Kizzy

By Julie Harris

Suffolk. England, 1964.

The Maginley’s maid, Millie, has ‘disappeared’ and it’s hoped her body will never be found. Desperate for a replacement, the Maginleys turn to Kizzy.

Kizzy is 15, has never had a real job before, nor has she ever been to school, but she can cook, she can clean, she can play the part to perfection. She is a devil of a psychic who does not need her mother’s old crystal ball.

The Maginleys hope the new maid won’t be the ‘problem’ that Millie was. They realize, too late, that Kizzy is a waking nightmare: she aims to be the lady of the manor and what Kizzy wants, Kizzy always gets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Julie Harris
• Release date: Jul 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9781497757820

Book preview

Chapter 1

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It was Grandpa’s dream that brought us to that beautiful, quiet place by the sea.

At the start it was good. Albie said the people in the village were fairly tolerant and tolerance was harder to find than a four-leaf clover. I was too young in mind back then to know what tolerance really meant. We settled but for how long no one really knew. Everything depended on Grandpa’s dreams—always had, and for a long time I thought they always would.

Grandma set to her walks on the very first morning after we arrived. She took her dog across the fields in her search for wildflowers, and brought back some blackberries as well. She gave them to me when no one was looking. Here you are, Kizzy, she said with a wink. My grandma used to dry the wildflowers she’d find, sort them into sprigs, ‘reflect upon them’ (her words, not mine) and if her arthritis wasn’t hurting too much, she’d venture off, door to door, selling her charms for a silver coin, or some food, or some rags she’d make into new clothes for me. After a good day ‘out-n-about’ she’d return with cast-off clothes for me—most of which needed mending bad, but some I could wear straight away. I never knew what Grandma would bring back next, and I would always be waiting. If I’d been good, funny word that—good—she’d take me along with her, but I didn’t go with her very often. Probably because if people called her names and told us to piss off, I would call them names and more. Grandma said I only made it worse. I couldn’t help it. I had what she said was a very short wick.

I was so used to doors slamming in my face that I thought it was normal. Some folks would pretend to be out. Some would threaten to ‘set the dogs on us’. One farmer down in Surrey almost shot my cousin Roberto and all he did was ask if there was any work. We were different and people don’t like different very much. A lot of the time we were called names that upset me until Grandma said that was how my grandpa first learnt English.

My grandpa never said much to anyone, but if someone had a problem, they’d sit with him for a long time. What few words he did say were worth hearing. I never had any problems for him to unravel—when the time came that I had, he wasn’t there any more.

As I said, my Grandpa’s dream brought us all to the place by the sea. It was a recurring dream and when it came again, he’d wake happy and restored to life and we all knew what it meant—we’d be moving on. For the past forty five years, about every three months, Grandpa would have the same dream. In it, there was a tin box buried beside a big oak tree, and to the right of the oak tree was a stone fence. Sometimes there was a shadow of a castle falling across the field, and sometimes not. He could always smell the sea, and because of that we had travelled the English coastline, hardly ever going inland.

I was born near Rye in 1949 and Albie said we stayed there about eight weeks, till Grandpa decided this wasn’t the place he’d dreamed of. Castles by the sea were many, but there never was an oak tree with a stone fence close enough. Oh, there was, but none matched the one in Grandpa’s dream. No one knew why he searched all those years—all he ever said was, I’ll know when I find it. Then he’d mumble, eternal sun.

Not even Grandma knew what he meant by that. But not once did anyone have the courage to ask him why we all had to follow his dream. No one dared because what Grandpa said was Law and God help anyone who argued with Grandpa. When I was a little girl, I asked him where this place of eternal sun was. I remember the evening—it was cold, and Roberto was learning the violin and we were all suffering, and I climbed onto Grandpa’s knee and asked where was this place of his dream. But he just laughed at me, kissed me hard and held my ears tight so I couldn’t hear Roberto killing the cat. That’s what Roberto’s fiddle sounded like.

