Читать книгу An Ideal Wife - Бетти Нилс - Страница 3

IT WAS six o’clock on a glorious June morning and the sun was already shining from a blue sky. But it wasn’t sunshine which woke Louisa, it was a persistent thumping on the door knocker and presently the doorbell.

She sat up and peered at the clock by the bed. Far too early for the postman, and the milkman had no reason to make such a racket. She turned over and closed her eyes, still not quite awake, and then shot up in bed as the knocker was thumped again. She got out of bed then, flung on a dressing gown and went quickly downstairs. Whoever it was must be stopped before her stepmother was awakened, besides, neighbours living decorously in the quiet little street would complain.

She unbolted the door and was confronted by a man tall and broad enough to blot out the street beyond him. She had the impression of good looks and angry blue eyes as he spoke.

‘And about time, too. Must I stand here for ever, banging on your door?’

‘Not unless you want to. Are you drunk or something? It’s barely six o’clock in the morning.’

He didn’t look drunk, she reflected. His clothes were casual—trousers and a thin pullover—and he needed a shave. Louisa, who had a vivid imagination, wondered if he was an escaped prisoner on the run.

‘What do you want?’ she added stupidly. ‘And go away, do.’

‘I do not want anything and I am only too anxious to go away, but if you will look behind that bay tree beside the door you will see someone whom I presume belongs to you. She was half in and half out of your gate.’

Louisa nipped down the steps and peered round the tub. ‘Oh, Lord, it’s Biddy.’

She glanced at the man. ‘Our housekeeper.’ She bent to touch Biddy’s cheek. ‘She’s all right?’

‘She appears to be suffering a severe migraine. Be good enough to open the door wide and I will carry her in.’

Louisa pattered ahead on her bare feet, down the elegant little hall, into the kitchen and through the door at the end into the spare room. She flung back the counterpane and covered Biddy after he laid her on the bed.

‘I’d better get our doctor …’

‘No need. Let her sleep it off.’

He was already walking away, and she hurried to keep up with him.

‘Well, thank you very much. It was kind of you to stop. I hope it hasn’t made you late for work.’

He didn’t answer, only walked through the hall and out of the door without looking round.

‘You have no need to be so ill-tempered,’ said Louisa, and closed the door smartly on his broad back. If she had stayed for a moment she would have seen him cross the street and get into the Bentley standing there, but she went back to see Biddy, putting the kettle on as she went.

An hour later Louisa went upstairs to dress. Biddy would be fit for nothing for quite a few hours; Louisa would have to wake her stepmother before she left for work and break the news to her that she would have to get her own breakfast.

Downstairs once more, Louisa crammed down cornflakes and tea while she got early morning tea for her stepmother and then nipped upstairs once again.

Her stepmother’s bedroom was shrouded in semi-darkness, cluttered with discarded clothes and redolent of an overpowering scent. Louisa pulled back the curtains and put her tray down beside the bed.

She said, ‘Good morning, Felicity,’ in a voice nicely calculated to rouse the supine figure on the bed. ‘Biddy isn’t well. She’s in bed, and I don’t think she’ll feel well enough to get up for the rest of the day. I’ve brought you your tea and laid breakfast for you in the kitchen.’

Mrs Howarth moaned softly and dragged herself up against her pillows.

‘Louisa, must you come bouncing in like this? You know how delicate my nerves are. And what’s all this about Biddy? Of course she’s not ill. How am I supposed to manage without her? You’ll have to stay home …’

Louisa looked at her stepmother who was still an attractive woman, even with her hair in rollers and no make-up. ‘Sorry. Sir James is booked solid all day and his nurses won’t have a moment to answer phone calls and check in the patients. You can go out to lunch. I’ll be home around six o’clock, and we can have a meal then. I dare say Biddy will be all right again by tomorrow. A migraine,’ said Louisa.

‘You could have brought me my breakfast,’ complained Mrs Howarth.

‘I’m just off,’ Louisa told her. ‘I’ll take a quick look at Biddy before I go.’

Biddy was awake, feeling sorry for herself. ‘Miss Louisa, I dunno how I got here …’

‘well, you got as far as the gate,’ said Louisa. ‘Someone passing saw you and thumped the knocker.’

