in the same home as your son.”
“Oh, I am sorry, Miss Dobbs. Was he your sweetheart?”
Maisie was a little surprised by the forthright question. But such an observation might be expected, as there were many women of Maisie’s age who had remained spinsters, their loved ones lost to war. “Well, yes. Yes, he was, but it was a long time ago, now.”
“Hard to forget though, isn’t it?” Mrs. Willis sat opposite Maisie.
Maisie cleared her throat. “Yes, sometimes. But look, Mrs. Willis, I just wanted to say that if I can give you a lift, you must let me know.”
“That’s very kind of you, but—”
“I don’t go there every week, but I can telephone first to see if you would like a lift when I am planning to visit, if you like.”
“Well, Miss, I can’t put you to any trouble. Really I can’t.”
“It’s no trouble at all. And if you should see my motor car outside when you’re visiting, do wait for me to bring you home.”
“All right, Miss Dobbs. I’ll do that.” The housekeeper smiled at Maisie.
She won’t ask for help. Ever, thought Maisie.
Suddenly, a clatter at the window caused Maisie to gasp. Mrs. Willis stood. “Here they come, after their lunch!”
“What on earth is that noise? It frightened the life out of me.”
“It’s just the doves, Miss Dobbs. Always after a bit extra, always. It’s lunchtime; they know who’s a soft touch and where they can get a tidbit or two.” The housekeeper took the lid off a brown-striped earthenware biscuit barrel set on the mantelpiece, selected a biscuit, and walked to the window. Maisie followed, and watched as she leaned over the sideboard and lifted the sash window to reveal a dozen or more doves sitting on the windowsill.
“There you are, you little beggars. Eat up, because that’s all you’re getting today!” Mrs. Willis crumbled the biscuit onto the windowsill.
Maisie laughed to see the birds jostle for position, pushing and shoving in an effort to get more.
“You watch, they’ll try upstairs next.”
“Why, who else feeds them?”
“Oh. Mr. Waite. He’s a soft one, if ever there was. He pays all the bills for my son’s care, you know. His bark is far worse than his bite, as they say.”
As if drawn by the unheard signal of a mystical piper, the doves swept up and away from the windowsill, taking to the air in a cloud of wings. Maisie watched as they flew up, while Mrs. Willis closed the window very slowly. And for a moment it seemed to Maisie as if time were faltering yet still moving forward, for in their wake the doves discarded dozens and dozens of tiny, perfect white feathers, each one zigzagging down, borne on a light breeze, until it fell onto the freshly cut lawn, or fluttered against the windowpane like snow.
“Oh dear, are you one of those people who doesn’t like birds?” asked Mrs. Willis.
“No, not at all.” Maisie turned back into the room, and regained her composure. “Mind you, my assistant doesn’t care for them.”
“Why ever not? They’re so beautiful.”
“Yes, they are, aren’t they? I don’t know why he doesn’t like them. I must make a point of asking him.” Maisie looked at her watch. “I really should be going now, Mrs. Willis. Don’t forget to ask if you need a lift.”
“That’s very kind of you, Miss Dobbs.” Mrs. Willis walked Maisie to the door, which she opened for her. “Will we be seeing Miss Waite home soon?”
“Yes you will. Probably in the next week.”
“That’s very good news, very good. The sooner she’s back home, the better. Let me show you the way.”
Maisie allowed Mrs. Willis to escort her to the front door. It would not have been correct for a guest to be left to find her own way out, especially in the mansion of Joseph Waite. At the door, she bade farewell to Mrs. Willis again. Then, as she reached the bottom of the front steps and heard the door closed behind her, Maisie set a course for the corner of the house where the front garden looped around. She heard Billy rushing to catch up.
“Don’t run, Billy! For goodness’ sake, spare your leg and your lungs!”
Billy came alongside. “What was all that about, Miss? The little chat with Mrs. Willis?”
“Initially just doing a favor. But now I don’t know.”
“Not followin’ ya, Miss.”
“I’ll explain later.” Maisie reached the corner of the house and looked first toward the outer windowsill of Mrs. Willis rooms, then up to the windows above.
“Aw, them bleedin’ birds!”
“Don’t worry, Billy, they’re not interested in you,” said Maisie, her attention on the window as she watched a hand reach out to sprinkle more crumbs for the hungry doves. It was a broad hand, a hand that Maisie could easily recognize from the ground, helped by the sun which broke through the clouds at just the right moment to catch the light reflected by a gold ring encrusted with diamonds.
“See anything interestin’, Miss?”
“Oh yes, Billy. Very interesting. Very interesting indeed.”
Billy seemed relieved to be