A lot of time has passed since I crawled onto my grandpa’s knee.

I think the year was 1964 and we were living near the sea at Orford in Suffolk. A rich gentleman farmer, Mr. Michael Maginley—folks called him sah to his face and names they’d call us to his back—he was kind enough to let us stay on his land, on condition the boys set to fixing fences, cutting hay, and doing whatever else he asked of them when he asked them, and we left the property as we found it.

I can see now that he had his eye on me the whole time, but I was only fifteen and I didn’t really understand much. I dreamed of having the kind of life other girls my age had. I’d watch them walk to school in their posh uniforms, and I’d wonder what school was like. I’d never been to one, my grandma taught me all I needed to know. Besides, we never stayed in one place long enough for me to go to any school. Up there in Suffolk, by the sea on a big farm near Orford, I stayed a long time. So long in fact, I called it home. But it didn’t matter where in England we were—I loved the sea and spent as much time as I could sitting by myself, gazing out at the wild, gray ocean. When my Mama got sick I couldn’t go off by myself any more.

Mama had to stop telling fortunes because folks got scared of her coughing so much. The police came one day but that wasn’t a surprise because wherever we went they seemed to follow us and if we stayed somewhere for more than a week, we were told it was time to move on. In Orford, though, there was a nice policeman. At least he seemed to be. He told my grandpa that my mama needed a doctor, and she shouldn’t really be telling fortunes. It was, technically, he said, against the law.

Mama had to stop due to being sick, and although I never knew exactly how to do it, I had to take her place instead, telling people the things I ‘saw’ in the crystal ball. They didn’t know I saw these ‘things’ in my head when I read their palms or their tea leaves. We didn’t tell the copper that though. He found out soon enough.

Back then I didn’t know who my father was because Mama would never say. She spent her time staring at nothing and drinking whatever she could get her hands on. I never really knew my mama. I was always sleeping when she was awake, and when I was awake, she was sleeping it off.

Mama didn’t like me much. Said I was an ugly, horrible monster that should never have been born and she gave me to Grandma.

So when we lived at Orford, I was 15, with a grandma for a mama, boy cousins who treated me like one of them, and I didn’t know I was a girl, or what being a girl really meant, till I met Mr. Michael Maginley, the one everybody called sah.

We were there a day or two when Mr. Maginley came down from the big house to the field where we had set up our camp. My cousin Albie mumbled something about it being time to leave already. And even Albie was surprised when Mr. Maginley asked if I could do some work in the big house. His girl had run off—something like that. Grandma said yes, of course I would. He said he’d pay me two shillings a day—after all, we were living on his land, rent free.

Grandpa didn’t mind, two shillings a day would help keep us in some food providing I gave the money straight to him and didn’t let Mama get her hands on it. Everyone except Albie gave me hell about having to be polite and doing what I was told for a change. Albie was upset about it, said we didn’t need the money that bad. He didn’t trust Michael Maginley—didn’t like the way he looked at me. But there were more of us for the idea of me working in the big house than there were against, so Albie had to shut his trap.

But he could never shut his big trap for long.

Albie knew something wasn’t right long before I did. But back then, I still trusted people.

The night before I started work in the big house Albie sat beside me and he said, "Don’t you let him touch you, Kizzy. Not the likes of him." I didn’t really know what he was talking about so I said, sure. But Albie knew that I was stupid and he didn’t go away any happier.

I didn’t know why he was so upset. I liked Mr. Maginley. He was tall and strong-looking and he spoke posh, but nice, too—he didn’t mumble or half-say his words. What I liked the most though was how he looked me right in the eye while he was asking Grandma if I could work in the big house. He was as old as my Uncle Stefano whose wife had died in childbirth but he ran away the night she died and no one had seen him since. Mr. Maginley had the kind of face Albie had—a face the ladies liked a lot.

Mr. Maginley said I should start the next morning at half five. So I wore my red skirt and the only pair of shoes I had, and a white blouse Grandma had mended and one of her old shawls and she made me brush my hair a hundred times to make it shine. I never slept much that night. I was nervous. I’d never had a paid job before. I figured fortune telling didn’t count as a real job.

