Mrs Barnes made small talk on the way to the working museum. The weather was overcast but that didn’t bother me. I was out of the house and enjoying the drive. I thought about when Mrs Barnes referred to me as ‘she’ before we left. Being referred to as ‘he’ didn’t seem right and being called a ‘she’ at least matched my appearance. I also though about Mother saying ‘a proper young lady’. She sounded almost proud of me. I anticipated being called Rebecca all day long. This is going to be weird, I thought, but not as weird as it would be being called Peter all day!
“Here we are Rebecca.” Said Mrs Barnes after about half an hour. She turned into the drive which led to a sizeable stately home.
“Wow!” I said as we approached it. “That’s huge!”
“It certainly is.” Mrs Barnes replied. “…and it’s largely residential too.” She added.
“You mean people still live here?”
“Yes. Only a small portion is set aside as the working museum.”
“Blimey…. imagine hoovering all that!”
Mrs Barnes chuckled as she pulled into a vacant parking space. The entrance led into a sizeable courtyard which had a working smithy and kitchen garden. We watched a demonstration of a horse shoe being made, followed by a huge shire horse being shod. I took several photo’s with Mother’s camera and Mrs Barnes took several photo’s of me stood by a variety of of old carts and other exhibits.
Next was the Victorian kitchen. A group of visitors listened as the tour guide, who was in full Victorian dress, explained the workings of a Victorian kitchen and how it differed greatly from modern kitchens. She also explained how the hierarchy of the maids worked; from the housekeeper at the top, the lady’s maid, the cook, the parlour maid down to the kitchen maid and scullery maids. As she talked, a lady in traditional Victorian dress worked the kitchen.
“Now, as you can see….” Said the tour guide. “The cook is working very hard and could do with some help… so I need three girls to volunteer and get 1st hand experience of life in a Victorian kitchen.” She looked expectantly at the visitors and picked out two girls from the school group. “Now we need one more girl… a little older maybe?” She looked directly at me as she spoke. I froze!
“Well go on Rebecca.” Encouraged Mrs Barnes. “Give me your hand bag and I’ll take some photos.”
Nervously I stood alongside two other girls who had been chosen to get first hand experience of life in a Victorian kitchen. Mrs Barnes smiled at me reassuringly as I glanced across the faces of the other visitors.
“Well… now we have our brave volunteers.” Smiled the tour guide, “But can anybody tell me what’s wrong with them?” She said directly to the younger children in the school group. “Anybody?” She prompted.
One little girl put her hand up and said, “Their clothes.”
“Well done!” Said the tour guide, “Their clothes are far too modern to work in a Victorian kitchen, so I’ll take our three volunteers to get changed into something more appropriate whilst the cook tells you all about the kitchen.” Some of the children giggled as their two friends, and me were herded into another room. I felt the look of horror sweep across my face. Mrs Barnes smiled an encouraging smile.