Читать книгу The Blind Side - Dora Amy Elles - Страница 5

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“Oh, dear!” said Lucy Craddock.

She was all ready to start, her umbrella on her left wrist and the handle of her bag slipped over the umbrella handle in the special twist which she hoped would make it very difficult for a thief to snatch the bag whilst she was counting her luggage or tipping a porter. In her left hand she had the taxi fare all ready, and in her right she carried the little suitcase which contained everything she would need until she reached Marseilles.

And now there was the telephone bell ringing, and she would have to put everything down and keep the taxi waiting and—Her pale eyes looked distressfully out of her round pale face.

“Oh dear!” she said.

She took up the receiver, and heard Lee Fenton say,

“Is that you, Cousin Lucy?”

But it couldn’t be Lee, because Lee must be on her way to South America by now. Quite against everyone’s advice, but then young people never took advice.

She said in a small distracted voice, “Oh dear—who are you? I can’t stay—I’m just starting.”

Lee Fenton, in the station call-box, giggled and frowned. No need to ask if it was Cousin Lucy at the other end of the line. And what a fuss she was in. Anyhow thank goodness she hadn’t started. She said firmly,

“Cousin Lucy, it’s Lee. Please don’t start till I’ve told you what I want.”

Miss Lucy Craddock looked anxiously over her shoulder. The telephone was in the hall of the flat, a wall fixture, and if the kitchen door was open behind her she ought to be able to see the kitchen clock, and then she would know how much time she had to spare. But of course it wasn’t open. She had shut all the doors herself, the kitchen door and the bathroom door behind her, and the bedroom door and the sitting-room door on her left. Only the front door stood open, just as Rush had left it when he carried down her trunk, and her hat-box, and the big suitcase which had poor Mary’s initials on it but she hoped that wouldn’t matter because there was an extra large label with her own name in full—Lucy Craddock.

She said in an agitated voice, “But, my dear—where are you? And I’m just starting—I really am.”

“Darling, you always start half an hour too soon—you know you do. I’ll be as quick as lightning, but you must listen. Are you listening?”

“Yes—yes—But haven’t you sailed? I thought you were at sea—”

“Well, thank goodness I’m not. Darling, it was a wash-out.”

“A wash-out?”

“Absolutely. And I shall put it across Madeleine Deshenka next time I see her—only I don’t suppose I shall now, because from the way she talked you’d have thought she knew these Merville people in their cradles, and I only found out by accident two days before we were due to start that she’d picked them up in the Casino at Monte Carlo a couple of months ago, and all she really knew about them was that they’d made a packet.”

Miss Lucy gave a horrified gasp.

“Oh, my dear—how dreadful! I always said—”

Lee made a face at her end of the line.

“Darling, I know you did. But this isn’t the moment to trample—it really isn’t.”

“Oh, Lee, you can’t go with people like that—not to South America—you really can’t!”

“I’m not going. Anyhow it wasn’t them any longer—it was him. They had a row—darling, I can’t begin to tell you what a really first-class row it was—and then she walked out and took the little girl with her. And he seemed to think I was going to stay and just sail away with him into the blue, so I walked out too, and here I am.”

“Where?”

“Victoria Station. Don’t get rattled, darling—nothing has happened, and nothing is going to happen. But listen. Can I have the key of Cousin Mary’s flat and stay there for a bit while I look round for something to bring in the shekels, because this has just about cleaned me out and it won’t run to digs.”

Miss Lucy felt, and sounded, completely distracted.

“Oh, my dear! How very, very unfortunate! And I’ve paid for my tickets, or I might have been able—Oh dear, I wish I weren’t going away, but Mary made me promise—you know how unselfish she was, and she thought it would take my mind off. She’d been an invalid so long, and of course that is always a strain, and she made me promise that as soon as I could after the funeral I would go right away—and when Peter told me about this cruise—”

“I know. Dear Cousin Lucy, do listen. I should hate you not to go for your cruise.”

“She made me promise,” said Miss Lucy with a sob. “But I don’t really feel I ought to go, because—oh, my dear, you know Ross is turning me out.”

It was Lee’s turn to gasp. She said, “No!” and Miss Lucy said, “Oh, he is!” and gave another and a much louder sob.

“Ross Craddock is turning you out? Cousin Lucy, he can’t!”

“He says he can. He says there was nothing in the will. He says he wouldn’t turn Mary out, but now she’s gone he wants to throw the three flats into one, and he says I’m quite able-bodied. He says I’ve got to go. I got the letter this morning.”

Lee stamped her foot so hard that she jarred the line.

“What a swine!” she said, and shocked Miss Lucy a good deal.

“Oh, my dear, I don’t think—”

“Well, I do! What put him up to it?”

Miss Lucy’s voice trembled.

“He says he wants the whole floor to himself—dear Mary’s flat, and his, and mine—and to throw them all into one. He says he wants more room. But I think it’s because I spoke to him about Mavis—I do indeed. He was so angry, and told me to mind my own business, but after all she is my niece, and I told him it wasn’t right and he was getting her talked about. And this morning I got his letter—such a horrible, cruel letter—”

Lee said, “Swine!” again, then added hastily, “What an ass Mavis is!”

“Oh, my dear!”

“She always was. But Ross Craddock—what on earth—she can’t like him!”

“Oh, I don’t know—he is a very handsome man. I feel I oughtn’t to go away, but I promised Mary—”

“Of course you must go.”

Miss Lucy sniffed.

“To stay here and keep on meeting Ross in the lift and on the stairs—I feel I really can’t! I feel as if I should do something before, and it’s so very uncomfortable. It’s not just because he wants to turn me out. There’s Mavis—she’s so young—and there are reasons—” Miss Lucy became very much agitated. “I have got quite a desperate feeling—I have indeed. And Peter says it would be better for me to go away.”

“Much better,” said Lee firmly. “And look here, darling, let’s get down to brass tacks. Can I have Cousin Mary’s flat?”

Miss Lucy’s agitation became less tearful. She said in a flustered voice,

“Oh, no, dear, you can’t—Peter’s there.”

“Peter? Living there?”

“Yes, dear. He is the executor. He is going through all the papers. Dear Mary never destroyed anything. There are boxes and boxes and boxes of them.”

“Bother! Then that’s a wash-out. Well, what about your flat? That’s a bright thought, isn’t it? I’ll keep it aired and warm and beautifully clean, and I won’t let Ross so much as cross the threshold. If he tries anything on whilst you’re away, there’ll be murder done. I can’t say fairer than that—can I?”

“My dear—”

“Now, darling, step on it, or you won’t catch that train! Listen! I’ll be at the barrier. Is it the Folkestone train—the seven-thirty-three? It is? All right, I’ll be there. You can bring the keys along and press them into my hand. And you’d better just murmur to Rush that I’m moving in. You needn’t bother about Peter—I’ll break the news myself.”

Miss Lucy was heard to draw a breath that was almost a gasp.

“Oh, Lee—I don’t know if you ought—if I ought—so many people away, and no one on this floor except Ross and Peter—”

“Darling, I’ve never had a chaperon in my life. Now hurry, hurry, hurry! And don’t forget the keys!”