bedroom, and, after a sandwich and coffee, sitting down to write letters to those who had written and sent flowers. She had tea then, and changed into a sweater and skirt, did her hair and face and put a tray ready with coffee. She lighted a small fire in the sitting room, for the evening was chilly, and sat down to wait for Gregory.
He was late. His car wouldn’t start, he explained, adding that he would soon be able to get a new one. He smiled as he said it, but Serena, pouring the coffee, didn’t see that.
They talked for a little while about the funeral, until he put down his cup, saying, ‘Well, Serena, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t get married as soon as we can arrange it. I’ll move in here, of course. I’ve always liked this house. We can modernise it a little—perhaps another bathroom, have the central heating updated, have the rooms redecorated.’ He smiled at her. ‘We must use your money to its best advantage, and you can rely on me getting the best advice as to investing your capital…’
Serena had been pouring herself another cup of coffee. She put the pot down carefully. ‘But this house isn’t mine.’ She sounded quite matter-of-fact about it. ‘Father has left it to charity.’
Gregory said sharply, ‘But he has left you a legacy? He was comfortably off, you know.’
‘Five hundred pounds,’ said Serena, still very matter-of-fact. ‘The rest goes with the house.’
‘But this is preposterous. You must contest the will. What about your brothers?’ Gregory wasn’t only surprised, he was angry. ‘And how are you supposed to live? Something must be done about it at once.’
‘I don’t see why,’ said Serena in a reasonable voice. ‘If this is what Father wanted, why change it? Henry and Matthew are quite happy about it.’ She paused. ‘And if you’re going to marry me, I don’t need to worry, do I?’
Gregory went red. ‘You must see that this alters all my plans, Serena. I’m an ambitious man and I need a secure background, a good living standard, a suitable house…’
‘What you mean is that you need to marry a well-to-do girl. Not me.’
Gregory looked relieved. ‘What a sensible girl you are, Serena. You understand me…’
Serena stood up. ‘Oh, I do, Gregory, and nothing would make me marry you if you were the last man living. Now, will you go away? I don’t want to see you again, and now I come to think about it, I wouldn’t like to be married to you. Run along and find that rich girl!’
Gregory started towards her. ‘Let us part…’ he began.
‘Oh, do go along,’ said Serena.
After he had gone she went to the kitchen to get her supper—scrambled eggs on toast—and, since she felt that this was something of an occasion, she took the keys of the sideboard and chose a bottle of claret.
She ate at the kitchen table, with Puss at her feet enjoying a treat from a tin of sardines. And she drank two glasses of claret. She supposed that she would have been feeling unhappy and worried, but she was pleased to discover that all she felt was relief. She had five hundred pounds and the world before her in which to find the man of her dreams. She tossed back the last of the claret in her glass.
There was no need to look for him. She had already found him, although she wasn’t sure if a brief acquaintance with Dr van Doelen was sufficient to clinch the matter. She thought not. Indeed, it was unlikely that their paths would cross in the future. She would do better to get herself a job and hope to meet a man as like him as possible.
Nicely buoyed up, she by the claret and Puss by an excess of sardines, they went upstairs to bed and slept dreamlessly.
Henry came in the morning, telling her importantly that he had taken a few hours off in order to look round the house and claim anything to which he was entitled. Which turned out to be quite a lot: the table silver, a claret jug and three spirit bottles in a metal frame, and the best part of a Spoke tea service which had belonged to their mother, that Matthew would have no use for nor would Serena, Henry pointed out.
‘But I have no doubt that Matthew will be glad to have the dinner service. Father bought it from Selfridges, I believe, so anything which may break can be replaced. There’s the new coffee percolator, too; I’ll leave that for him. Where is the Wedgwood biscuit barrel, Serena?’
‘In the cupboard in the dining room, Henry. Shouldn’t you wait and see what Matthew wants—and what I might want?’
‘My dear girl, Matthew will want useful things which he can use in his home. Remember that he is, after all, living in a very small house, and has no social life worth mentioning.’
‘But he will have when he gets a parish of his own…’
Henry ignored that. ‘And you—you won’t want to be lumbered with a number of useless things.’
‘I don’t know why you say that, Henry. You have no idea what I am going to do or where I’m going. You don’t want to know, do you? Do you know that Gregory has jilted me? Or perhaps I should say he jilted my five hundred pounds.’ She added bleakly, ‘I thought he wanted to marry me, but all he wanted was this house and the money he thought Father would be sure to leave me.’
Henry looked uncomfortable. ‘You must understand, Serena, that Gregory has his way to make in the world.’
‘And what about me?’
‘You’re quite able to find a good job and do very well. You might even marry.’
Serena picked up a fairing from the side-table in the drawing room, where Henry was inspecting the contents of a china cabinet. The fairing was small, a man and woman holding hands, crudely done, yet charming. The kind of thing Henry and Matthew would find worthless. She would keep it for herself, a reminder of her home in happier days when her mother had been alive.
Henry bore away what he considered to be his; he had written a list of various other things, too. Serena hoped that Matthew wouldn’t wait too long before making his own choice. Henry was obviously going to exert his rights as elder son.
Matthew came the next day, bringing his wife with him. The dinner service was packed up, as was an early-morning teaset which hadn’t been used since their mother died. To these were added two bedspreads, a quantity of bedlinen, the cushions from the drawing room and, at the last moment, the rather ugly clock on the mantelpiece.
‘We shall probably be back,’ said Matthew’s wife as they left.
‘My turn,’ said Serena to Puss, and went slowly from room to room. She would take only small things that would go in her case or the trunk: her mother’s workbox, family photographs, two china figurines to keep the fairing company, a little watercolour of the house her mother had painted. She tried to be sensible and think of things which would be of use to her in the future. The silver-framed travelling clock which had stood on the table by her father’s bed, writing paper and pens, the cat basket from the attic—for of course Puss would go with her.
But where would she go? Mr Perkins had told her that she would be able to stay at the house for two or three weeks. Tomorrow, she decided, she would go to Yeovil and go to as many employment agencies as possible.
Without much success, as it turned out. She had no qualifications, and she couldn’t type, the computer was a mystery to her, and
