by Anna Jacobs
The office they were ushered into was large and severely tidy. The woman behind the desk matched it. Her steel-grey hair was dragged back into an unfashionable bun and spectacles magnified her eyes, giving her a watchful, owl-like appearance.
‘I’m Mrs Tolson. Please sit down, Mrs Greenhill.’
‘This is Mr Easton, who’s come with me today.’
‘I’m a friend of the family,’ he put in smoothly.
‘I’m glad Mrs Greenhill has some support at this difficult time. Now, I have all the postcards you sent to your sister.’ She passed across a big envelope. ‘I don’t think Renie received any of them. Could you please check that they’re all there?’
Nell looked at the top postcard. ‘This was the first one I sent.’ She sifted quickly through the pile. ‘They all seem to be here, though I’d have to check my diary too, but there’s no sign of the letter I sent to tell her about the accident.’ She hesitated, then added, ‘My husband and child were killed in a gas explosion.’
‘I’m sorry to hear about your loss and to bring back the grief.’ Mrs Tolson waited a few seconds, then resumed her gentle questioning. ‘Are you sure your sister didn’t give you any clue that she was thinking of leaving? No, of course she didn’t, or you’d not have kept sending the postcards. What am I thinking of?’
That remark made her seem more human and Nell relaxed a little.
‘I’ve been worrying that your sister might be in trouble, you see. We’d have helped her if she had been, I promise you, though it would have surprised me. She was a hard worker and not the flighty sort. It does happen sometimes, however, that young women are dazzled by London and act foolishly, but she seemed quite … sensible, if a little impetuous and outspoken.’
‘Very impetuous. She sometimes rushed into things. And she often spoke too frankly. I can’t think of any reason why she’d leave suddenly.’
‘Perhaps you’d go through her remaining things and see if that gives you any clues.’ She went across to a cardboard box sitting on a chair to one side. ‘I put everything in here.’
Nell joined her and went through the items, finding mainly worn-out clothes and a couple of tattered books. Nothing really personal, nothing to give her any sort of hint as to why Renie would vanish. There were none of her letters or the one photo Nell had had taken of Sarah by Mrs Garrett. And of course, Renie wasn’t the sort to keep a diary. ‘If someone had kidnapped her, she’d not have been able to take the rest of her things,’ she said as she stepped back. ‘So she must have gone willingly. I’m baffled too.’
Mrs Tolson sighed. ‘Then there’s nothing else I can do. Would you like to take these things away with you? I can provide you with an old suitcase.’
‘I suppose I might as well. Just in case Renie comes back. You have my address at the farm?’ Nell glanced at Hugh and saw him nod approval of that.
‘Yes. I can contact you there if I hear anything.’
The two of them were quiet as they took the lift down to the foyer.
‘Let’s get a cup of tea and something to eat,’ Hugh said.
‘Not here. It’ll cost a fortune,’ she said automatically.
He laughed. ‘Not quite a fortune. I’m ravenous. Aren’t you?’
‘Not very.’
But when the waitress brought them a selection of dainty sandwiches, he managed to persuade Nell to eat a few, and then to sample the pretty little cakes.
Afterwards they walked slowly to the entrance of the hotel. ‘I don’t think you’re in the mood for sightseeing.’
‘No. I’d rather go straight home, if you don’t mind. Oh no, you wanted to call in at your office, didn’t you?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Of course it does. It’d be foolish not to go when we’re so close.’ She saw him frown. ‘It’ll make no difference to how I feel.’
She was almost as awed by the building Hugh took her to as she’d been by the hotel. This one had a marble-floored hall from which footsteps echoed up a flight of stairs that went up for four floors. She could see right up the staircase from the hall because it twisted round the walls.
Gold lettering on the door to the right said ‘Cates & Dover Enquiries’ but Hugh went past that, along a corridor with white marble busts at intervals on pedestals. Nell didn’t recognise who they were, except for one, which she thought might be Charles Dickens.
Hugh opened a door on the right at the end of the corridor. ‘This is my office. I’ll leave you in here while I go and see Mr Dover, the senior partner.’
The room was huge, rather chilly because there was no fire in the hearth, but the fire was laid and needed only a match to set it alight. Every surface had been carefully dusted, but the clutter of books on them reminded her of his study in Wiltshire.
When he didn’t return, she went across to the glass-fronted bookcase to read the titles and authors on their spines.
The door opened and someone said, ‘Excuse me, madam.’
She swung round to see a lad in a grey suit standing there. ‘I’ve come to light the fire, Mrs Greenhill,’ he said cheerfully, ‘and to ask if you’d like a cup of tea and a biscuit.’
‘Just a cup of tea, please.’
‘Mr Easton will be another half hour at least, so I’m to give you this.’ He held out a book. ‘He thought you’d like something to read and this is the latest by one of his authors. It’s a very exciting story!’
‘Thank you.’
He went across to the fire, struck a match and lit it, waiting a minute to make sure it caught properly. As he went out, he nodded and said politely, ‘Won’t be long.’
She was soon seated comfortably in front of the fire with the book and a tea tray, but couldn’t settle to reading because she was too worried about Renie. Where on earth could her sister be? Why hadn’t she left word?
