day,’ explained Mrs Adams. ‘Well, what did you eat?’
‘Soup—just a little bowl full—a clear soup.’
Shirley sniffed. ‘Bovril watered down!’
‘And then a fish soufflé with spinach and afterwards a crème caramel.’
‘Not enough to put into a hollow tooth, I’ll be bound. Tell you what, love, you can eat with us in the evenings for another two pounds a week. Shan’t make anything out of it, but it’s just as easy to cook for three as two and it’ll give you a bit more time to enjoy yourself.’ Mrs Adams added sharply: ‘There ain’t no butler, mind, nor no pudding for afters. Just a cup of tea.’
‘You’re very kind, Mrs Adams, and I’d love to do that if you’re sure it doesn’t put you out. Only if you have visitors will you say so and I’ll have supper in my room? It’ll be lovely to come back to a meal in the evenings, it seemed a long day, but I daresay once I know more about the work, the days will go faster.’
Shirley gave her a look of sympathy tinged with pity. ‘Sounds like a dull old job to me,’ she observed. ‘Any men around?’
‘There’s Belling the butler, but he’s elderly and a bit severe…’ She hesitated and Shirley said quickly: ‘And someone else?’
‘He doesn’t really count,’ said Jemima slowly. ‘He’s Lady Manderly’s nephew—a Professor of Endocrinology, but he doesn’t live there. He came this afternoon with a girl, an absolutely gorgeous creature. You know, golden hair and blue eyes and most wonderful clothes—those knickerbockers, and a waistcoat and the most heavenly boots.’
‘Got ’im ’ooked, ’as she?’ Mrs Adams wanted to know. ‘I don’t ’old with them knickers, nor don’t Shirley’s young man.’
Shirley pouted. ‘Old-fashioned, that’s what ’e is,’ she complained, ‘always talking about moons and roses and Ginger Rogers dresses!’
‘Well, they were rather fetching,’ said Jemima, and far safer for Shirley, she thought privately; such a nice friendly girl, but her legs didn’t bear too much limelight on them. Nor do mine, for that matter, thought Jemima, erroneously, as a matter of fact; she had nice legs, but since no one had ever told her so, she took it for granted that they were better concealed by a skirt.
She helped with the washing up presently and then went to her room to write to Dick before making herself a mug of cocoa on the gas ring. She lit the gas fire, and sitting up in bed, reading, belatedly, the morning paper, she decided that the little room wasn’t too bad at all. Tomorrow she would buy some flowers, she promised herself, and in a week or two, when she had a little money to spare, she would buy one of those cheerful coloured rugs and a cushion or two. She didn’t allow herself to think about her old home; it had gone for good, and she had been lucky to find someone as kind as Mrs Adams. She turned out the fire and the light and closed her eyes. She had a job too, although she wondered sleepily just how long she would keep it. Lady Manderly was an old tyrant and Jemima, although tolerant to a fault, had no intention of being anyone’s doormat. She would see how the cat jumped, but meanwhile, she told herself resolutely, she was both happy and content. Not quite, perhaps; no girl, however happy and content, liked to be told that she wouldn’t set the Thames on fire. ‘Beastly man,’ said Jemima aloud, and went to sleep.
It was all go the next day. Lady Manderly, disappointed that Jemima should present herself exactly at nine o’clock, was inclined to be tetchy and had to content herself with the remark that she hoped that Jemima would continue to be punctual each morning. ‘As punctual as you were leaving yesterday evening,’ she added sourly.
Jemima agreed with her cheerfully and began sorting the post. She followed yesterday’s pattern exactly so that beyond a frustrated snort from her employer, nothing had to be said. It was fortunate that the paper reported at great length the wedding of a peer of the realm’s daughter. Jemima prudently earmarked it for reading, discarded the more gloomy titbits, studied the weather forecast, found an amusing story about a dog purported to play the piano, and held herself ready to receive Lady Manderly’s instructions.
There were a great many of them, and they kept Jemima occupied for the rest of the morning, so that, by the time they had had lunch and she had taken Coco for a long-delayed walk, it was time for the tea tray to be brought in, and since there was no Professor and no Gloria today, she was able to drink her tea in comparative peace, if she discounted Lady Manderly’s frequent demands for this that and the other to be done at once.
She left the house promptly, shared a supper of toad-in-the-hole with Shirley and her mother and then, unable to bear her little room after the spaciousness of Lady Manderly’s house, went for a walk. It was a cool evening and she walked fast, not noticing where she went and when she got back to her little room she was tired enough to go straight to bed and sleep, which was a good thing, for she was feeling utterly miserable.
But with the morning she felt better. Here she was half way through the week, and pay day within sight too. She presented a calm face towards Lady Manderly, carried out her manifold duties and went back to the flat that evening feeling that at least she was holding her own. And for the next couple of days she was busy enough not to have the time to mope, indeed she was surprised to find that she was actually beginning to enjoy herself. True, Lady Manderly never ceased to remind her that she had no qualifications of any sort and that a girl in her position should be able to type at the very least, but on the other hand, she was forced to concede that Jemima had a pleasant voice, good manners and didn’t answer back. On the whole, they were beginning to like each other, in a guarded way.
It was raining when Jemima left for work the next morning, with a mean little wind which hinted of winter ahead. She skimmed along into its teeth and was almost at the house when a car, driven too fast, forced her against the railings, checked momentarily, and then drove off.
Jemima looked at her mud-spattered legs. ‘The horrible wretch!’ she muttered with a good deal of feeling, and then repeated herself at the sight of the furry heap in the middle of the road. It mewed soundlessly and stared at her with beseeching eyes, and she went to it at once, kneeling down in the muddy road to touch it with a gentle hand. ‘Oh, my poor dear!’ She was so angry and upset she could hardly get the words out. ‘That devil! Let me take a look.’
The little beast lay still as she felt it carefully through its sodden fur, but it bared its teeth as she touched its hind legs. She would have to get it to a vet as quickly as possible. She stroked its head while she thought what was best to be done. Lady Manderly’s house was only a few doors away, she could at least telephone from there, but the thought of leaving the little cat in the road made her hesitate. If only someone would come…
She barely heard the car purring to a halt, but she looked round when the car door was slammed and someone came towards her. Professor Cator. She wasted no time. ‘Oh, good, I’m glad it’s you,’ she told him urgently. ‘Some fiend ran over this poor little beast not five minutes ago and didn’t stop. I think he’s broken his back legs, but I’m not sure. Would you mind telephoning a vet for me, I can’t leave him here.’
The Professor didn’t say anything, only crouched down beside her and looked closely at the animal. ‘Go and get into the car,’ he told her. ‘I’ll bring him over to you, he can lie on your lap—it’ll be much easier to take him to a vet straight away.’
She hesitated. ‘Yes, but won’t you hurt him?’
He said dryly: ‘Not intentionally, Miss Mason, and he can’t stay here.’
Jemima
