Читать книгу A Happy Meeting - Бетти Нилс - Страница 4

CRESSIDA, putting a final polish on the table silver, was astonished when Moggy opened the door to admit Dr Braddock.

He wished them a good morning, patted her on the shoulder and signified his intention of examining her ankle.

‘However did you know about it?’ asked Cressida and tried not to wince as he prodded it gently.

‘Dr van der Linus very correctly informed me. How fortunate that he should have found you, my dear. I couldn’t better the strapping myself but you must have it X-rayed. I’ve got my car outside. I’ll run you in to Yeovil now and get it done…’

‘Must you? I mean, Stepmother’s got a dinner party this evening…’

‘There is no need for her to come with you,’ said Dr Braddock testily. He turned to Miss Mogford. ‘Do you suppose we could give her a chair downstairs? Just get her into a dressing-gown.’

‘How shall I get back here?’ asked Cressida sensibly.

‘Well, I have to come home, don’t I?’ He went to the door. ‘I’ll go and see your stepmother while Miss Mogford gets you ready, and don’t waste time.’

‘The silver,’ said Cressida urgently, watching Moggy bundling it up, ‘I haven’t quite finished it.’

‘Pooh,’ said Miss Mogford, ‘that’s of no importance. Here’s your dressing-gown.’

Doctor Braddock came back presently and between them he and Miss Mogford carried Cressida down to the hall and out of the door, into his car. Mrs Preece came after them, on the verge of tears. ‘What am I to do?’ she asked pathetically. ‘There’s the table to arrange and the drinks and the flowers to do. Really, Cressida, I do think you’re being very selfish…’

No one answered her. The doctor and Moggy were too occupied in conveying Cressida as painlessly as possible and Cressida was gritting her teeth against the pain.

Dr Braddock drove off and as soon as she had control of her voice again she asked, ‘They won’t keep me long? I really should get back to help as quickly as I can. If I could be back by lunchtime? You’re awfully kind having given me a lift, Dr Braddock, but I expect you have to come back home for lunch.’

She wasn’t back for lunch, however; instead she found herself in one of the side-wards, comfortably in bed with a cradle over the injured ankle and the prospect of several days’ rest.

‘I really can’t,’ she explained to the cheerful house doctor who came to see her after she was warded. ‘I haven’t anything with me and there is a great deal I must do at home…’

‘Well, if you don’t rest that foot for a few days you won’t be doing anything at all at home or anywhere else. Dr Braddock is going to call and see your stepmother on his way home. I dare say she will come and see you and bring you anything you need.’

The very last thing that lady would do, but there was no point in saying so. Cressida murmured suitably and since the bed was comfortable and she had had an irksome morning she closed her eyes and took a nap.

Miss Mogford came that evening, carrying a small holdall with what she considered necessary for Cressida’s comfort while she was in hospital.

Cressida was delighted to see her, but worried too. ‘Moggy, however did you get away? It’s the dinner party too… is Stepmother very cross?’

‘Livid,’ said Miss Mogford, succinctly, ‘but Dr Braddock was quite sharp with her, told her she was responsible for you and I don’t know what else—I just happened to be passing through the hall and the door wasn’t quite closed—so when he’d gone she phoned a catering firm and they’re there now, seeing to everything. She told me to bring you what you needed here and I got the baker’s van to bring me.’

‘How will you get back?’

‘The van’s going back in an hour—the driver’s got the day off tomorrow.’

‘I don’t know how long I’m here for…’

‘I heard Dr Braddock say a couple of days, so you have a nice rest, Miss Cressida, and you’ll have to take things easy when you come home.’

‘Is my stepmother very annoyed?’

‘Well, she’s put out,’ said Miss Mogford, uttering the understatement of a lifetime.

It was surprising what two days at the hospital did for Cressida. Of course there were the painful physiotherapy sessions, but for a good deal of each day she sat, the injured ankle resting on a stool, reading the discarded magazines and newspapers of the other patients, racing through the romantic fiction the lady from the hospital library was kind enough to bring her. She didn’t turn up her unassuming nose at the food either; by the end of the second day she had colour in her cheeks and had put on a much-needed pound or two.