‘The missus didn’t hear?’

‘No, no. I told her that you were very poorly. Once your head’s better, you’ll be quite yourself again.’

‘Bless you, Miss Louisa. I got an awful ‘eadache.’

‘Yes, but it will get better, Biddy. Try and go to sleep again. I’ve put some milk here by your bed and some dry biscuits.’ She stooped and kissed the elderly cheek. ‘Poor old Biddy. I must fly or I’ll get the sack.’

‘You ought not to be working,’ said Biddy. ‘There’s money enough; spends it all on herself, she does. It ain’t fair.’

‘Don’t worry about it, Biddy. I like my job, and I meet lots of interesting people.’

‘You ought ter ‘ave a young man …’

‘No time,’ said Louisa cheerfully. ‘Now, have another nap, Biddy, and don’t try and get up—whatever Mrs Howarth says.’

Louisa caught her usual bus by the skin of her teeth, raced up Castle Street as fast as she dared without actually running, and hurried through the dignified portals of Sir James Wilberforce’s consulting rooms. She heaved a sigh of relief as she opened the waiting room door; it was empty save for a pretty girl in nurse’s uniform who was putting down the phone as Louisa crossed the room.

‘You’re late,’ Jilly said unnecessarily. ‘He wants you in there as soon as you arrive.’ She added at Louisa’s questioning look, ‘He’s in a good mood.’

Louisa tapped at the door of the consulting room and was bidden in Sir James’s fruity voice to enter. He was standing looking out of his window, but turned to look at her as she went in. He was a short, stout man with a wealth of silver hair and a round face with small, bright eyes. His patients loved him despite his forthright manner.

He wasn’t alone. The man standing beside Sir James turned when he did and gave Louisa a cool stare. Immaculate in his sober grey suit and silk tie, he looked very different from the man who had thumped the door knocker so fiercely that morning. Well, not different, thought Louisa, only the clothes. He was just as tall, his person was just as vast, and his eyes just as cold.

Sir James peered at her over his glasses. ‘Good morning, Miss Howarth. I mustn’t keep you from your work, but I must make you known to Dr Gifford. He is to become my part-time partner, taking over when I am on holiday or called away for any length of time. We shall see him once or twice a week, and you will work for him as you do for me.’

He beamed at her, and she realised that she was expected to show some sort of pleased acquiescence.

‘I’ll do my best,’ said Louisa inadequately, and stared at Dr Gifford’s waistcoat. ‘How do you do?’

He said smoothly, ‘I’m sure that Miss Howarth and I will work well together.’

Sir James said cheerfully, ‘Oh, I’m sure you will. She is most reliable—a splendid worker. Not easily put out either.’ He chuckled. ‘Copes with emergencies …’

Louisa shot a look at Dr Gifford. He was smiling. She didn’t much care for the smile. She said rather tartly, ‘Fortunately, these occur very rarely.’

‘Ah, well,’ said Sir James cheerfully. ‘One never knows what lies round the corner. Thank you, Miss Howarth; I expect you will wish to get on with your work.’

Louisa murmured and slid away. For a big girl she was very light and quick on her feet. Dr Gifford, listening gravely to his colleague’s observations, considered her at his leisure. Big, but beautiful with it. All that tawny hair piled up in a rather haphazard arrangement, that lovely face with its wide grey eyes, haughty little nose and too large mouth which lifted at its corners, and a nasty temper when roused, he reflected.

Louisa went back to her desk and began the day’s work: answering the phone, booking patients, greeting them with just the right amount of friendly sympathy they hoped for, offering them cups of coffee, cheering the faint-hearted, providing the social side of the practice while Mrs Grant, Sir James’s head practice nurse, dealt with the more tiresome aspects of it. They got on well together, she and Louisa. Mrs Grant was a motherly woman, and she was comfortably plump with a bright rosy-cheeked face and iron-grey hair.

Louisa sat down at her desk, and since there were no patients for the moment Mrs Grant popped out of her little treatment room.

‘Jilly’s gone for coffee,’ she said. ‘She may be pretty but, my goodness, she’s slow. What was all that about? Sir James introduced me to Dr Gifford; he looks nice enough.’

