across the kitchen table and the loaf of bread left out drying among a pile of crumbs.
‘You’ve grasped the situation precisely,’ Frederick replied, sounding delighted. ‘When were you thinking of starting?’
‘Tomorrow – would that suit you? Shall I do mornings and see how we get on?’
Evie gasped. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Even Grandma Sue didn’t take the lead like that without discussing things first.
‘But, Mum—’ she started.
‘I don’t doubt we’ll get on brilliantly, Jeanie,’ said Frederick, extending his hand to shake hers.
‘So what happened then?’ asked Sue, pouring cups of tea to wash down their lunchtime sandwiches. Michael had returned to Clackett’s for the afternoon, pleased with the news of the low rent and his wife’s new job, and the boys had gone out to play somewhere.
Jeanie and Evie were telling Sue more about their morning in Redmond. The way her mother recounted the events once she and Evie had entered Frederick Bailey’s house lacked some detail; so much so that Evie thought it was just one version of the meeting with their landlord and she might have told it in altogether another way. Nonetheless, it was a sort of truth.
‘He showed us round the house so that I could see exactly how much work it’s going to be. He’s an art and antiques dealer – buys and sells old things like paintings and ornaments, pretty but useless – and the house is full of the stuff. It’s everywhere and it all needs to be dusted. He says some of it is quite valuable and I’m to be careful.’
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