her housekeeper, to her eldest great-niece, Louise Payne. If Miss Payne would have the goodness to call at the above address, matters would be made clear to her.
Louise read the letter again, slowly this time, not quite believing it; she had never doubted that miracles did happen, but she hadn’t expected one to happen to her. She read the letter again and then, being a practical person, got her coat and her purse and went across the street to the corner shop where there was a telephone box.
In answer to her request to speak to Mr Ridgely, a vinegary voice asked which one.
‘Well, I don’t suppose it matters, if you could just say that it is Miss Louise Payne.’
From the dry-as-dust voice which came on the line, she supposed that she was speaking to the most senior of the Mr Ridgelys. It sounded a little shaky, but assured her that the contents of the letter were, in fact, true. ‘Solicitors, young lady, are not given to levity,’ said the voice peevishly.
‘So sorry,’ said Louise, ‘but it is a surprise. Shall I come and see you today?’
‘By all means. I shall place your affairs in the hands of Mr Gerald Ridgely, who will apprise you of all the details. If you could make it convenient to see him at noon, today?’
She got there with a few minutes to spare; there had been time for her to change into the suit she had bought at Country Casuals’ sale; it wasn’t quite warm enough for the chilly March day, but she felt well dressed in it. Her abundant hair she had pinned neatly into a chignon, and her shoes were well polished. After all, it was a momentous occasion, worthy of her best efforts.
The solicitors had rooms in an old house just off Holborn; steep stairs led her to the first floor, where she found a vinegar-faced and very thin woman at a desk. Upon hearing her name, the woman led her wordlessly to a door at the end of a short passage.
The man who rose to shake her hand was grey-haired and looked as though he needed a thorough dusting. ‘Young Mr Ridgely,’ intoned the thin woman and left them. Louise took the chair she was offered, wondering just how old the elder Mr Ridgely might be if this was the young one, and dismissed the thought as frivolous.
‘You are Miss Louise Payne?’ The dusty gentleman sounded suspicious. She opened her bag and produced her birth certificate, thankful that she had had the wit to bring it with her. He read it carefully and slowly, and nodded several times, and then opened the file in front of him.
‘You know of your great-aunt’s house and where it is situated?’
‘Oh, yes. Although I haven’t been there for a very long time. My parents took us there several times when they were alive.’ Just in case he was still suspicious, she added, ‘A small white house on a corner with trees around it.’
‘Just so, Miss Payne. There are of course some changes in Much Hadham; it is a much sought-after area in which to live, being near enough to London for those who work here to commute. You could get a very good price for the house…’
Louise shook her head. ‘I haven’t had a chance to talk it over with my sisters and brother, but I think they will want to live there—I know I do.’
He looked at her over his old-fashioned, gold-rimmed spectacles. ‘I understand that you are a night sister at St Nicholas’s Hospital? You will be able to continue your work there if you should decide to live in your great-aunt’s house?’
‘Oh, no. I would have to find another job—Bishop’s Stortford or Stevenage, I suppose, but it would be marvellous for Christine and Michael; they’re still both at school and not very happy where they are now. Zoë, who is nearly nineteen, is just finishing a secretarial course and, I hope, will get a job.’
‘There is very little money in your great-aunt’s estate; she has made provision for her housekeeper—’ he glanced at the files ‘—Miss Wills, who is already in receipt of her retirement pension.’ He coughed drily. ‘The sum of one thousand, four hundred and twenty three pounds, eighty-five pence is available to you; such debts, funeral expenses and so forth have already been discharged.’
Louise, with a bank balance of slightly less than a thousand pence, managed to restrain her yelp of delight. She asked, she hoped not too eagerly, ‘Is the house furnished?’
‘Yes. I should add that when I was last there, a good deal of it was too large for the house; mid-Victorian. Do you have your own furniture?’
‘Well, yes, not a great deal, but what there is is rather nice—left from the house where we lived before we came to London.’
‘Then if I might advise you, Miss Payne, I should visit your great-aunt’s house—your house, I should say! It is called Ivy Cottage, by the way—and decide what you wish to keep; the rest you might sell and add to your capital. The money due to you will be paid into your bank if you will be so good as to let me have particulars of that before you go. The house is empty and I will give you the keys now.’
He handed over a bunch of old-fashioned keys, each one labelled. ‘If there is anything I can do for you, do not hesitate to let me know. Now, if I might have the name of your bank?’
They parted soberly, because young Mr Ridgely would have been shocked if she had hugged him or danced a jig of pure joy on his Turkish carpet. She walked away from the sombre building with her feet upon air, her head full of a hundred and one ideas, most of them highly impractical. It was an occasion for champagne, singing and dancing, none of which would go down well in High Holborn. A bus home, she decided, allowing the sensible side of her nature to get the upper hand, a strong cup of tea and a good think.
Here fate took a hand: Dr van der Linden, going about his own business on the opposite side of the street, caught sight of her and, even at that distance, he could see the glow of sheer happiness on her face. Intrigued, he crossed over.
‘Either you have won the pools or you have accepted an offer of marriage from a millionaire,’ he observed, not bothering with a good morning.
Louise raised her lovely eyes to his. She was in such a state that it seemed perfectly natural that he should join her there on the pavement; rather like a dream, when the most extraordinary things seemed quite normal.
‘I don’t know any millionaires, and I can’t afford the pools, but yes, something quite marvellous has happened.’
‘In that case, come and tell me all about it.’
He didn’t wait for her to answer, but took her arm and walked up Grays Inn Road and turned into Theobald’s Road, where he ushered her into a smart brasserie.
As they went inside, Louise said half-heartedly, ‘But I must get home.’
‘Of course, but you may as well lunch with me now we are here.’
It was not yet one o’clock; they had a table for two by the window and Dr van der Linden said, ‘Whatever it is, you are in no state to order a meal. Allow me?’
She would have eaten dry bread and water quite cheerfully; as it was, she polished off salmon mousse, a cheese soufflé of incredible lightness and fresh pineapple doused in kirsch and whipped cream, all the while only half listening to her companion’s easy flow of small talk. It was only when the coffee-tray had been set before them that he said, ‘Now, supposing you unburden yourself; it won’t seem real until you do.’
She