‘I’m sure he’s a very pleasant kind of man,’ said Louisa, not meaning a word of it. ‘Jilly must be delighted …’

Mrs Grant cast her a shrewd look. ‘Jilly is delighted with anyone wearing trousers. I suppose a pretty face is good for the practice.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘You’re pretty enough for several Jillys …’

Louisa said without conceit, ‘But I’m big, aren’t I? Men like wispy girls.’

Mrs Grant laughed. ‘Not all of them, love. My Ronny settled on me, didn’t he? And I’m not exactly sylph-like, am I?’

Jilly came back then, and Louisa, sitting watching her as she came into the room, had to admit that she was extremely pretty. Probably some of the younger patients, especially the men, found her very attractive.

‘Well, what did you think of him?’ she asked Louisa.

‘Dr Gifford? Well, he must be a good man if Sir James wants him for a partner. We didn’t speak, only to say how do you do.’

‘Oh, I know he must be a good doctor,’ said Jilly impatiently. ‘But didn’t you think he was frightfully good looking? And he smiled …’

‘Why shouldn’t he smile?’ asked Louisa matter-of-factly, and then added, ‘I must get on; Mrs Wyatt’s due in five minutes.’

Jilly wasn’t to be put off. ‘Don’t you like men? Haven’t you got a boyfriend?’

‘Well, of course I like men. And I do have a boyfriend. Now, do let me get on …’

She began sorting the morning’s work—patients’ notes, phone calls to make, accounts to deal with. She turned to the computer and stared into its blank face. She wasn’t sure that Percy would like to be described as a boyfriend. It would be beneath his dignity, and smacked of a relationship which he would never tolerate. Nor would she, for that matter—not that he had ever asked her opinion.

Percy, an inch shorter than she was, would have liked to call her his ‘little woman’, only great strapping girls such as she could never be that. It was a pity that he had taken it into his head that her continued refusal to marry him was merely what he called ‘womanly wiles’. Once or twice she had longed to give him a good thump and tell him to find some meek girl who wouldn’t answer him back, but she had been well brought up—there were some things one just didn’t do.

She sighed, and then smiled nicely as the next patient came in.

The last one went two hours later and Sir James went away to do his hospital rounds, taking Dr Gifford with him and leaving a pile of letters on Louisa’s desk.

‘See to that lot, Miss Howarth. Leave them on my desk and make out the cheques. Oh, and bank the cheques that have been paid, will you? I shall be back some time this afternoon.’

She watched Dr Gifford’s broad shoulders disappear through the door; he had given her a thoughtful look and said nothing, but she hadn’t expected him to. Before starting on the letters, she allowed herself to wonder if he disliked her. Hopefully she wouldn’t see much of him. She wondered where he had a practice, and later, over their lunch sandwiches, she asked Mrs Grant if she knew.

‘Didn’t Sir James tell you? A country practice not too far from here. Blandford way. Took it over when his father retired. Very rural, apparently, but lovely country.’

She bit into a cheese sandwich. ‘He’s well thought of, so I’m told.’

‘Married?’ asked Jilly, pausing on her way home. She only worked in the mornings, and did that halfheartedly. Louisa thought that Sir James employed her because she was young and pretty and that was what the patients liked. That she was pretty herself, even if she was twenty-seven, was something she didn’t regard.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Mrs Grant. ‘But don’t waste your time on him, Jilly, he’s as good as—to the Thornfolds’ youngest daughter. It’ll be a grand wedding.’

‘Will she like being a GP’s wife?’ asked Louisa.

‘If she loves him then she will,’ declared Mrs Grant.

Not an easy man to love, reflected Louisa, and began to tidy up before going back to her desk.

When she got home again that evening she found Biddy on her feet once more, looking very much the worse for wear but nonetheless preparing dinner.

‘Your Mr Witherspoon’s coming,’ she told Louisa. ‘So the missus told me to do something special.’

‘He’s not mine,’ said Louisa crossly. ‘And why must he have something special?’

‘Dunno, Miss Louisa. The missus is ‘aving a rest; tired out after the ‘airdresser’s.’