It was after breakfast on the following morning that the orthopaedic registrar came to tell her that she was fit enough to go home. ‘You must wear an elastic stocking for a couple of weeks and keep off your feet as much as possible, and mind you rest the ankle properly. Sister phoned your stepmother and she assures us that you will be well looked after. We’ll arrange for the hospital car service to pick you up after midday dinner today.’

Cressida thanked him and reflected that with a stocking and a stick she would be able to manage well enough. Indeed, she would have to…

She was sitting dressed and ready to leave, her ankle resting on the stool before her, when the door opened and Dr van der Linus walked in.

His greeting was genial. ‘I had to have a word with someone here and thought I would call and see how you are getting on. I hear you’re going home?’

‘Yes. I’m waiting for transport. I’m quite better again.’ She gave him a steady smile. ‘I’m most grateful for everything you did for me.’

‘Think nothing of it. I’m going past your home; I’ll take you if you’re ready to go. Just let me have a word with Sister…’ He had gone before she could answer.

On the way back he told her that he was going to London on the following day and then back to Holland. ‘I don’t expect to be back here for some time,’ he told her, and then casually, ‘Have you any plans for your future?’

‘No, none,’ said Cressida bleakly. Her look was sad. ‘At least not for some time.’

‘Ah, well,’ said the doctor easily, ‘I dare say you have your reasons for staying at home.’

‘Yes, I have. What will happen to the dog while you’re in London?’

He accepted the change of subject without demur. ‘He’s to stay at the vet’s. I will collect him when I leave England. He looks quite handsome, you know, although I’m not quite sure what he is. He’s young still, about six months, and still going to grow.’

‘You’ll have room for him at your home?’

‘Oh, yes.’ He stopped in front of her house and got out to help her.

‘Thank you very much,’ she said. ‘Would you like to come in and see my stepmother?’

The doctor smiled a little; it was obvious that she hoped that he would refuse. ‘Why not?’ he said cheerfully, and took her arm. ‘Use your stick,’ he counselled her, and, ‘Put your weight on your good foot and for heaven’s sake don’t stand about; sit when you can and keep your foot up.’

Miss Mogford had been on the watch for Cressida’s return. She opened the door wide, and her severe features softened into a smile. ‘There, that’s better. My goodness, a couple of days in hospital have done you a power of good, Miss Cressy—I swear you’ve put on a pound or two.’

‘Is my stepmother in?’ asked Cressida. ‘I’m sure Dr van der Linus—’

The rest of her words were lost in Mrs Preece’s voice, ‘Is that you, Cressida? And about time too. All this rubbish I’ve been hearing about this ankle of yours…’ A half-open door was thrust open and she came into the hall, caught sight of the doctor’s vast person and went on smoothly, ‘You poor child, have you had a lot of pain? I didn’t come to visit you for you know how sensitive I am about illness.’ She smiled at Dr van der Linus. ‘My nerves, you know—I’m a martyr to them.’ She turned to Cressida. ‘Run along upstairs, dear, I dare say you would like a rest. Miss Mogford shall bring you your tea presently.’

She turned her back on Cressida, ‘Tea is just made,’ she said to the doctor. ‘Do have a cup with me. I see so few people and you must tell me about Cressida’s ankle.’

He refused with a charm as smooth as her own. ‘I have an evening appointment and have still some distance to drive. Miss Preece should be all right now—a week or two keeping off the ankle and plenty of rest. But, of course, you will know what to do.’

He shook hands again and then turned to Cressida standing so quietly close by. ‘I am sure that Dr Braddock will be over to see you shortly. I’m glad that the damage wasn’t worse. I’ll take care of the dog.’

She smiled. ‘I’m sure you will and it’s very kind of you to have him. I hope you have a good journey home.’

He stared down at her—such a plain little face but such beautiful eyes, and despite her smile she was unhappy. Not surprisingly, he considered; he had a poor view of Mrs Preece.

Sitting opposite his grandmother that evening, he voiced his vague disquiet about Cressida. ‘The girl seems sensible enough,’ he observed, ‘and really one hardly expects the modern young woman to behave like Cinderella. Mrs Preece is someone that anyone with an ounce of good sense would get away from as quickly as possible.’

‘Then there must be a good reason for the girl to remain there. Have you any idea what it might be?’

‘None.’ He added, ‘I suppose there is no way of finding out?’