She heard footsteps and looked up as the door opened.
‘Ah, here she is,’ Hugh said heartily.
Behind the older man’s back, he was looking at her strangely, as if pleading for her to understand. She braced herself for some new shock. But what he said was so unexpected, it took her breath away.
‘Mr Dover, this is my fiancée, Nell Greenhill. Nell, this is the senior partner, Mr Dover.’
Still standing out of sight of his companion, he mouthed Please help me, so she took a deep breath and smiled, hoping she’d hidden her astonishment.
‘My dear Miss Greenhill, I’m delighted to meet you.’
‘Mrs Greenhill,’ she corrected automatically, saw him gape and added, ‘I’m a widow.’
‘Oh, I see. Very sad. And so young too. But I’m very happy that this young fellow’s found someone at last. We’d all given up hope of getting him married off. Have you two named a day yet?’
‘Er … no.’
‘We’ve only just got engaged,’ Hugh said, coming across to put his arm round her.
That was true, she thought, and couldn’t help smiling.
Mr Dover looked at her hand, then at Hugh.
‘One of the reasons we’re up in London, sir, is to find her a ring.’
‘Good, good. I hope you won’t wait too long to marry and settle down again. We need you back here, my boy. How is your poor little niece?’
‘Improving slowly. But she still clings to the farm and weeps if I suggest moving to London.’
‘Very sad. But you’ll have to be firm with her now. She’s had enough time to get over the worst and you can’t let a child’s wishes run your career. Shall we say another month?’
‘I’ll do my best.’ Hugh took out his pocket watch. ‘Now, I’m afraid we must leave if we’re to buy that ring.’
‘Jolly good, jolly good.’
When they went outside, Hugh looked at her ruefully. ‘Old Dover and his wife have been trying to marry me off to one or other of their nieces for years. There seem to be dozens of nieces, and very plain girls they are too. He jumped to the conclusion that you were my fiancée and … well, it seemed best
to let him believe it, or he’d have been pressing me to go to tea again.’
‘I don’t suppose it matters. Once you go back to work in London, you can tell him we’ve changed our minds.’
‘Mmm. But we might not change our minds.’
She gaped at him.
He smiled, then shook his head as if clearing away some stray thoughts and picked up the suitcase again. ‘We’ll take a taxi to Paddington Station.’
All the way home she alternated between shock at what he’d said and worry about her sister.
What would he do next?
And what would she agree to next? He had a way of making you do what he wanted, in the gentlest possible way, whether it was going for a walk or pretending to get engaged.
He surely couldn’t have meant what he’d said about changing their minds? No, she must have mistaken it. This so-called engagement was just a way of helping him, a convenience. It wasn’t real.
It was nine o’clock before they got a still-sulky May to bed, and Nell wasn’t sure whether to rejoin Hugh in the kitchen or go to bed herself. But she felt restless, so she went back down to make them a cup of cocoa, as she did most nights, but she took care to sit opposite him at the table.
‘What are you going to do about your sisters now?’ Hugh asked as he stirred his cocoa.
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You need to write to those friends of yours, the minister and his wife. They might have a letter from Renie for you.’
‘Yes, of course. Why didn’t I think of that? I’ll do it tomorrow.’
‘And there’s still your father.’
‘Only as a final resort, and I’m not sure I can face him, even then.’
She had the letter to the Garretts ready to give to the postman by the time he came the following day, and then could only wait to find out if they had heard anything from Renie.
In the meantime, she kept herself busy. There was a lot to do to bring the farmhouse up to scratch.
It was strange how comfortable she continued to feel when she was alone with Hugh. She didn’t let herself hope for the impossible, but concentrated on enjoying his company and getting to know him better.
He seemed to be doing the same.
Though he did hold her hand a lot and smile at her and … She really should stop daydreaming.
The following weekend Nell agreed to keep an eye on May so that Hugh could get on with some urgent editing work which had arrived that week. She insisted the girl tidy her room and help with the cleaning. ‘Your room is in a dreadful mess.’
May looked at her in outrage. ‘Pearl was supposed to do that sort of thing, so it’s your job now.’
Nell felt annoyed at this cheeky answer. She didn’t believe in spoiling children, even ones whose families were in comfortable circumstances, and she wasn’t going to put up with May speaking to her like that. ‘Pearl didn’t have time to do everything in such a big house and I shan’t have, either. Besides, no one should be expected to pick up dirty clothes after a big girl like you. We’ll make a fresh start from now on, and I’ll check every day to make sure your room stays tidy.’
‘It’s your job to do the tidying up,’ May said at once. ‘And anyway, I always sit in my uncle’s office and read at weekends. He likes me to be with him.’
‘Of course he does. But he’ll also like you to grow up knowing how to run a house. That’s a woman’s main job.’
Hugh came in just then and May fled to him, sobbing out her protest. But when he heard her complaint, he sat her down at the table and said firmly, ‘Mrs Greenhill is right, May. You can’t just sit around reading all the time and expect other people to pick up after you. That’s lazy. I have work to do, and at your age, you should definitely be clearing up your own room. What’s more, if Mrs Greenhill asks you to do something, I expect you to obey her as you would me.’