Biddy spoke without rancour. Mrs Howarth was no longer young, but she was still very attractive, even beautiful when she had her make-up on and her hair freshly dressed. Louisa agreed cheerfully; she got on well enough with her stepmother although there was no affection between them. Felicity was selfish and lazy and extravagant, but she was easygoing, too, and good company, and she could be very appealing, with her charming smile and her look of helplessness. And she was small and slender so that Louisa always felt at a disadvantage—overlarge and clumsy, conscious of her generously built person.

It was a nuisance that Percy would be coming to dinner. He had begun to take it for granted that he was welcome whenever he chose to invite himself.

She had known him for some years, and really, she had to admit, there was nothing wrong with him. A young lawyer with a secure future, he was a bit on the short side but not bad-looking and an agreeable companion. But not for life—in ten years he would be pompous and, she suspected, mean with money. But her stepmother approved of him, and Louisa, for the sake of peace, had never told her that Percy had proposed several times and she had refused him. Not that that stopped him …

As she changed into a dress and piled her hair she decided that if he proposed again she would make him understand once and for all that she wouldn’t marry him. She had never encouraged him, indeed she had discouraged him as nicely as possible without actually being rude. And a lot of good that had done …

Her stepmother was in the drawing room, leafing through a magazine. As usual she was beautifully dressed, her blonde hair expertly tinted, her face exquisitely made up. She looked up as Louisa went in.

‘Hello, darling. Had a busy day? Why are you wearing that dull dress? It makes you look positively elderly. Whatever will Percy think?’

Louisa went to the window and opened it. It overlooked a small garden at the back of the house, and beyond that there was a splendid view of the cathedral spire. She said flatly, ‘I don’t dress to please Percy.’

She turned to look at her stepmother. ‘Felicity, I don’t intend to marry him, you know. He takes it for granted and so do you, and I’ve tried to be polite about it …’

‘But, darling, he’s so safe, and you would never have to worry about anything.’

‘I don’t want to be safe. I don’t love him.’

‘There are many things more important than love,’ said Mrs Howarth sharply. ‘Security and a nice house, holidays and decent clothes.’

‘Is that why you married Father?’ asked Louisa.

‘I was very fond of your father,’ said Mrs Howarth a bit too quickly. ‘And, of course, before he lost that money we had a very pleasant home and I lacked for nothing.’ She added wistfully, ‘It’s hard to live as I do now. Genteel poverty, I believe it is called.’

Louisa didn’t reply. Her stepmother lived in some comfort and grudged herself nothing. She made no bones about accepting a generous slice of Louisa’s salary for, as she pointed out in a reasonable voice, Louisa enjoyed living in the same comfort in a pleasant house, having Biddy to see to the running of it and eating the good food provided. The fact that Louisa did quite a lot of the housework, helped with the cooking and quite often did the shopping as well were facts which escaped her attention.

Louisa had asked her once how she would manage if she were to marry, and Mrs Howarth had said airily, ‘Oh, my dear, I shall be quite all right; Percy will make sure of that.’

Watching him now, coming into the room, Louisa remembered that. He was still in his thirties, but already staid and with a well-nourished look which she reflected would turn into a portly middle age. He was quite good-looking and very correct in his dress, and she knew that she could never marry him. He wasn’t her kind of man. Her kind of man was utterly different. A sudden memory of Dr Gifford took her by surprise and she blushed faintly, which was unfortunate as Percy took it as a compliment for his appearance.

He had brought flowers with him and a bottle of wine, which he offered with a smug smile, confident of his thoughtfulness and their gratitude.

He kissed the cheek Mrs Howarth offered and crossed the room to where Louisa was standing by the window. ‘Hello, old lady—that’s a charming dress, and you’re as beautiful as ever.’

Old lady, indeed! She turned her cheek so that his kiss barely brushed it, and took the carnations he offered. She said, ‘Thank you for the flowers, Percy,’ and then added, ‘I’ll go and see if Biddy wants any help.’

When she had gone, Mrs Howarth said placatingly, ‘She’s shy, you know. I’ll leave you together after dinner.’ They smiled at each other, and as Louisa came back into the room they began to discuss the weather.

Biddy, still with something of a headache, had done her best, but the soup was too salty, the lamb chops slightly charred and the pudding bore a strong resemblance to a deep-frozen dessert. Percy, who prided himself on being a gourmet, ate with an air of martyred distaste while he enlarged at some length upon the political situation.