‘Well, of course there is; ask her.’

‘Perhaps I will. I must go up to town tomorrow but I’ll come down to say goodbye before I go over to Holland, my dear, and I’ll make time to see her then.’ He frowned. ‘Do you think I’m making a mountain out of a molehill? Probably I shall get short shrift…’

‘In that case you need do no more about it. On the other hand she may be longing to confide in someone.’

It was a week later when he came back to Lady Merrill’s and on a sudden impulse turned off the main road to go to Minton Cracknell. He was within half a mile of the village when he saw Cressida, walking awkwardly with a stick, going in the same direction as he was. He drew up beside her, and opened the door. His ‘Hello, can I give you a lift?’ was casually uttered and when she turned to look at him he was careful to stay casual. She had been crying, although she smiled now and thanked him politely.

‘That’s kind of you, but I walk a little way each day, you know—it’s good for me.’

The doctor said, ‘Get in, Cressida,’ in a gentle voice which none the less she felt compelled to obey. She got in.

‘Is your stepmother at home?’

She shook her head. ‘No. She goes to Bath to have her hair done. Did you want to see her?’

‘No. Why have you been crying, Cressida?’ He leaned across her and closed the door. ‘Supposing you tell me what is wrong? And I must beg you not to tell me that there is nothing wrong, because that is merely wasting time. Possibly you do not wish to confide in a friend but since we are unlikely to meet again you can safely unburden yourself to me.’

‘I don’t think,’ began Cressida doubtfully, ‘actually, that it would be of any interest to you.’

‘You are politely telling me that it is none of my business. Quite right, and all the more reason to talk to me. Since it is none of my business I shall give you no advice, nor shall I read you a lecture or tell you that none of it matters.’ He laid a great arm along the seat behind her shoulders. ‘Now let’s have it…’

It was hard to start, it had been all bottled up for so long, but once started Cressida was unable to stop. It all came pouring out. ‘It’s Moggy, you see,’ she explained. ‘If she leaves before she’s sixty she can’t have Father’s legacy and she depends on that for her old age…’

‘Have you seen the will…?’

‘No. Mr Tims, the solicitor, read it out to us but it was full of heretofores and those long words they use.’

‘Just supposing that there had been a misunderstanding about the terms of the legacy, Miss Mogford would be able to leave, would she not? And you would be free to leave home, knowing that her future was secure.’

Cressida gave a great sniff and he glanced at her. She hardly looked her best, her hair was all over the place, as far as he could judge she had no make-up on and her clothes were deplorable. He said very kindly, ‘It is likely that Miss Mogford hasn’t understood the conditions of the legacy. If that could be looked into she might find herself free to leave before she is sixty. Who exactly told her of this condition?’

‘My stepmother.’

The doctor frowned. Tiresome woman, and how on earth had he come to get involved in the business? All the same it seemed to him that he was the only one with a pair of scissors to cut the tangle. A pity that he would be leaving the country so soon…

‘Feel better?’ he asked.

‘Yes, thank you.’ She put a hand on the door-handle. ‘You’ve been very kind. I won’t keep you.’

His hand came down on hers, firm and warm. ‘The rest of the day is my own. I’ll drive you home.’

At the gates she asked him, ‘Would you like to come in? Moggy will make a pot of tea…’

He had got out of the car too and stood looking down at her. ‘I should have liked that but I’m going into Yeovil to collect the dog. Have you any ideas about a name?’

‘Well, no. Oughtn’t he to have a Dutch name since he’s to live in Holland?’

‘He is English; he should have a name which is common to both countries.’

‘Caesar?’

‘That would do very nicely. It will suit him, too; he bids fair to be a large beast when he is grown.’

Cressida put out a hand. ‘I’m so glad he’s going to be looked after. That’s wonderful; thank you again for all you’ve done. Goodbye.’

The hand holding hers felt reassuringly large and secure. She wished very much that the doctor wasn’t going away. He would forget her, of course, but knowing him even for such a short time had been pleasant.

He waited by the car until she reached the door and went inside, turning to give a final wave as she did so.

She didn’t tell Moggy about the will. First she would write to Mr Tims; it would never do to raise the dear soul’s hopes until she had heard from him. Over their tea they talked about the dog and the splendid home he would have when he travelled to Holland.

