Act of Will. Barbara Taylor Bradford

did not notice this. Nor was she conscious of the weather. It was a harsh day, exceptionally cold, and the sky was sullen, laden with snow. But it might have been the middle of spring for all she knew, or cared, so intent was she in her purpose. She was also filled with anticipation and excitement. A week ago she had never heard of the Bell family, and now, here she was, journeying half-way across Yorkshire to seek a post with them.

       What if she did not like the Bells?

      At this thought her step faltered, but only for a split second. Stepping out as briskly as before, she told herself she would make a polite excuse and leave at once if the people at Calpher House did not appear to be suitable employers.

      The ticket collector at the station gave Audra a cheerful greeting as he punched her ticket and handed her the return stub. He touched his cap politely, and she nodded in acknowledgement, then hurried down the platform where the Leeds-bound train was already standing, puffing out steam and hooting. She boarded it swiftly and went into the first empty First Class carriage she saw. She took a corner seat near the window with only a few minutes to spare before the guard blew his whistle and the train shunted out.

      Audra soon began to realize that it was warmer in the carriage than she had anticipated. She pulled off her grey woollen gloves and unbuttoned her coat, then settled back, making herself comfortable for the journey.

      Audra knew she looked smart today.

      For her trip to Leeds she had chosen to wear her best grey Melton topcoat. Although it had been purchased in a sale and was already two years old, it was still fashionable, a wrap-around style with long, rolled lapels fastening at the hip with a huge button. Underneath the coat she had on a straight skirt made of grey wool and a matching grey jumper that came down over her hips. Together they created a slender tube-like effect, and she believed that this long line and her black court shoes with Cuban heels made her look taller; this pleased Audra who was always trying to gain a few inches. Her only jewellery was her mother’s cameo brooch, which she had pinned onto the front of her jumper, and her treasured watch.

      When Audra had been visiting Gwen in September, her friend had given her a cloche made of plum-coloured brushed felt. ‘My worst buy ever!’ Gwen had said when she had shown the hat to Audra. ‘It’s like a pea on a drum. I look awful in it, but I bet it suits you to a T, lovey.’ Gwen had been quite correct. The cloche was perfect on Audra, and she had been happy and grateful to accept it, had treasured the hat for a special occasion such as this.

      But now she wondered if the hat was too frivolous for the interview with Mrs Bell, and she opened her bag, took out her mirror. Her reflection reassured her at once. The cloche, which was very much the rage, gave her a stylish up-to-date look, and the rich plum tone of the felt added just the right touch of necessary colour to her all-grey ensemble. Her clothes were sober and dignified, and she felt sure she would make a good impression on Mrs Irène Bell.

      As the train rumbled on through the Dales towards Leeds, Audra’s thoughts stayed with the woman she was going to see; she began to review the few things she had gleaned about her from Matron, turning them over in her mind.

      It was Audra’s understanding that Irène Bell was a successful business woman who had a strong intellectual bent and was something of a blue stocking. She was devoted to furthering the cause of women’s rights, and had always been a staunch disciple of the Pankhurst women who had done so much for female emancipation. According to Matron, Mrs Bell was also a great admirer of Nancy Astor, the American married to Lord Astor who was the first woman to sit in Parliament. Actively involved in politics herself, Mrs Bell was seemingly a tireless worker for the Tory Party in Leeds, with many of her own political ambitions – especially regarding Parliament.

      There was no doubt in Audra’s mind that she was obviously an unusual and interesting woman, and one who was quite different from any she had ever met. Except for Margaret Lennox, of course, who was a true original, and whom Audra revered, even idealized.

      Gazing out of the train window, hardly aware of the fields and hedges speeding by, Audra attempted to visualize Mrs Bell in her mind’s eye. Since she had been a friend of Matron’s for many years and had grown-up children, Audra reasoned she must be a woman in her middle forties. Instantly she was confronted by the image of a stern and somewhat severe person, perhaps resembling Matron, and one who was a model of organization and efficiency.

      Audra arrived at this last conclusion because of the tone of the letter she had received from Mrs Bell earlier in the week. It was detailed and explicit, and her instructions for getting to Calpher House, Upper Armley, left nothing whatsoever to chance. It struck Audra, and for the second time in the last few days, that Mrs Bell must be an exceptionally thoughtful woman, since she had sent her a First Class rail ticket instead of a cheaper one, as might have been expected under the circumstances. This was a truly considerate gesture, and one which certainly seemed to augur well for the future, at least to Audra’s way of thinking. She suddenly realized how curious she was about Irène Bell, and just how much she was looking forward to meeting her.

      Functuality was one of Audra’s strong suits, and she always became agitated if she was late. Throughout the journey, she had glanced at her watch, praying that the train would be on time. Much to her relief it was. It pulled into Leeds City Station at exactly one minute to two, early, in point of fact, by sixty seconds.

      Once she had left the bleak and grimy railway station, Audra was plunged into a whirl of traffic and pedestrians hurrying about their business. For a second or two the strident noise and the feverish bustle of the greatest industrial city in the North of England startled and overwhelmed her. The cacophony of sounds was a deafening contrast to the bucolic calm of sleepy, rural Ripon.

      But since nothing ever fazed Audra Kenton for very long she adjusted relatively quickly to her surroundings. After only a brief pause, she sucked in her breath, threw her shoulders back and brought her head up to a proud angle, ready and set to brave anything in this exciting new world awaiting her.

      Tucking her handbag tightly under her arm, she walked purposefully across the road to City Square, where the statue of the Black Prince on his charger dominated the scene. She found the tram stop she wanted without any difficulty, and after a ten-minute wait in a small queue she followed the people ahead of her onto a tramcar going to Whingate. This was the terminus in Upper Armley where the tram turned around to go back to the city. Mrs Bell had told her to stay on the car all the way to the end of the line.

      Half an hour later, Audra alighted from the double-decker tram, which she had thoroughly enjoyed riding on, and she stood for a moment, looking around her with burgeoning interest. After all, she might soon be living here.

      To her right was the tiny wedge of a park enclosed by spike-topped black iron railings and a neatly-clipped privet hedge; Mrs Bell had said that it had the curious name of Charlie Cake Park. To her left was a huge red brick building, sprawling out behind a low brick wall, and she assumed this to be West Leeds Boys’ High School.

      Audra knew exactly which way she had to go now.

      She began to walk ahead at a brisk pace, glancing at the scenery and taking everything in with keenly observing eyes. She saw at once that the village of Upper Armley was picturesque and that it had a quaint Victorian charm. And despite the darkly-mottled sky, sombre and presaging snow, and a landscape bereft of greenery, it was easy to see how pretty it must be in the summer weather.

      Following Mrs Bell’s instructions, which she had committed to memory days ago, Audra hurried up Greenhill Road in the direction of Hill-Top, the area where the Bell home was located.

      It was a nippy afternoon, very blustery, and she had to hold onto her little cloche as she struggled forward, buffeted by the wind that whistled down over the hill with icy ferocity. Audra was shivering when she reached the crest of the hill and drew to a stop in front of a pair of tall and imposing wrought-iron gates upon which hung a large lozenge-shaped plaque. This was made of brass that had been rubbed up to a glittering sheen. It was inscribed with the name Calpher House in fancy scroll letters and it told her she had reached her destination.