get to The Towers in time for work. They could have walked down together if he hadn’t disappeared so quickly. Oh well, perhaps he was just the moody type. She just hoped he was in a more friendly mood the next time she saw him.
She took her mother another cup of tea before leaving, assuring her that all the jobs around the farm had been taken care of.
‘No one told me how good-looking Jeff is.’ She plumped her mother’s pillows for her.
Her mother frowned. ‘Jeff Robbins?’
‘Mm. He’s really gorgeous!’
‘If you like that type. Has he just been down, then?’
‘Mm. He says the tractor needs expert attention. And tell Brian he said he could have one of The Towers’ tractors. Although what Snooty Mr Towers will say to that I don’t know.’
Her mother gave her a disapproving look. ‘I hope you didn’t talk about him like that to Jeff. He’s very loyal to Mr Towers.’
‘Mm,’ Megan sighed. ‘He didn’t seem to like it when I made a comment about his employer.’
‘What sort of comment?’ her mother asked worriedly. ‘You didn’t say anything insulting, did you, Megan? Jeff’s a friend of Brian’s, and—–’
‘Don’t worry so, Mum,’ she soothed. ‘Whatever I said it didn’t seem to bother him. He asked me out to dinner a little while later.’
‘Jeff did? But I thought he was taking out Rachel Saunders.’
That wouldn’t surprise her; he looked the sort of man who would already have a girl-friend, and Rachel Saunders was very beautiful. She and Megan had been at school together, although the two of them had never been friends, as Rachel was three years her senior. Megan remembered she had had a crush on Trevor Dunn, the boy Rachel had become engaged to. The engagement had later been broken, but the dislike had stuck.
‘Well, I’m not going, so it doesn’t really matter. Now I’m off to The Towers. Don’t forget to tell Brian about the tractor.’
‘I won’t, dear. And tell Mrs Reece I’ll try and be in tomorrow.’
‘I’ll tell her no such thing,’ Megan said firmly. ‘You’re going to stay right here until you’re completely better. I don’t mind going to The Towers.’ Especially if she got the chance of seeing Jeff Robbins again.
The Towers was a grey stone building, a massive place with at least fifteen bedrooms. It had belonged to Henry Towers until his death last year, and now it belonged to his nephew Jerome. Old Squire Towers, as Henry had been called, had run into debt over the estate, refusing to ask his nephew for help, claiming he was a pompous snob who would gloat over his uncle’s misfortune, and instead the Squire had resorted to selling off parts of the estate.
Of course the nephew had bought back all these smallholdings—except theirs!—and so old Squire Towers might just as well have asked him for the help in the first place. But at least this way he had been spared the humiliation of approaching his nephew with a begging bowl. The fact that Jerome Towers was a millionaire, and his uncle was scraping together every penny he could, should have told the former that unless he offered his help it would never be asked for. Obviously by the sale of the land he had never offered.
Megan walked up the long gravel driveway, admiring the rambling beauty of the house and accompanying stables, and walked around the back of the house to knock nervously on the kitchen door. It wouldn’t do for her to knock on the front door, not when she was just hired help!
A short, plump, red-faced woman opened the door, her ample frame covered by a paisley patterned overall. This just had to be Freda, the cook.
‘Yes, love?’ she smiled.
Megan smiled back shyly, and explained about her mother’s illness and the fact that she had come as her replacement.
Freda was suitably sympathetic about Emily Finch’s illness, although she looked rather harassed. ‘Thank goodness you’re here, love, that’s all I can say,’ she sighed. ‘Patsy’s not come in today either, and I’ve just cooked Mr Towers’ brother’s breakfast and there’s no one to take it up but me. I don’t like showing myself in the main part of the house. I’m a cook,’ she smiled happily, her three chins wobbling, ‘and a cook’s place is in the kitchen.’
And if this woman was any advert for the success of her own cooking it must indeed be first class!
‘Isn’t it a bit late for breakfast?’ Megan asked, hanging her jacket up behind the door. She had changed into a tan wool blouse and deep brown skirt, as her denims were hardly suitable for working here. Especially if she had to run all over the house with breakfast trays!
‘That it is. But he’s been having a bit of a rest. He only arrived yesterday.’
‘Well, so had she, but that didn’t mean she could laze about in bed all morning. In fact, she had been up earlier this morning than she usually was. ‘I didn’t know Mr Towers had a brother,’ she said interestedly, having thought him an only child.
‘Neither did we.’ Freda put a rack of toast on the tray with the plate of sausages, eggs and tomatoes. ‘Not until he arrived.’
He sounded exactly like his brother, thoughtless and selfish. ‘Shall I take the tray through now?’ Megan offered.
‘I’ll just put this pot of tea on, he likes tea in the morning. There!’ she looked down at her handiwork, ‘that ought to keep body and soul together until lunchtime.’
As it was almost that now, Megan wouldn’t be at all surprised. ‘Which way is the dining-room?’ she asked,
‘Oh, he isn’t in the dining-room, love,’ Freda smiled. ‘He’s upstairs in his bedroom.’
‘Oh,’ After her recent experience at the hospital she wasn’t sure she dared risk going to any man’s bedroom.
‘At the top of the stairs, fourth door on the right,’ Freda directed, not noticing her reluctance. ‘It’s very good of you to stand in for your mum, Megan. A good worker, is your mum.’
Megan knew that. Her mother had never been able to sit idle while there was work waiting to be done, and as there was usually plenty of work to do on the farm … ‘The rest will do her good,’ she smiled. ‘And I’ll do my best to take her place.’
‘I’m sure you will, love. I didn’t mean—–’
‘I know you didn’t,’ Megan laughed, knowing very well that this friendly lady had meant it as a compliment to her mother. ‘I’ll try not to be long with this,’ she promised.
She had the impression of unobtrusive luxury as she walked through the house, The Towers having been completely redecorated and refurnished before the new owner had moved in. The workmen had been working on the place for weeks before Jerome Towers moved in. Megan didn’t pause over her admiration of the new colour schemes, not wanting to arrive at the bedroom with a cold breakfast.
Not that she didn’t think the man deserved it. It was typical of Jerome Towers’ brother to arrive on the doorstep unannounced and then want to be waited on hand and foot. Breakfast in bed at ten-thirty
