Notebooks of the Young Wife by Tara Black

Introductions were made to the striking Ama, a mechanic and driver who looked after the collection of classic cars, and little kitchen maid Jill, who came in with a huge jug of what proved to be porter sent from a small local brewery. Cook, of course, presided at head of table and once her tankard had been filled the ale was passed round.
    ‘Simple fare, Dr Greene, but all of the best. Help yourself.’ I needed no encouragement and was soon spreading creamy butter onto a slice of the crusty loaf. ‘May I ask, did you get what you wanted from the boy?’
    ‘Well, Mrs Beaton, it was a start and I left him searching for the notebooks we need to find. There is one thing you could tell me, if you will. I’ve been calling him “boy” since I got to, er, to meet him.’
    ‘And “boy” it is, I’m afraid. Unless anyone knows what I don’t.’ She scanned round the table but there were no offers. ‘Mrs Jencks must have a name for him but I’ve never cared to ask.’
    ‘I reckon that’s what he prefers,’ said Ama, spearing an onion with her fork, ‘though I tried at first. Especially when we arrived on the same afternoon, two newcomers together. And I expect you can guess what that meant, Dr Greene.’ Before she swigged from her glass I thought I detected a wink.
    ‘Would I be right in thinking of the Great Hall and a certain wooden block? In fact a rather broad block if memory serves.’
    The black girl giggled. ‘Got it in one. Two targets side by side, eh, Mrs B?’
    Cook cleared her throat, for once not quite in control of the situation. ‘Well, the Master insisted on it, so—’
    ‘Fair enough. But did you really have to keep cutting me long after you’d finished with the boy?’
    ‘My dear, I didn’t mean to treat you worse, and you know that.’ The large lady clicked her tongue. ‘I never before took the rod to a coloured—’
    ‘Black.’
    ‘All right, a black girl. And the marks are a lot harder to make out. Now if you wanted me to get more practice – no? – well then, let’s change the subject. You’re just trying to embarrass me in front of our guest.’
    When the meal was done and we left the kitchen, Ama lingered by the back door. ‘Tell me to keep my nose out, but you’re a bit struck on the boy, yeah?’ I mumbled something, feeling the colour rise to my face as she went on. ‘You’ll think I got some nerve saying this, but I’d bet he hasn’t actually been doing it.’
    Gobsmacked is not a word I’m attached to, but there are times when no substitute is adequate. In the silence I stood fixed by eyes set deep in the oval face rimmed by hair braided tight to the scalp until I made myself speak. ‘No, but it’s early days, surely. I didn’t want to rush the lad.’
    ‘Oh God, of course not. You must think me completely crass.’ The furrowed brow diminished the young woman’s beauty not one jot. ‘Thing is, after we were birched together like I said, we got left alone to console ourselves. And he was rock hard till I made a move to fit the peg into the hole, if you get me. I never saw any stiffie wilt so fast.’ I couldn’t help smiling at the image that came to mind. ‘See, Dr Greene, I reckon he’s a gay boy pure and simple. He gets off on Mom spanking him but he doesn’t want to fuck her.’
    ‘Jane, please. And you could well be right, Ama.’ The learned doctor really didn’t go with such a down-to-earth conversation, and besides, I was trying to digest the implications of the remark. Assuming the driver wasn’t one to skulk about in the night listening at doors, the boy’s taste for a hot bottom was no secret, at least at Ardingley End.
    ‘I’m an awful snoop. To be honest, I fancied the pants off him myself, but after that bad start there was no chance. If you’re in with one I’m plain jealous.’
    ‘I’ll keep you informed if you like. But now I’ll have to rescue from his library search the one whose ears should be glowing red by this