letter was a reply to her application for the post of general helper at a geriatric hospital on the outskirts of Southampton. She had applied for it for the simple reason that there had been nothing else advertised, and she hadn’t expected a reply.
Providing that her references were satisfactory, the job was hers. Her duties were vague, and the money was less than she had hoped for, but on the other hand she could start as soon as her references had been checked. It would solve the problem of her immediate future, set her mother’s mind at rest and put a little money into her pocket.
She didn’t see her mother until the three of them were sitting down to lunch, but she deduced from the faintly smug look on that lady’s face that her talk with Dr Willis had been entirely satisfactory. It wasn’t until they left the house together to take Rob for another walk that they were able to talk.
‘When’s the wedding?’ asked Claudia as soon as they had left the house.
Her mother laughed. ‘Darling, I’m not sure. I won’t marry George until you’re settled…’
‘Then he’d better get a licence as soon as he can. I’ve got a job—in Southampton at one of the hospitals. I had the letter this morning.’
Mrs Ramsay beamed at her. ‘Oh, Claudia, really? I mean, it’s something you want to do, not just any old job you’re taking to make things easy for us?’
To tell a lie was sometimes necessary, reflected Claudia, if it was to a good purpose, and surely this was. ‘It’s exactly what I’m looking for—quite good money and I can come back here for weekends and holidays, if George will have me?’
‘Of course we’ll have you.’ Her mother squeezed her arm. ‘Isn’t it strange how everything is coming right despite Uncle William’s horrid cousin? And George has found a place for Jennie—they were looking for someone up at the Manor, so she will still keep her friends in the village and see Mrs Pratt and Tombs if she wants to.’
‘Good. Now, when will you marry?’
‘Well, as soon as George can get a licence.’
‘You’ll stay with him, of course?’
‘Mrs Pratt and Tombs will be with me.’
‘Mr Ramsay wants to talk to you about his plans. He didn’t say anything at lunch…’
‘Perhaps this evening.’
He was waiting for them when they got back. ‘Be good enough to come to my study?’ he asked Mrs Ramsay. ‘I dare say Claudia has things to do.’
Dismissed, she went to her room; there were clothes to pack and small, treasured ornaments she had been given since childhood to be wrapped and stowed in boxes. As soon as Mr Ramsay went back to York Dr Willis would come and load up his car and stow everything they didn’t want in his attics.
She hoped that the new owner of the house would stay away for several days, for they all intended to be gone, the house empty of people, by the time he and his wife arrived. He had said nothing to Tombs or Mrs Pratt, nor to Jennie; perhaps he expected them to stay on until he saw fit to discharge Tombs. He was arrogant enough to suppose that Mrs Pratt and Jennie would be only too thankful to remain in his service.
Since it was teatime, she went downstairs and found her mother in the morning room. There was no sign of Mr Ramsay, and at her questioning look Mrs Ramsay said, ‘He’s gone to see the vicar. He’s going to York tomorrow afternoon and returning with Monica in two days’ time. I am to tell Mrs Pratt and Jennie that they are to stay on in his employment—he hasn’t bothered to ask them if they want to—and I’m to dismiss Tombs.’
‘Why doesn’t he do his own dirty work?’ demanded Claudia. ‘What else?’
‘He avoided asking me where you and I were going; he made some remark about us having friends and he was sure we had sufficient funds to tide us over until we had settled somewhere.’
‘Mother, he’s despicable. Does he know about you and George?’
‘No, I’m sure he doesn’t, for he made a great thing of offering to send on our belongings once we had left.’
‘Have you had a chance to tell Tombs?’
‘No, I’d better go now; if he comes back, come and let me know.’
Not a word was said about their departure during dinner, and the following day Mr Ramsay got into his car and drove himself back to York.
‘You may, of course, remain until the day following our return,’ he told Mrs Ramsay. ‘Monica will wish to be shown round the house.’ He looked over her head, avoiding her eyes. ‘Kindly see that Tombs has gone by the time we return.’
He turned back at the door. ‘It will probably be late afternoon by the time we get here. Tell Mrs Pratt to have a meal ready and see that the maid has the rooms warm.’
Mrs Ramsay lowered her eyes and said, ‘Yes,’ meekly. She looked very like her daughter. ‘I’m sure that if you think of anything else you will phone as soon as you get home.’
They waited a prudent hour before starting on their packing up. He was, observed Claudia, the kind of man who would sneak back to make sure that they weren’t making off with the spoons. They collected their belongings, taking only what was theirs, and presently, when Dr Willis drove up, loaded his car. Mr Ramsay had said two days before he returned, but to be on the safe side they had decided to move out on the following day.
Dr Willis would have taken them all to his house for supper, but they refused and, while Mrs Pratt got a meal for them, began on the business of leaving the house in perfect condition. Tombs was set to polish the silver, Jennie saw to the bedrooms, and Claudia and her mother hoovered and dusted downstairs. After supper, tired but happy, they all went to bed.
They were up early in the morning, making sure that there was nothing with which the new owner could find fault, and as soon as the morning surgery was over Dr Willis came to fetch them to his house. He had to make two journeys, and Claudia left last of all, wheeling her bike and leading Rob on his lead. Mr Ramsay had a key—he had taken care to have all of the keys in his possession—but she had a key to the garden door which she had kept. She wasn’t sure why and she didn’t intend to tell anyone.
Dr Willis’s housekeeper had already left, and Mrs Pratt slipped into the kitchen as though she had been there all her life, taking Tombs and Jennie with her.
‘There are an awful lot of us,’ worried Mrs Ramsay as they ate the lunch the unflappable Mrs Pratt had produced.
‘The house is large enough, my dear, and Jennie goes to her new job tomorrow.’
‘And I go to mine in a day or two,’ said Claudia.
‘You’re quite happy about it?’ he asked her kindly. ‘There’s no hurry, you know.’
‘It sounds just what I’m looking for. When will you marry? I’d like to come to the wedding.’
‘Darling, we wouldn’t dream of getting married unless you were there.’
‘Within the week, I hope,’ said George. ‘Very quiet, of course, just us and a
