“Let’s hope something splendid happens to each of them,” I was saying, when edging in sideways came her beloved and mine carrying Judy between them in a linked armlift. She looked quite chirpy in her seated position, but I noted the shadows under her eyes and the twitch of the mouth that suggested she was battling pain. As I had expected, she insisted on taking the bed in the cubbyhole, saying she would be cozily cocooned in there. To have tried to persuade her otherwise would have delayed getting her into bed, which Livonia and I accomplished as soon as the men left. Ben had smiled at me in a way that at that moment felt more enveloping than an embrace, before saying he would send a meal up in half an hour, although Judy might be asleep by then as a result of the tablets Tommy had given her.
“I wouldn’t worry if she’s not awake to eat; what she needs most is rest. What happened must have been a severe shock to her system,” whispered Livonia, sounding very much a doctor’s wife when we returned to the bigger space after spreading the bedclothes gently over Judy and folding back a triangle to leave the injured foot uncovered.
“Thanks for the help and the shared confidences,” I said.
“Oh, I do hope you’ll stay in touch.” The hug she gave me had a warmth I would never have expected from the frozen creature she had been on first meeting. “I want so much to go on being friends.”
“So do I, Livonia; already you feel like a close pal.”
She blinked tearily. “Promise to fetch me if you need help of any kind with Judy, getting her to bathroom or just someone else to talk to her? Remember, I’m just a few steps away. And do try to get some rest yourself, I know you have to be worried about Mrs. Malloy. She has to be feeling under a cloud because of,” lowering her voice, “not liking Judy, but I believe she was telling the truth about not being the one who shot that arrow, deliberately or otherwise. She’s your friend and that’s enough for me.”
“Out,” I said, edging her toward the door. “You’re so dear you’ll have me bawling if you stay a moment longer. Go to Tommy and fall into his arms, you deservedly lucky girl.”
“I only wish that Molly, with that awful Mrs. Knox as a mother, can end up as happy. Mummy could be controlling in that plaintive way of hers, but if I’d had a talent for ballet and it had been my grand passion as is the case with Molly, I think she would have been proud enough to have encouraged me instead of saying that a lump of a girl would be booed offstage. Oh, I do hope someone can wave a magic wand for her, and for Judy and Alice, who also have their very special gifts. Okay, Ellie! I’m leaving before you toss me out.”
Of course the moment she was gone, I selfishly wished her back; a peek into the cubbyhole showed Judy to be asleep, breathing evenly and otherwise revealing no sign of restlessness. It was still early-only six fifteen-and the evening stretched endlessly ahead. Ben would come whether or not he was the one to bring up the meal. Mrs. Foot, Mr. Plunket, and Boris might insist on doing that, but in either case he would not linger talking because of risking disturbing Judy.
Half an hour later, Tommy put in a return appearance to check on the patient. He nodded in a satisfied way and left a couple of tablets with me that he said I should give to her at ten if she woke up, but not to disturb her if she slept on. I was struck by his new aplomb, but the boyish beam was very much in evidence when telling me he was taking Livonia back to his home for dinner.
“Mrs. Spuds is preparing something special and will stay to observe the proprieties,” he added earnestly. “As Livonia may have told you, she was not treated with greatest respect by a man named Harold, and I intend to proceed gently with her.”
Not too gently, I hoped. On his departure I put the tablets in a little dish on the chair and picked up the book that still had me on chapter one. It was by an author who was new to me and I hadn’t found it particularly gripping, but it might take off in the next fifty or so pages. I was on the bed, having read no more than three pages, when Ben came through the door empty-handed.
“Judy sleeping?” he asked in a hushed voice, with an eye to the cubbyhole.
I nodded up at him.
“Sweetheart,” he continued to whisper, “when I said I’d bring up the tray for you and Judy, Mrs. Foot looked close to tears.”
Being a woman capable of compassion, I refrained from saying that must have been a gruesome sight.
“She went on about having snapped at you earlier.”
“That,” I too kept my voice way down, “is an understatement; but she was under stress. Thumper chased Whitey up Boris’s trousers, and from the sound of it he’s going to need thrice weekly sessions with a psychiatrist.”
“Boris?”
“Whitey.” Poor Thumper…
“My poor Ellie,” he bent and kissed my cheek, “was it a terrible wrench parting with him?”
“Yes, but I have to accept that he isn’t mine. Speaking of low spirits, is Georges in the dumps now that Lord Belfrey has decided not to continue with
Ben whispered that he had, and from what was being floated around, it sounded as though congratulations might be in order anyway. Was that an assessing glance he was giving me?
“That leaves me heartbroken.” For a moment I forgot to whisper. “I’ve always relished having a man enjoy looking at me because I remind him of the woman he loves. Oh, all right! I admit to being flattered. He’s handsome and if a woman doesn’t have some ego, she’s dead. But would I want to put him in a shopping bag and take him home? The answer is no. He doesn’t make me laugh or want to throw things at him. And I doubt he can boil an egg. Now go before you wake Judy.”
“I’ve had terrible pangs of jealousy.” He stroked my hair.
“Well, think of some way to make it up to me-some wonderful present, although I can’t for the moment think of anything I desperately want.”
“Can’t you?” Ben said on his way out the door.
I picked up my book and had read another page and a half during what length of time I did not know-my mind having wandered so far afield that I hadn’t checked my watch-when my next visitor, the least welcome by far, arrived. Mrs. Foot with a loaded tray.
“Let me help you with that-it looks heavy,” I said, jumping up.
“Mr. Plunket came down with a headache.” She allowed me to take the tray from her and watched me place it on the bed. “It’s taking up the drink after being off it so long, but I’ll get him sorted once Mucklesfeld is back to itself again.”
“I’m sure. Judy’s sleeping.”
“Is she now?” No attempt at lowering her voice. “Best thing for her, I’m sure she’ll be fine in the morning. After all, in the scheme of things, what’s a sprained ankle? If she’d watched where she fell, it shouldn’t have happened. When I picture dear Boris swinging from one trapeze to another and never a stubbed toe, bless him, my heart melts.”
One thing to be said for Mrs. Foot, I always felt dainty as a buttercup in her presence. “How is Boris?”
“Gone to bed like I said he must. A right shock he got, being attacked by that dog.”
“Did he have Dr. Rowley take a look at his arm?”
“What, go making a fuss? That’s not my Boris! Never a thought for his self when there’s others to be worried about. It’s Whitey he’s thinking on, wondering if the dear wee fellow will ever be quite right in the head again after the fright he took.”
“How’s Mr. Plunket?”
“Been crying his eyes out from going back on the bottle; got him tucked in with a hot-water bottle.”
Preferably one that didn’t leak.
“Anyway,” Mrs. Foot finally got to it, “I’m sorry I flared at you like I did this afternoon and me usually so sunny. I realized soon as you went off in a huff that it really wasn’t your fault. The dog isn’t yours; though you can’t say you haven’t encouraged him to hang around. I hope you’ll eat your meal in the spirit it was brought up in and drink the tea I put in a thermos to keep warm, though as Mr. Plunket and Boris always say, one of my cups tastes just as