This made the girl sob even more wildly.
Nell beckoned to Hugh and moved over to the door, saying quietly, ‘Leave her to me now. The more attention you give her, the more she’ll protest.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Don’t let her be cheeky.’
‘I won’t stand any nonsense.’ She went back to her work, and the minute the door closed behind Hugh, the sobbing lessened. She didn’t even look at the girl.
‘You’re mean,’ May announced after a few moments of silence.
‘I’m doing what all mothers do, since you don’t have one of your own now. I’m teaching you to do the housework, just as my sister taught me after my mother died.’
‘My uncle is rich enough to pay other people to do the housework.’
‘And he’s sensible enough to want you to learn how it’s done, and not grow up lazy and ignorant.’
‘Well, I’m not doing it.’
‘Are you really going to disobey me?’ She waited and added, ‘And him?’
There was dead silence, and when she looked again she saw a sulky scowling face. She put away the last dish. ‘Right, let’s go and do the bedrooms now. Yours is in great need of a complete turn-out. You can bring the polish and the dusting things. I’ll take the broom.’
In the bedroom, she looked at the candlestick beside the bed, which was covered in melted wax. ‘You’d better take this downstairs. We’ll clean it properly later when we do the lamps.’
May snatched up the candlestick. ‘In London, my uncle has electric lighting in his house, even in the bedrooms and servants’ rooms, so there aren’t any lamps or candlesticks to clean. And the Vacuum Cleaner Company come to the house every week to clean the carpets and floors.’
‘Then why are you refusing to go and live there? I’d love to have such modern aids. I’ve never even seen a vacuum cleaning machine, though I’ve read about them. I don’t enjoy cleaning lamps and candlesticks, either, but if I want to read in the evenings, I have to do it.’
May stamped her way down the stairs.
When she came back they worked in silence, with Nell occasionally giving a quiet instruction to do something, and May huffing and sighing, but doing it.
When they’d finished, Nell stood by the door with her hands on her hips. ‘There. Your room looks so much better. And it smells better too.’
There was a sob beside her and she found May in tears, couldn’t help taking the child into her arms and met with no resistance this time.
‘What’s the matter, dear?’
‘Mummy used to stand there and say that. I miss her so much.’
Nell moved across to the bed and let the girl cry against her, tears rising in her own eyes.
When there had been quiet for a moment or two, she looked at May.
‘You’ve been crying too,’ the girl said in surprise.
‘Yes. You reminded me of how I felt when my mother died. And how I felt when my daughter died a few months ago.’ She felt tears run down her cheeks. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t be troubling you with my sorrows, only I miss my daughter very much.’
A hand crept into hers. ‘Uncle Hugh told me. I’m sorry you lost her.’
They sat for a while, but this time in a more companionable silence, then Nell stood up. ‘Come on. Time to prepare lunch.’
She hoped they’d made progress today in getting on together, wanted very much to help this sad confused child.
A reply arrived from the Garretts on the Tuesday. Once the postman had left, Nell held the letter in her hand for a moment or two, afraid to open it, then told herself not to be stupid and tore the envelope, pulling out the single piece of paper it contained.
My dear Nell
We were delighted to hear from you and to know that your summer of walking has made you feel better. We have appreciated your postcards, but as you say, it’s time to stop wandering and make a new life for yourself.
Your job sounds very suitable and I’m sure Mr Easton will be satisfied with your hard work.
I’m afraid we haven’t hear
d from Renie at all. I went to the post office to ask what had happened to the mail for Willow Court. They said there wasn’t any as the people who lived there hadn’t been the sort to receive letters, except for you.
I’m so sorry that we’re unable to help you find Renie.
Please keep in touch and let us know how you get on. My dear wife and all your friends from chapel send their very best regards.
Septimus Garrett
PS Your husband’s cousin Frank came back, but he’d just missed you. He said it was urgent family business, so perhaps you ought to go and see him.
Nell stared at the last sentence in shock.
‘Bad news?’
‘It’s from the Garretts to say they haven’t heard from Renie. And … look at the PS.’ She passed the letter to him.
‘Why would he go all the way up to Lancashire again? Did Cliff’s mother say anything when you went to see her?’
‘No. And I’m not going to see them again. I don’t like Frank.’
‘Let’s sit down and plan what to do next, then.’
‘It won’t do any good to go and see my father.’ But she did sit down and let Hugh fuss over her, needed that comfort.
‘We’ll both go to see your father,’ he said after a while. ‘That’s the only avenue left to explore now for your older sister.’
‘I know Mattie won’t have gone back to him, or even got in touch with him. He’s not her father, after all. She and I just share a mother. You don’t understand what he’s like, Hugh. He’s a horrible man, a real bully. All he cares about is money.’
‘Nonetheless …’
She argued with Hugh, but though he remained as gentle as ever, somehow, an hour later, she found herself agreeing to go into Swindon with him on the Saturday afternoon to ask her father if he’d heard from Mattie.
‘We should take May with us,’ she said. ‘It’s not good for her to be left out. And anyway, we need to get her away from here regularly, if you’re to take her back to London next month.’