“A fine time I’ve had, Mrs. H, looking all over for you,” she announced, as Ariel faded away in the direction of the main house. “I want you to hear me recite the poem I’ve written for Melody.”
“That would be nice,” I said, hoping she would notice I sounded wan and would usher me indoors where I could sit on her knee and tell her I was being spiteful and petty again and ask if she knew of something I could take for it.
“Nice to hear you sound so encouraging, Mrs. H. Now hold on a minute, let me get posed just right.” She squared her shoulders, drew in her elbows, and clasped her hands over her middle. This not being quite what she was after, she made some adjustments. One hand went to her bosom and then down to her side. “Don’t rush me, Mrs. H!”
I thought of Mr. Gallagher’s parents, who had, according to Miss Pierce, doted on his teatime recitations. Perhaps my failure to get into the poetry mood was because there were no little sandwiches and fancy iced cakes on a table in the passageway. Despair tends to make me hungry; it had to be time for elevenses, if not for lunch. Sausages would be nice and perhaps some bubble and squeak. Ben made wonderful hubble-bubble, as we called it. Quite possibly it would be the thing I would miss most about him when he was gone.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw him walking toward us, dark head bent, seemingly intent on counting every piece of gravel on the path.
“Here goes, then! Tell me if the words’ gas meter, or whatever they call it, is all right.” Mrs. Malloy cleared her throat before beginning:
“ ’
“Very poignant,” I said, with what I hoped was a noticeable glow of enthusiasm. Ben had looked up and seen us. He had a piece of paper in his hand, which he now waved.
“I’m not finished.” Mrs. Malloy rebuked me. “I did seven more verses. I got so carried away I forgot to give meself a manicure.”
“Then you’d better go in and do it before I rope you in to help with lunch.” Ben drew up in front of us and flashed her a smile. “Escape while there’s still time.”
“I don’t see as it would hurt Betty to get one meal. It’s not like she’s always been a lady of leisure. Too much time on the hands all of a sudden isn’t good for nobody. Probably bored out of her mind and picking holes in Tom and Ariel for something to do. But I’ll leave you two together,” said Mrs. M magnanimously, before teetering down the passageway on her high heels-different shoes from the ones she and Val had in common. I looked at Ben, seeing the flecks of gold in his eyes before he lowered his head, again concentrating on the gravel as he slid an arm around my shoulders and we walked toward the kitchen door.
“When I was talking to Mrs. Cake, she suggested I go down and ask Miss Pierce for her recipe for currant scones.” He folded the piece of paper and put it in his trouser pocket. “She said it’s a good one and the old lady would be pleased.”
“Thoughtful of Mrs. Cake to suggest it,” I told his shoes, “and nice of you to take her up on the idea. You’ve nothing to learn when it comes to making scones.”
“I thought it was my hubble-bubble you were particularly fond of.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Funny you should mention it. I was just pining for some.”
“Two hearts that beat as one.” His arm drew me closer. I should have brimmed over with happiness. I was happy. There had been a perfectly reasonable explanation for his visit to the Dower House.
“Will Miss Pierce and Val-Valeria-be at the tea?”
“Of course.” It was said lightly, but I felt I’d stepped on his toes. Had I sounded like the jealous wife in
9
A back door to the main house opened and Betty stuck out her head. “Hello there. Tom and I just got back from church.”
“Good sermon?” Ben asked.
“I couldn’t concentrate. Tom said he felt wonky in the middle of it and went out to sit on a bench.”
“Is he feeling better?” I inquired of her back, as we went inside.
“Who knows? He’s been out of sorts ever since you arrived.” Betty made up for this tactless observation by saying the magic words. “I’ll get coffee and biscuits, if you like. I really was fairly domesticated, before there no longer seemed any point. Or would we do better having an early lunch, as we’ll be having the tea at three? Anyway, come into the kitchen and we’ll sort it out.”
We found Tom slumped in a chair at the table and Ariel staring moodily into space. The wall clock showed that it was almost noon, so we agreed on lunch, which I offered to get, but Ben said he would handle it and there was no need for the rest of us to clear out because he worked well with an audience.
“I’ll applaud like mad if you hit Dad over the head with a frying pan,” said Little Miss Sunshine. “Okay”-holding up her hands-“I just meant he needs waking up.”
“Sorry.” Tom got to his feet and asked Ben, without looking at him, whether he required help finding things.
“No, thanks, I’ve learned my way around.”
“Up early this morning, weren’t you? Hope it wasn’t because you didn’t sleep well.”
“Never better. I wanted to get organized for the tea. All that’s left on that score is to make Miss Pierce’s scones that Mrs. Cake recommends so highly.” Ben was cracking eggs into a bowl. “Mushroom omelets agreeable to everyone?”
“Aren’t we all having the loveliest time?” said Ariel, getting in his way. “Smile, Betty! You look almost as sour as Dad. Didn’t church agree with you either?”
“Will you ever learn to zip your mouth? It wasn’t church, it was bumping into Frances Edmonds afterward and being forced to invite her to tea this afternoon. I thought I had put her off yesterday, by saying we’d have her and Stan on their own next Sunday. But this morning she kept pressing, saying she was dying to meet Lady Fiona, and finally she came out with it.”
“Out with what?” I asked, because nobody else did.
“That I didn’t want my old friends around my posh new ones. That I’ve turned into a raging snob and forgotten that until a few months ago, I lived in a small semi-detached and stood on my feet all day long hairdressing and went home at night to bang plates of baked beans on toast on the table and call it dinner.”
I hadn’t known she was a hairdresser. It explained why Tom thought she could have done something about Ariel’s greasy locks and why the little minx was so intent on not letting her. One more small rebellion for mankind.
“All that pent-up jealousy! It came pouring out of Frances’s mouth. How she and Stan have played the lottery faithfully ever since it started, and we’d bought one bloody ticket and won the jackpot. And how if we’d been any kind of friends, we’d at the very least have paid off their mortgage and bought them a new car, and if we’d been
“Oh, God!” Tom paced around the table. “I did say to you, Betty, that that’s what we should do. They’d have split with us. We’ve known them for years. They’ve been like family: Christmas and birthdays celebrated together. And with my mother gone, neither you nor I have any relations we’re close to.”
That put Ben and me in our place. Fortunately, it didn’t have any impact on his ability to slice mushrooms at lightning speed. I managed my discomfort by getting down plates and setting out cutlery.
“And I told you, Tom,” snapped Betty, “that we need to take our time deciding what we should do for other
