”
“Of course. I imagine you have several.”
I cleared my throat. “I don’t want you to think me ungrateful for the offer.” I indicated the rubbish basket. “I am very grateful. However, I need to know what things cost here. Are there menus with prices on them?”
He frowned. “You’re not expected to pay for anything. All hotel amenities are free for family.”
He couldn’t possibly understand me. “What about tea and cake in the sitting room? And breakfast and dinner?”
He smiled. “All free.”
“What?” I blurted out. “All of it?”
He chuckled, producing a fan of wrinkles from the corners of his eyes. “Even dessert. I don’t expect you to pay for food, Cleo. As your uncle, I’m supporting you.”
“So…it’s not coming out of my allowance?”
“Your allowance is yours to do with as you wish. Spend it on hats and shoes, or save it. I don’t care. As I said earlier, the inheritance ought to have been shared between your mother and your aunt upon their parents’ deaths. It never sat well with me that your mother received nothing. While I can’t afford to give you her entire half, I can give you a little every month. I think that fair, don’t you?”
I blinked hard. This conversation was not going as I expected. Ever since I could recall, my grandparents had told me that my Uncle Ronald was greedy, that he’d married my aunt for her inheritance. To be honest, they didn’t really know him. After all, they knew him about as well as I did—and that was not at all.
“Thank you.” It sounded rather weak, so I said it again, just to be sure he understood I was truly grateful. “I don’t wish to be a burden on you for long, however. I want to be useful.”
“Useful?”
“I’d like to find a role for myself within the hotel.”
He waved off the suggestion. “You don’t have to work, Cleo. Work is for those who need the money. You don’t. Not anymore.”
“Is there nothing I can do? Some task, no matter how small? I’m good with mathematics, but I quite like people too and am happy to help the manager. Or the steward, perhaps, although I know very little about restaurants.”
He gave a stiff shake of his head. “Bainbridge women don’t work.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from retorting that I was a Fox not a Bainbridge. My uncle’s thinking was no different to my father’s or that of most other men and many women too, and I shouldn’t let it rankle. Yet it did.
“Well then, let me assure you I won’t be a burden on you for longer than necessary,” I said. “I plan to move out of the hotel one day.”
“Of course. When you marry, you’ll want to make your own home. That’s only natural.”
“I don’t plan to marry.”
He made a scoffing sound in the back of his throat. “Of course you will, my dear. A pretty girl such as yourself will find a husband. There are many eligible bachelors coming through the hotel. You will have your pick of gentlemen, both English and foreign.”
I bit the inside of my cheek again. I was going to have quite the sore spot there soon. “Thank you, but I really don’t intend to marry.”
“But—”
“I will work. If not here in the hotel, then elsewhere. I don’t yet know what I will do, but I’m sure something will crop up. Perhaps I’ll be an authoress or teacher, or a private secretary to a lady. Perhaps all three,” I added with more cheerfulness than I felt. He was looking at me as if I had grown horns so I found myself wanting to drive the point home. “I’m an independent woman, Uncle, and I plan to stay that way. As I see it, there is only one way to remain independent and that is to find work. I can’t accept your allowance forever.”