“Oh, Enid,” groaned Lois. Why had she mentioned that? Now there’d be a campaign from Jamie until either she or Derek gave way. “And what about lessons?” she said. “We can’t afford that, Jamie.”
“I could probably help there, too,” Enid said treacherously. “I used to play a lot. I could give Jamie some lessons – free, of course – and that would be a pleasure, I assure you.”
“There you are!” said Jamie. “Thanks, Miss Abraham. Can I come to your house for lessons?” Enid’s face clouded, and her reply was instant. “No, dear. I’ll come here, if that’s convenient. We don’t have visitors at the mill.”
“Right,” said Jamie, “all settled then, Mum?”
Lois looked at the colour returning to his cheeks and sighed. “It’s very kind of you, Enid,” she said. “I’ll discuss it with your father, Jamie.”
Jamie grinned, knowing exactly what Dad would say at first. It was just a case of choosing the right moment, but he could rely on Mum for that.
? Weeping on Wednesday ?
Twelve
Bill as cleaner had been something of a surprise to Lois. She had been quite prepared for a longish period of training, of polishing up his skills with fine furniture and vulnerable porcelain. When she went with him on his first morning at the estate agent’s, he lifted with ease heavy filing cabinets so she could clean behind them, moved wobbly display units of houses for sale without collapsing the lot, and polished with gusto the blonde’s desktop, saying cheerfully that she could see herself in all her glory now. So far so good. Strong muscles obviously helpful. Next was a cantankerous old lady, whose drawing-room was like a museum, with a collection of priceless Royal Worcester china.
“Irreplaceable,” the old lady said, looking doubtfully at Bill. Lois crossed her fingers and said everything would be fine. She would see to it herself.
“Trust me, Mrs M,” Bill whispered.
She took a deep breath. “Right, Bill,” she said, crossing her fingers behind her back. “I’ll just empty the wastepaper basket, and you can make a start on the dresser over there. Be very, very careful.”
It was quiet in the house. The old lady had retreated to her bedroom to sit in an armchair giving her a view of the garden, where she planned to read
She moved about the room quietly, surreptitiously glancing across to see Bill at work. In the end, she relaxed. It was OK. His big hands were gentle. Well, farmers had to be gentle sometimes, she supposed, delivering lambs and all that. Lucky old Rebecca.
The old lady made a tour of inspection before they left, pronounced herself well satisfied, and came to the door with them as they left. She beamed at Bill and said she would look forward to seeing him next week.
“Well done,” Lois said. “Bit of a conquest there! I suppose you’re used to the effect you have on girls of all ages?”
“Yep,” said Bill cheerfully. “Can come in very useful.” He looked at Lois as they stood outside the garden gate. No chance of a conquest there. She was a tough one, and had made the boundaries quite clear.
“Where next, Mrs M?” he said.
“Dalling Hall,” she said. “It’s a hotel, and they’re expanding, converting stables into more accommodation. That means extra cleaning, and we’re off to make sure New Brooms gets the contract. You’d better follow me. Have to go in at the tradesmen’s entrance, of course,” she added.
Bill shrugged. “Well, you can’t blame them, not wanting that old banger out front…” He gestured at Lois’s car, and wondered if he’d gone too far.
Lois laughed. “You wait,” she said. “When my gleaming white van draws up one day outside Dalling Hall, the guests’ll know they’re getting a quality service. Anyway,” she added briskly, “we’re wasting time. See you there.”
“Yes, boss,” said Bill, getting into his own car and following meekly behind Lois until they reached Dalling Hall.
¦
The contract was secured, and Lois drove home in a good mood. Then she remembered what she had in her euphoria promised Bill. There was a special school concert at Waltonby tonight, very special, according to Bill, with Rebecca playing the flute, and a popular local singer, as well as wonderful contributions from the children. They were worried the floods might keep people away, and he asked if there was a chance Lois could come? Jamie might enjoy it too, he’d added hopefully.
Lois said the children had too much homework but she would try to be there, and maybe bring Gran. She thought it was not quite Derek’s kind of thing…
But when she got home and asked Gran, she was reminded that things were very tense in
“Right,” said Lois. “It’s just me. Never mind about the terrible weather and floods and lightnin’ an’ thunder and…” Jamie looked up from the kitchen table. “I’ll come, Mum,” he said. “I could help, if you get stuck.”
“No, no,” Lois said quickly. “Only joking, Jamie. I’ll set off in a while, and be there and back before you know it. These school concerts are usually quite short. The children can’t sit still for too long. No, you get the kettle on for when I get back. That’d be a real help.”
¦
The rising water in the mill stream and pond had alarmed Enid, and she’d gone to bed before tea, saying she had a headache. She buried her head under the covers and willed herself to sleep. Downstairs, Walter sat with his newspaper, and although he rustled pages from time to time, he couldn’t read. The storm raged outside, and the sounds of crashing thunder and flapping bits of corrugated iron on the barns were joined by Mother’s protests from her room. He’d tried several times to calm her, but only seemed to make her worse.
Walter put down his newspaper and closed his eyes. Poor Enid, she’d had a rotten time, with Mother having got so difficult. He felt ashamed and helpless, and wished he could put it right for them all. Edward had made a life for himself, of a sort, but Enid had tried to do her duty, staying at home and running the house, and had reaped no reward. The fault lay with himself, Walter thought. If he hadn’t been so weak and let Mother get away with it, they wouldn’t be in this mess. Still, at least my girl’s got herself a job that takes her into the outside world most days, he thought. She’d showed a strength over this, in the face of Mother’s violent opposition, that he had not seen before. If only he could follow her example.
Now there was another bout of shouting and banging, and he put his hands over his ears. Then he got up, wiping tears from his face, and left the room.
¦
The first half of the concert went on much longer than Lois expected. There was to be an interval, and this went on for half an hour. There were drinks and biscuits and a great deal of shouting and whooping from the children, with animated conversation from proud parents. Just as a bell was rung and they were returning to their seats, Lois felt a hand on her arm. “Evening, Mrs Meade.” It was Inspector Cow gill, smiling at her, with a sour- faced woman standing close beside him.
“What are you doing here?” Lois said, and realized that was not exactly polite. But she was taken by surprise, seeing him out of context.
“Our grandchildren are performing,” said the woman in an icy voice. She was clearly Mrs Cowgill, though she was not introduced.
“Ah,” said Lois, casting about for something friendly to say. “That’s nice.”
“Oh, look, dear,” said Cowgill, turning his wife round to see a fracas at the other side of the room. “I think it’s our little ones, fighting for supremacy. Better go and sort them out. They take notice of you.” Mrs Cowgill gave him