I walked up to the big house in the dark, and around the back, to the kitchen, just like I was told, and at half five I knocked on the door. A little old lady let me in and I didn’t say much to her. I didn’t have to. When I first saw her I knew she would die before Christmas. I can tell that just by looking at people, but things like that no one wants to hear. Just worries them and worry makes you die quicker, or so Grandma always said.

She said her name was Stella and I had to call her Mam. She asked me if I could cook and I said yes. But I’d never used one of those big oil-burning cookers. I was used to cooking over the campfire. Stella had to show me what to do, though she didn’t really show me, she just sat in her corner and smoked a pipe and sipped on sherry and told me what to do next.

I had to take breakfast upstairs to Mrs. Maginley, and I had to call her Mam, too, and I had to bob a little when I saw her. Stella led me out of the kitchen into a dark hallway, and pointed to a huge staircase with carved rails. I didn’t have much time to look at all the beautiful things around me. They must have been very rich these Maginleys.

Mrs. Maginley’s room was the third on the right once I got to the top of the stairs and turned left. I knocked and heard a faint, Yes?

Your breakfast, Mam, I said, just like Stella had told me.

It’s open.

I expected to see Mr. Maginley beside her but he wasn’t. This was her room. I could tell by the pretty things in there. I’d never seen a bed like it—it was huge, with four posters and frills and lacy covers, and there were fresh flowers in the room, too. Daffodils and roses. I put the tray down where Stella told me to, on the shiny table beside the bed.

Mrs. Maginley watched me for a long time. Hello, I said and bobbed like I was told. She didn’t say hello in return.

How old are you, girl?

Fifteen, Mam.

God, they’re getting younger each time. She looked as if she was going to cry. She was so very sad. I could feel it. How much is he paying you?

Two shillings, Mam.

Bloody slavery.

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. To me two shillings was a fortune.

Where’s Michael? she asked.

I don’t know who Michael is, Mam.

"My husband. Your ... employer." She said ‘employer’ in a strange way.

You mean Mr. Maginley? I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. I cooked some bacon and eggs, and there’s toast and tea for you.

I’m not hungry. Stella knows I never eat before 8. I don’t know why she sent you up so early. She should know better.

Oh. Will I take it away? I hoped she’d say yes because if she didn’t want it, I’d have it. I was hungry.

Leave it. Open the curtains, girl.

I wondered when she’d ask what my name was, unless she already knew and thought Girl suited me better than Kizzy did.

I drew back the curtains and the sun hit me in the face. From here I could see the ocean, and a ship on the horizon. There was chair near the window, too. I knew that Mrs. Maginley sat here a lot, looking out to sea.

Just like me.

If you steal anything I will know.

I don’t steal, Mam. What’s yours is yours.

I have heard that your mother tells fortunes.

Not any more, Mam. She’s sick. She can’t.

So there’s no one who tells fortunes?

I’m supposed to.

"You? Good God. You? How can you tell fortunes? You’re a child!"

I looked back at her. She was pouring her tea from the silver teapot, her hands were shaking. I wondered why, she didn’t look that old. Then the reason came to me. It always did and it was out before I could stop it. I know you miss your little boy. His name was Andrew, but you called him Tiger.

She dropped the spoon and stared at me. Michael told you this?

No. I just know.

I didn’t say there was a little boy sitting on the bed beside her. He was about four years old and he was playing with a ball. He looked at me and smiled. He liked me. I wasn’t scared—I’d been seeing dead people for as long as I could remember. Most of them were nice to me. I had my own way of chasing the ones that weren’t so nice. "He says don’t be sad. He’s with you. He has always been with you. He knows everything."

Impossible. My son is dead. He’s been dead for a year.

Again the little boy smiled and in my mind I saw how he had died. He was bouncing his ball against a wall. It went over and he chased it and ran straight into a big black car. He bounced off the windshield and was dead before he hit the ground.