‘Lucky beast,’ said Miss Mogford with a good deal of feeling.

Dr van der Linus found his grandmother sitting in her high-backed armchair by a brisk fire. The weather was still fine and sunny, but, as she pointed out cheerfully, arthritis and old age needed warmth.

He bent to kiss her cheek. ‘My dear, you are one of those lucky people who never grow old; you’re really a very pretty lady, you know.’

‘Go on with you! Buttering me up… What have you been doing with yourself?’

‘Working.’ He sat down opposite her. ‘Grandmother, do you know of a Mr Tims of Sherborne?’

‘Of course I do. He is my solicitor, has been for years—must be all of seventy.’

‘Do you suppose he would allow me the sight of Mr Preece’s will?’

‘Been to see that girl again, have you?’ Lady Merrill’s old eyes twinkled with amusement.

‘I met her on the road as I was coming here. She looked like a small wet hen. I gave her a lift home and got her to talk. I fancy Mrs Preece has—shall we say?—misunderstood the terms of the will…’ He explained briefly and his grandmother nodded in quick understanding.

‘So if she has been misleading the girl and the housekeeper things can be put right, the housekeeper can leave and the girl will be free to find herself a job.’ Her old face puckered in thought. ‘What kind of a job would a wet hen be able to get?’

The doctor laughed. ‘I think that if she were free and independent she might begin to look like any other girl. Have you any ideas?’

‘I’ll think about it. Go and phone George Tims and then come and play cribbage?’

Mr Tims was co-operative. The doctor might pop in any time he chose during the next day. Dr van der Linus went back to the drawing-room and bent his powerful mind to the problem of allowing his grandmother to win without her suspecting it.

Undoubtedly there had been a misunderstanding, Mr Tims assured the doctor the following morning; Miss Mogford was free to leave when she wished and would receive her legacy without delay. ‘Mrs Preece will miss her; she has been with the family for many years and will be hard to replace. Mrs Preece is a delicate lady, unable to do a great deal, but of course she will have Cressida—such a sensible girl.’

The doctor agreed blandly and drove back to the house. The little wet hen deserved a chance. She was, he supposed, possessed of the normal skills of a well-educated girl; she should have no difficulty in getting herself a job, but what as? She knew nothing about computers; he felt sure of that. Probably she couldn’t type or do shorthand, and she would be no good as a nurse; far too small for a start and with far too soft a heart. Not that he approved of nurses who didn’t have soft hearts, that was a vital part of being a decent nurse—but he suspected that she would allow personal sympathy with the patient to supplant nursing expertise. It would have to be something around the house, he thought vaguely. Were there companions nowadays? He wasn’t sure, but there were au pairs from whom all that was required was common sense, an ability to do chores around the house, like children and animals and be willing to babysit. He knew that; various of his married friends had them. She would have a roof over her head too…

He was turning in at Lady Merrill’s gate when he found the answer.

Over dinner he told his grandmother what he had in mind. ‘I shall want your help, my dear,’ he added.

Lady Merrill listened carefully. ‘This is really rather fun. You do realise that I shall have to do this through a third person? I cannot appear on Mrs Preece’s doorstep out of the blue. Let me see, Audrey Sefton knows her. Leave it to me, Aldrik. Is the girl presentable?’

He leaned back in his chair. ‘She has a pretty voice and nice manners. Beautiful eyes and no looks. I suppose dressed in the right clothes she would do very well in the most exacting of households.’

‘Yes, dear—but how does she get these clothes if she has no money?’

‘I’ll see Mr Tims. A small sum held in some sort of reserve for her use or something similar.’

His grandmother gave him a sharp look. ‘You’re going to a great deal of trouble, my dear. She would probably get herself some sort of work if she were left to do so.’

‘Oh, I’m sure she would. I shall be going up to Friesland in any case and I’ll see Charity and Tyco. Charity might like company for a few months, at least until the baby is born, and that will give Cressida time to look around and decide what she wants to do.’

‘Yes, dear? Will you stay up there?’

‘I’ve no appointments there until the middle of the month. I’m tied up in Leiden almost as soon as I get back. That will give me a chance to see something of Nicola…’

‘I’m sure she will be pleased to see you again. There’s nothing definite, I suppose, dear?’