Louisa, brought up by an old-fashioned nanny, assumed her politely listening face and said, ‘Really?’ or ‘Is that so?’ at intervals, which was all that Percy required; the sound of his own voice was sufficient for him.

Louisa, munching petits pois which had been over-cooked, allowed her thoughts to wander. Where did Dr Gifford live? she wondered. She didn’t like him, she reminded herself, but he looked interesting.

She caught Percy’s eye and made the mistake of smiling at him, and her stepmother said at once, ‘We’ll have coffee in the drawing room. I’ll go and tell Biddy.’

‘I’ll go,’ said Louisa, hopeful of a few minutes’ respite from Percy’s ardent gaze.

‘No, no, dear. Take Percy along to the drawing room and I’ll join you in a moment.’

The drawing room was a pleasant place, and the very last of the sun cast mellow shadows over its furniture. Louisa went to open another window and said over her shoulder, ‘Sit down, do, Percy.’

But he had come to stand behind her, much too close for her liking.

‘My dear girl, you have no idea how I have been longing to get you on your own. I’ve given you plenty of time to make up your mind, although I’m sure that you have done so already—after all, I’m not such a bad catch!’ He laughed at his little joke, and Louisa ground her splendid teeth. ‘I can manage to be free in September; we could marry then.’

Louisa slid away from him and sat down in a little Victorian crinoline chair. ‘Percy, before you say another word, I don’t want to marry you. If that sounds rude and unkind, I’m sorry, but it makes it clear, doesn’t it? Once and for all.’

‘Why not?’ He sounded huffy but not heartbroken.

‘I don’t love you.’

He laughed. ‘You silly girl, of course you do. Only you won’t admit it.’

She stared at him. How did one make anyone as conceited as Percy understand something they didn’t want to know?

‘No, I don’t. If I did, I would have said so ages ago.’ She added, ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Percy. We’ve known each other for a long time, haven’t we? And we can still be friends, if you wish. You’ll meet a girl who’ll fall for you, and you’ll be happy ever after.’

Percy stood in the middle of the room, looking at her. ‘I have no wish to be your friend,’ he said ponderously. ‘Indeed, from what I have seen of your present behaviour, I consider that you would be quite unworthy of my friendship.’

Louisa goggled at him. He sounded like someone out of a Victorian novel, only worse. She said briskly, ‘Oh, well, that settles that, doesn’t it? Will you stay for coffee?’

It was entirely in character that he should agree. Anyone else—any man—other than Percy would have made some excuse and cut short the evening. But not Percy. His coffee, apparently, was more important to him than any awkwardness she might be feeling.

‘Well, if you are going to stay, sit down,’ she begged. ‘Isn’t the weather glorious? I love June, don’t you? Not too hot and the garden beginning to look lovely—if you have a garden.’

Percy sat, arranging his trousers just so, in order that the creases wouldn’t be spoilt. ‘You have no need to make conversation, Louisa. I am deeply hurt, and trivial talk is hardly going to assuage that.’

Only Percy could talk like that. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? Perhaps because she had known him for so long.

She said flippantly, ‘I thought it was the girl who felt hurt.’

He gave her a look. ‘Only you, Louisa …’

He was interrupted by Mrs Howarth’s entry, with Biddy behind her carrying the coffee tray.

‘You’ve had your little talk?’ she asked. ‘Always so nice to clear the air.’

‘Oh, we’ve done that,’ said Louisa promptly. ‘I’ve finally persuaded Percy that I won’t do for his wife.’

Mrs Howarth gave a little trill of laughter. ‘Oh, darling, isn’t it time that you stopped being hard to get? Percy has had the patience of a saint …’

Louisa took the tray from Biddy and set it down on the small table beside her stepmother’s chair. ‘Felicity, you’ve been reading too many old-fashioned novels. I’m not a shrinking damsel of seventeen, you know.’ She looked at Percy. ‘I expect that’s the reason that I don’t want to marry you, Percy. I’m too old for you, and I don’t know how to shrink!’

‘I don’t understand you, Louisa. Such flippancy about a solemn thing such as marriage.’ He held out his cup for more coffee. ‘I find the whole conversation distasteful.’