Tomorrow, bring your cards and whatever else you use. I’ll see how good you are.

I don’t need cards, Mam.

Bring them anyway or you won’t get paid.

Yes, Mam.

Off with you now. Stella has a mountain of work for you.

I went away, back down the stairs and into the kitchen. The little boy came with me. I knew how he must have felt—it wasn’t often a dead person found a live one he could talk to.

For the rest of the morning I had to scrub the black and white tiles on the floors, and dust the paintings and sideboards, and rub polish into the bannisters. And Tiger was with me the whole time bouncing his ball and grinning at me.

That first day, Mr. Maginley wasn’t coming home for lunch, so I didn’t have to cook anything, just make some fancy sandwiches for Mrs. Maginley and the county ladies when they came at lunch time. Mrs. Maginley told everybody that I told fortunes, and then she told me that next week, I was supposed to ‘read the cards’ for five of the six ladies. I wondered then if I should bring a few of Grandma’s charms. Anyone who liked having their fortunes told were superstitious and if they thought Grandma’s charms would bring them good luck they would probably buy them.

In the afternoon, I had to go out to the garden to pull up some carrots, and kill a hen—but not one of the layers—clean it, cook it and have it ready for five past six when Mr. Maginley came home and saw his wife for the first time that day.

Stella pointed out which hen she wanted me to kill and it took a while to catch it, kill it, pluck it and clean it. And then she told me how to cook it but I already knew—or I thought I did. So on my very first day I learnt how to cook a roast chicken for rich folks and then I had to watch them eat it and I was starving by then.

I had to stand the entire time the Maginleys ate the food I’d cooked, and I was as hungry as a horse, too, because the chicken smelled so good when it was cooking. Mr. Maginley talked of business and who still owed him what, how he’d have to go down to London soon to get legal advice for something or other, how he’d be gone at least a week. Mrs. Maginley didn’t say a thing. I knew she didn’t believe he was going to London to see a solicitor. It wasn’t law he had on his mind.

The dining room was huge and there was a very long table for just the two of them. There was no sign of Tiger anywhere—no photograph, no painting. It was like they pretended they’d never had a son.

Mrs. Maginley was dressed in a blue woolly pullover with creamy colored pearls around her neck and earrings to match. She’d changed her clothes four times that day. And he wore a suit. He always wore a suit. She hardly said a word, but she did turn to me to say I was a very good cook. I filled Mr. Maginley’s wine glass for him, mainly because he held it up and looked at me. He asked how my first day had been and I said fine, but I was tired and hungry, could I go soon? He laughed and said I could once all my chores were done.

I had to clear the table, clean it careful-like because it was so old, and then polish it; wash all the dishes and clean up the kitchen until it shone. Mrs. Maginley went straight to bed, and my last job was taking a bottle of port from the sideboard up to Mr. Maginley’s room, and setting the fire for the morning. So I balanced the tray in my hand and knocked on his door—two doors down from his wife’s on the other side of the hallway. I thought it was strange that they didn’t sleep together.

Now, all day, little Tiger had been with me, and he even thought it was funny when I had to chop the hen’s head off, but when I knocked on his father’s door, he wouldn’t come in. He disappeared. That made me wonder why he didn’t like his father.

Ah, Kizzy. Put it down here, Mr. Maginley said. He shut the door after me. I put the tray on a sideboard in his big room and went to the fireplace and took kindling and paper from the wooden box nearby and set the fire like Stella told me to.

How was your first day? he asked. I heard him pouring his port into the little glass.

Fine, Mr. Maginley. How was your day?

It’s been a long time since anyone has asked me what kind of day I’ve had.

No, it hadn’t been a long time. It was the first thing Mrs. Maginley said to him when he came in the door and took his coat and hat off. I heard her say it. But he just pushed past and didn’t say a thing back.

Asked me and meant it, I mean.

Oh.

Stella tells me you’re a good, hard worker.