‘No, Grandmother. We are both sensible people; a deep regard and a full knowledge of each other’s character seems to me to be essential before marrying.’ It sounded pompous but he disarmed her with a grin.

His grandmother gave him a loving look. He was her very favourite grandchild and she wanted him to be happy. He loved his work as a consultant physician and he was very successful. He had money, friends, and those who worked for him liked him. All very well, she thought, but he has no idea what it is like to be in love. Nicola was a cold fish, elegant and witty and wanting, Lady Merrill suspected, only a secure place in her comfortable world, never mind the romance.

He left the next day, promising to come and see her as soon as he could spare a few days. ‘I’ll be driving Mama over before Christmas,’ he promised her.

Two days later Mrs Preece came down to breakfast looking annoyed. ‘So vexing—I had planned to go into Yeovil and do some shopping; now that wretched Mr Tims wants to call this morning. Hurry up and eat your breakfast, Cressida, and get a tray ready. If he doesn’t stay I’ll still have time to go. Bring the coffee as soon as he gets here.’

Cressida went to the kitchen, laid a tray for coffee and told Miss Mogford, ‘Half-past ten, he said in his letter. She didn’t tell me why, papers to sign, I expect.’

Mr Tims arrived punctually and Mrs Preece, eager to get to Yeovil, didn’t keep him waiting. Cressida carried in the coffee, wished him a cheerful good morning and made for the door.

‘What I have to say concerns both Cressida and Miss Mogford, Mrs Preece. I should like them both to be here if you would be so kind.’

Mrs Preece flashed him a look quite lacking in kindness. ‘Really, Mr Tims, is this necessary? They are both busy around the house.’

Mr Tims looked at her over his spectacles. ‘It is necessary, Mrs Preece.’

So Cressida fetched Miss Mogford and they sat awkwardly side by side on one of the big sofas, wondering what on earth was going to happen next.

Mr Tims cleared his throat and opened his briefcase. ‘I was looking through Mr Preece’s papers very recently and it occurs to me that there may have been a misunderstanding concerning Miss Mogford’s legacy. According to the will she is entitled to claim it whenever she wishes; she may in fact leave as soon as she wants and the money will be paid to her. There is no question of her having to remain in service until she is sixty. I believe that was the impression given her at the time of the reading of the will; mistakenly of course.’

Miss Mogford said gruffly. ‘You really mean that? I can pack my bags and go and still have the legacy?’ She looked at Mrs Preece. ‘Madam told me that I would have to stay or I wouldn’t get the money.’

Mrs Preece hastily adjusted her features into a look of apologetic regret. ‘Oh, dear, I’m sure that was never intended. Silly me, I never have been any good at this kind of thing.’

She smiled charmingly at Mr Tims, who said politely, ‘Well, no harm done, I imagine.’ He turned to Cressida. ‘If at any future time you should decide to leave home, I am entrusted with a small sum of money, sufficient, I trust, to start you off in whatever venture you may consider.’

‘Oh, Cressida would never dream of leaving me,’ said Mrs Preece quickly. ‘My nerves, you know. It is essential that I have someone to take care of me and she is very used to that.’

Cressida said nothing, merely thanked Mr Tims and offered him more coffee. He refused, and said that he had another client to see in the neighbourhood, and Miss Mogford got up to show him out. Mrs Preece bade him goodbye in a cold voice—he hadn’t shown her the sympathy she had expected—and Cressida shook hands, saying nothing but looking at him with eyes alight with damped-down excitement. By jove, thought Mr Tims, those lovely eyes of hers made a man forget her ordinary looks.

When he had gone Mrs Preece said sharply, ‘Of course there is no question of your going, Miss Mogford. I’m quite prepared to give you a bigger wage, and after all this has been your home for years.’

Moggy’s severe features became even more severe. ‘You pay me weekly, Mrs Preece. I’m giving you a week’s notice as from today.’

She turned on her heel and marched briskly back to the kitchen, leaving Mrs Preece speechless. But not for long!

‘The wretch, after all I’ve done for her. Go after her, Cressida, and tell her she must stay. What am I to do without a housekeeper?’ Tears of self-pity rolled down her carefully made-up cheeks.