‘You do? So do I, but I’m glad we’ve had it. I thought I knew you very well, but not well enough, it seems. Now I do.’

Mrs Howarth spoke sharply. ‘Louisa, how can you be so unkind to Percy? Really, I’m quite shocked and upset.’

‘Well, I can’t think why,’ said Louisa sensibly. ‘I’ve told you that I have no wish to marry Percy. And I’ve told him a dozen times.’

Percy got to his feet. ‘It is better that I do go, I think.’ He managed to sound sad and yet at the same time maintained what Louisa took to be a stiff upper lip.

‘Never mind, Percy. You’re well rid of me, you know.’ She offered a hand and he took it reluctantly and heaved a sigh.

‘I shall always have happy memories of you, Louisa—until today, of course.’

He took a sorrowful leave of Mrs Howarth then, and Louisa went to the front door with him. She should be feeling guilty, she supposed, but what she felt was a sense of freedom.

When she went back to the drawing room her stepmother said angrily, ‘You’re a fool, Louisa. You’re not a young girl any more; you can’t afford to be choosy.’

‘Yes, I can. I’ve a nice job, and on my next birthday I get grandmother’s money that she left me. I can be independent for as long as I wish.’ She paused. ‘Tell me, Felicity, did Percy know about that—my legacy?’

Mrs Howarth looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, you know how things slip out …’

‘It would have been useful to him, wouldn’t it? Happy young bride hands husband a nice lump sum so that he can shoot ahead in his career. Or was he going to persuade me to make some of it over to you?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Louisa. I have been left very comfortably off by your father.’

‘You’re overdrawn at the bank. You forget, you told me to open the post for you the other morning. There was a letter from the bank manager …’

‘You had no right.’

‘No, I know that. I didn’t read it deliberately; the letter was folded in such a way that I couldn’t help but read it as I took it out of the envelope.’

Mrs Howarth said in a wheedling voice, ‘Louisa, dear, it’s only temporary. If you could let me have some money? I’ll pay you back.’

‘Have you paid Biddy?’

‘Oh, she doesn’t mind waiting. She hasn’t anything to spend her money on, anyway.’

‘How many weeks do you owe her?’

‘A couple—well, three, I suppose.’

‘I’ll pay Biddy’s wages for three weeks. I dare say you can borrow whatever you want from one of your friends.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly—I play bridge with most of them, and how could I ask them here for lunch?’

‘Then don’t ask them,’ said Louisa. ‘Try Percy. I’m going to see Biddy, then I’m going to bed.’

Biddy was tidying the kitchen before going to bed. Her eyes brightened at the sight of the notes Louisa held out to her.

‘Well, now, Miss Louisa, the money will be very welcome—got ter think of me old age, ‘aven’t I?’

‘Of course, Biddy. And if you don’t get your wages regularly, will you let me know and I’ll remind Mrs Howarth?’

Louisa went to bed then, but not to sleep at once. She sat by the open window of the pretty room and thought about her future. It seemed obvious to her that Felicity would be better off without her—she might marry again, for she was still pretty and amusing. It would be best if she found a room, or a tiny flat somewhere in the city not too far from Sir James’s rooms.

She would miss the comfortable life she led now, but that didn’t worry her particularly. Indeed, she had always wished to live independently but her stepmother had begged her to stay. She could see that if she stayed now she would be in a rut from which there would be no escape. A place of my own, thought Louisa with satisfaction, and when I get Granny’s money I’ll find a flat, somewhere near the cathedral.

She settled down to sleep then, her mind made up. Of course, there would be difficulties with Felicity, although probably she would be relieved not to have Louisa around the house. Louisa had a little money saved, and the money she currently paid Felicity each week would go towards the rent of rooms. A pity she had no one to advise her. Dr Gifford, for instance. She came wide awake at the thought. He was the very last person she would wish to receive advice from!

Mrs Howarth sulked for several days and gave vent to her annoyance by going shopping, buying expensive clothes on her credit cards, spending long hours with friends, playing bridge and gossiping. She ignored Louisa when she was home; this had no effect, though, for Louisa had her pretty head filled with ideas and schemes.