I just do what I’m told. Grandpa says a good day’s work’ll get you to heaven quicker than going to church every Sunday. Sah.

He laughed at that, but I didn’t know what was so funny. Perhaps your grandfather is right. And there’s no need to call me ‘sir’, Kizzy. Not here. Not now. Look. Here. Come here for a moment. The fire can wait.

I walked to where he stood. His jacket was hanging on his hat stand, his shirt was undone and his braces were lying on his behind. He picked up a little black and white dress. Stella gave this to me this afternoon. It was Millie’s but it should fit you. Try it on. If it doesn’t fit, I’ll have it altered, or a new one made. It’s your uniform. Come closer, Kizzy. I won’t bite.

I took the black and white dress from his hand. It had buttons on the front, and a white lace collar. A uniform? Like the ones girls wear to school?

I suppose it is, yes. Have you always wanted to go to school, Kizzy?

Yes but we’re never in one place very long.

Try your uniform on now. If it fits, you can wear it tomorrow.

I didn’t get nice clothes very often. In fact, I never got nice clothes, especially dresses that were almost new. The lace that looked so soft was hard and stiff and it smelled of someone else, too. I could see who wore this last time, this Millie girl who’d run off. She was a lot smaller than me. And then I saw something really strange—I saw what I thought must be the bottom of a well. Odd. Why would I see the bottom of a well?

Can I take it home with me?

Best you try it on here. You need to wear a uniform if you’re going to be our new girl. Mr. Maginley turned his back. I took off my skirt and then my blouse and I struggled to get the black dress on but the buttons wouldn’t meet. No way. Then he turned and looked me up and down.

I didn’t think it’d fit, I said.

Not to worry. He tried doing one or two buttons up himself, but couldn’t. He started laughing. And I did, too. And once the dress was pulled off, Mr. Maginley had a really good look before he handed my blouse over and I put it on quickly.

Can I go now?

Of course you can.

I put my skirt back on and went to the door.

Kizzy?

I looked back.

I think we’re going to be very good friends indeed.

I walked back to the camp in the dark and the fog as quietly as I could. I knew Grandma would be asleep and I hoped I could sneak in without waking the dog, because if Grandpa was woken up, he was grumpy for a long time. The dog knew it was me and didn’t make a sound except for his tail thumping on the ground. Albie was waiting for me. You’re late.

I had a lot to do. I’m tired.

What’s he like?

All right.

Why are you so late?

Albie—

Look, Kizzy, I don’t like the idea of you being alone up there.

It’s nice there.

So he didn’t touch you?

Albie! No. It’s not like that.

You sure? Albie looked at me the way Grandma did when she knew I was lying.

Sure I’m sure. Did you wait up just to ask me a hundred questions?

No. No, I’m just getting some air.

I knew he was lying. I put my hand in my pocket and took out some chicken—a drumstick I’d stolen. I gave it to him. I knew Albie liked drumsticks. I thought of giving him the roasted potato too but I wanted to eat it with my stew. He walked me to the fire, where the pot was still warm and I filled my bowl. We left some meat for you. Grandpa said you’d be hungry. Remember to put the fire out.

Yeah, yeah.

Albie went off to bed and I looked back at the big house—one light was still on up there. I could see Mr. Maginley at his bedroom window. I knew it was him.

I had two helpings of stew and left the potato till last. Then I climbed into the caravan but before I went in, I looked back at the house again.

Mr. Maginley was still by his window, watching. For a moment I thought he’s like me, he’s looking at the sea. But I knew in my heart the sea was the last thing on his mind.

Chapter 2

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That night I had strange dreams of Tiger Maginley . He was playing near a well and just before I woke, I was running to him, yelling at him to get away, and I slipped and fell in. I didn’t hit bottom though. I woke up just in time and was ever so pleased I did. It felt too real to be a dream.

It was still dark outside and cold, too. I didn’t want to get out of bed but I knew I had to. My red skirt was dirty so I found a green one Mama used to wear. It’d be good when Mr. Maginley got the