" 'The house has never changed hands.'
'Hands?' asks Tracy, startled.
'Yes, hands.' Hands to direct, to sign letters and write cheques for bills, to put a latchkey in the lock and bolt the doors at night. Other hands that hold keys too, but household keys; write notes that are dispatched, make pothooks in the top lines of copybooks, and pencil verses on canvas for samplers. These hands often write recipes: 'Our apple jelly with lavender and rosemary flavouring.' 'Our duck with cherries.' 'Our velvet cream.' The recipe book is still in the kitchen and Tracy's Great-great-grandmother Adza's velvet cream is still made on rare and especial occasions. These ladylike hands sew and knit; garden - but in gloves - play whist, leave cards, rub ointment on bruises; smooth hair back from hot foreheads, spank. There are younger, slimmer hands that embroider, and do the flowers, play the piano, cut the pages of novels, sketch - 'and twiddle their thumbs,' says Eliza. There are small hands, very often dirty, that pry and poke, into cupboards, work baskets, jam pots; make mud pies and cut out paper dolls [...] There are humbler deft hands that sweep and dust, wash china and clothes and linen; iron, mend, sew, cook, bake, make fires and beds, sound gongs, carry trays; and rougher hands still that chop wood, clean shoes, groom, dig, wash the motorcar, mow the lawn, 'but all our hands,' says Mrs. Quin."
From China Court: The Hours of a Country House by Rumer Godden