She had gone to various estate agents and enquired about flats, and had been appalled at the rents of even the smallest ones. Of course Salisbury, being a cathedral city, had a certain prestige, and the area around the close where she would have liked to live was very expensive. She began to hunt around streets further afield, where the rents were within her means, but she found nothing to suit her.

It was when she took Biddy into her confidence that her luck changed. ‘A flat?’ asked Biddy. ‘Bless you, Miss Louisa, there’s Mrs Watts—I see ‘er down at the Bell regular. Told me she ‘ad a nice little flat. One of those little turnings off St Anne’s Street. Close by and very quiet, so she tells me.’

‘Do you suppose she would consider me, Biddy? If I were to go with you on your evening off we could meet her at the Bell.’

Biddy considered. ‘Well, now, it ain’t the place for a pretty young lady ter be. But there’s a snug at the back of the bar; I dare say we could arrange something. Leave it ter me; I owes yer, Miss Louisa. I’ll miss yer, but it don’t seem right that you should do more than your share. I know you go out a bit with the missus, but only to dull bridge parties and the like. You needs young people—a man. Like ‘im ‘oo carried me ter me room. Mind you, I didn’t see ‘im all that clearly but ‘e was a big chap and ‘e ‘ad a nice voice.’

She peeped at Louisa. ‘Seen ‘im again, ‘ave you, Miss Louisa?’

‘Well, yes. He came to Sir James’s rooms one morning. He’s a doctor.’

‘Ah.’ Biddy was all at once brisk. ‘Well, I’ll ‘ave a chat with Mrs Watts and let you know, Miss Louisa.’

As ill luck would have it, Biddy’s next free evening was forfeited. Mrs Howarth had issued invitations for dinner and bridge afterwards to several of her friends, and Biddy had to be on hand to cook and serve the meal.

‘I don’t suppose it matters to you when you have your evenings,’ she’d told Biddy. ‘I shall be out to dinner on Saturday, so have it then.’

Despite this setback, Louisa decided that it was a good thing. If her stepmother was out to dinner, then they wouldn’t need to worry about getting back before the Bell closed. Mrs Howarth had told Louisa sulkily that she could have the house to herself or go out with any of her friends.

‘It’s Biddy’s night off so you’ll have to get your own meal. I dare say you’ll manage. It’s as well you’re not invited; Percy will be there.’

‘Just as well,’ agreed Louisa sweetly. ‘And don’t worry about me. I hope you have a pleasant evening.’

The Bell was old, dark-beamed and crowded. Biddy led Louisa through the groups of people clustered in the bar and into the snug behind it.

Mrs Watts was already there, sitting at a small table with a glass of stout before her. She was a small woman, very thin, and could have been any age between forty and fifty years old. But she had a friendly face and manner, and after the ladies had had their refreshment the three of them walked the short distance to her house. It was indeed small, the front door opening onto a tiny hall and the narrow staircase enclosed by another door.

‘I live downstairs,’ said Mrs Watts. ‘Come up and see if it suits you.’

There were two very small rooms, a tiny kitchen and shower room and loo, all very clean, and the furniture, although basic, was well cared for. There was a view of the cathedral from the sitting room window, and the roof beneath the window sloped down to the small garden below.

‘If you are agreeable I’d very much like to rent it,’ said Louisa. ‘It’s just what I was looking for. If I pay you a month’s rent in advance and move in gradually?’

‘Suits me. Come and go when you like, though I don’t want any of those rowdy parties. Not that that’s likely; Biddy has vouched for you being a young lady who is quiet and tidy.’ She smiled. ‘Not that I’ve any objection to a young man paying a visit.’

‘I haven’t one,’ said Louisa cheerfully. ‘But there’s always hope.’

She looked round the little place again. ‘May I have a key?’

‘Course you can. Two—one for the front door and one for this flat. One month’s notice on either side?’

‘Yes. Do we have to write that?’

‘No need. I won’t do the dirty on you.’ Mrs Watts drew herself up to her full height. ‘I’m an honest woman.’

‘Me too, Mrs Watts. I’m so pleased to have found this flat; it’s Biddy’s doing, really. I’ll start bringing a few things round next week; I’m not sure when I shall actually move in.’