Cressida, a-fire with the prospect of freedom, sat down on the arm of a chair. ‘No, I won’t tell Moggy anything of the sort,’ she said calmly. ‘You’ve never done anything for her and you can get another housekeeper.’

Mrs Preece’s eyes bulged. ‘Cressida, have you taken leave of your senses? How dare you talk to me like that, after all I’ve…?’

She stopped because Cressida was smiling. ‘I’m going too, Stepmother.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. What will you do? And you’ve no money.’

‘I’m very experienced in housework and Mr Tims said that there was a little money.’

‘Rubbish. No one will employ you.’ Mrs Preece changed her tactics. ‘If you will stay, Cressida, I’ll make you an allowance. I’ll get another housekeeper and you can train her. I simply cannot manage without someone to run this house. My nerves…’ She gave Cressida a wan smile. ‘What would your father have said?’

‘He would have told me to pack my bags and go,’ said Cressida promptly.

Cressida lay awake for a long time that night. She intended to leave at the same time as Moggy although just for the moment she had no idea as to what she would do. London, she supposed vaguely; surely there would be work of some sort there. If she had a roof over her head she could save most of her wages and then train for something, she wasn’t sure what. But to be free and live her own life—she uttered a sigh of pure content and fell asleep.

In the light of early morning she lost some of the euphoria. She wasn’t sure if she had enough money to get to London, for a start—she would have to see Mr Tims—and when she got there, then where would she go? This was something which would have to be settled before she left home; she was a practical girl; to arrive in London with no notion of where she was to lay her head that night was bird-witted. Something would have to be done about that.

Something was. Mrs Preece, sitting languidly in her drawing-room, refusing to do anything about rearranging her household, declaring that she felt ill enough to take to her bed, was forced to pull herself together when Miss Mogford came to tell her that she had a caller: Mrs Sefton, who lived some miles from Minton Cracknell but whom she had met on various occasions at other people’s houses. She didn’t like the lady overmuch; overbearing, she considered, with an amused contempt for weak nerves and women who couldn’t do the washing-up for themselves. That she lived in a large house, well-staffed and well-run, had nothing to say to the matter; Mrs Sefton was perfectly capable of running the place single-handed if it were necessary and that without a single grumble.

She breezed into the room now and bade her reluctant hostess good morning. Her voice wasn’t loud but had a penetrating ring to it, so that Mrs Preece closed her eyes for a moment.

‘A lovely morning,’ declared Mrs Sefton. ‘You should be out. There’s the autumn fête at Watly House this afternoon—aren’t you going?’

Mrs Preece said faintly that no, she didn’t think she felt well enough.

‘Well, you look all right,’ said Mrs. Sefton.

‘My nerves, you know.’

Mrs Sefton, who had never quite discovered what nerves, when mentioned by their possessor, meant, ignored this.

‘I’m here to ask a favour. That gel of yours, Cressida, I’ve a job for her…’

‘She doesn’t need a job,’ said Mrs Preece, sitting up smartly.

‘I know someone who needs her—an old friend of mine, Lady Merrill, desperately needs a companion for a few weeks while her permanent companion has a holiday.’ Mrs Sefton, pleased with her fabrication, added in ringing tones, ‘Not much to do you know—just a few chores. She’s just the one for it. I’m sure you can manage without her—I don’t suppose you see much of her anyway, she goes out a good deal I dare say.’

‘Cressida likes to stay at home with me,’ said Mrs. Preece sourly.

‘Does she? In that case she’ll know just what to do for Lady Merrill. She lives north of Sherborne, quite easy to get at—just the other side of Charlton Horethorne.’

Miss Mogford came in with the coffee and Mrs Preece poured it with a shaking hand. ‘I’m quite sure that Cressida won’t wish to leave me,’ she said in a die-away voice.

‘Well, let’s have her in to speak for herself,’ said Mrs Sefton. She stopped Moggy on her way to the door. ‘Ask Miss Preece to come here, will you?’

Mrs Preece opened her mouth to say something tart about guests giving orders in someone else’s house and then thought better of it. Mrs Sefton was well known and liked in the county and she was known to give her unvarnished opinion of anyone or anything she didn’t approve of. Moggy hurried back to the kitchen where Cressida was making the junket Mrs Preece ate each day—it was supposed to keep the skin youthful, she had been told.

‘Drop that, Miss Cressida,’ said Moggy urgently, ‘you’re to go to the drawing-room, there’s a Mrs Sefton there, wants to see you.’

‘Why?’ asked Cressida. ‘The junket will curdle…’

‘Drat the junket. Your stepmother is in a rage so be careful.’

Cressida might be a plain girl but she was graceful and self-possessed. She greeted Mrs Sefton, grudgingly introduced by Mrs Preece, in a quiet voice, and sat down.

‘I’ve a job for you, my dear,’ said Mrs Sefton, not beating about the bush. ‘An old lady—a great friend of mine—is in need of a companion for a few weeks and I thought of you. Would you care to take it on?’

‘You can’t leave me, Cressida,’ said Mrs. Preece in a fading voice, ‘I shall be ill; besides, it is your place to stay here with me.’

Cressida gave her a thoughtful look and turned sparkling blue eyes upon their visitor. ‘I should like to come very much,’ she said composedly. ‘I have been planning to find a job now that our housekeeper is leaving. When would this lady want me to start?’

Mrs Sefton, primed as to when Miss Mogford was leaving, was ready with an answer. ‘Would Thursday be too soon?’

‘That is quite impossible,’ observed Mrs Preece. ‘I have had no replies to my advertisement for a housekeeper and Miss Mogford leaves on the same day. Cressida must stay until I find someone to run the house for me.’

‘Oh, surely you can manage to do that yourself?’ asked Mrs Sefton. ‘I dare say you have outside help from the village?’

Mrs Preece had to admit that she had.

‘Well, then, get them to come more often,’ said Mrs Sefton cheerfully. ‘I dare say you might feel much better if you had something to do.’ She smiled in a condescending manner at her hostess. ‘And do come to the fête; there’s nothing like having an outside interest, you know.’

She got to her feet. ‘So be ready on Thursday, Cressida—you don’t mind if I call you that? Someone will fetch you directly after lunch.’

She looked at Mrs Preece who wished her a feeble goodbye. ‘You must excuse me from getting up,’ she whispered dramatically. ‘The shock, you know…’

‘Well, I don’t know,’ said Mrs Sefton, ‘for I didn’t realise that you’d had one. I dare say we shall meet. Do you go out at all socially? I have seen you on several occasions at dinner parties and were you not in Bath last week? At the Royal Crescent, dining with the Croftons? Cressida was not with you?’

‘Oh, yes—a long-standing engagement. Cressida hates going out, she is very much a home girl.’

Mrs Sefton raised her eyebrows. ‘Then in that case, this little job will give her a taste of the outside world, will it not?’

With which parting shot Mrs Sefton took herself off.

Mrs Preece wept and cajoled and threatened for the rest of that day but to no good purpose. Moggy was adamant about leaving, she packed her things and then went to help Cressida with hers. ‘I can’t think why you stayed, Miss Cressida, you could have gone months ago…’

‘I wasn’t going to leave you here, Moggy,’ was all Cressida would say.

Miss Mogford stared at her, her arms full of clothes. ‘So that’s why you’ve put up with your stepmother’s tantrums. I’ll not forget that, love. If ever you need help or a home or just someone to talk to, I’ll be there waiting and don’t you forget it.’

Cressida put down the shoes she was polishing and cast her arms around Miss Mogford. ‘Moggy, you are a darling, and I’ll remember that and I promise that I’ll come to you if I need help or advice or a bed. I shall miss you.’

Moggy’s stern countenance softened. ‘I shall miss you too after all this time. It hasn’t been easy, has it? But everything’ll come right now. You really want to go to this old lady?’

‘Yes, oh, yes, I do. It’s a start, I can get a reference from her and I suppose I’ll get paid—I forgot to ask—I’ll save all I can and besides Mr Tims said there was a little money for me. I’d better go and see him tomorrow… No, I’ll phone, he can send the money here.’

She wrapped her shoes carefully and put them into the shabby suitcase. ‘We’d better go and start dinner. Stepmother’s alone this evening.’

‘Well, don’t let her put upon you,’ advised Miss Mogford firmly.

Cressida turned eyes shining like stars upon her companion. ‘I won’t, Moggy, never again.’