all the little cat was on her knee and he was sitting beside her, reversing the big car and driving back the way he had came.
‘Is there a vet close by?’ she asked.
‘I’ve no idea, I’m taking him to my own vet.’ The tone of his voice didn’t encourage her to talk; she sat without speaking until he turned down a narrow street and pulled up before a small door in a high wall. ‘Wait here,’ he told her, and got out and went through the door, to return very shortly with a short thin man who nodded at her, eased the cat on to what looked like a miniature stretcher, and went back through the door. The Professor went with him and she was left sitting there, suddenly in a frightful state because she had remembered that she should have been at her desk all of twenty minutes ago. Probably she would get the sack, she thought unhappily, in which case she was entitled to a week’s salary? Or was she entitled to no salary at all?
When, after another five minutes, Professor Cator returned she turned to him with a worried face. ‘I’m so late…’ and then, because the little cat was really more important: ‘Can the vet do something? Will it be all right?’
The Professor got in beside her. ‘Yes, he’ll set the legs and look after the little beast until it’s fit to go to whoever will have it.’ He gave her a sideways look as he spoke. ‘You?’ he asked blandly.
She said at once: ‘Yes, of course. The fees…?’
‘The vet never charges for this kind of accident.’ He watched the relief on her face with detached amusement. ‘I telephoned my aunt and explained why you would be late.’
He was driving back the way they had come, showing no further interest in her.
‘Oh, did you? How kind—I was a bit worried. I mean, Lady Manderly likes me to be punctual, and I thought…that is, I was afraid she might have given me the sack.’
He said casually: ‘Yes, I was surprised she was so forbearing. You’ll only be half an hour or so late, though.’
‘Yes, and I can make it up this evening.’
‘You live close by?’
‘Yes, quite a short walk.’ She had no intention of telling him where. The little newspaper shop was hardly a good address; even as she thought it she felt mean. Mrs Adams and Shirley were kind and friendly and however poky her room was, it was her own while she paid the rent. ‘I’m very comfortable at the flat,’ she told him with a shade of defiance and a regrettable lack of truth, and was sorry she had said it, because he didn’t show any interest. She doubted if he was listening; he was probably bored stiff by the whole little episode.
She was left to face Lady Manderly alone. The Professor gave her a curt nod when they reached the house, leaned over and opened the door for her and drove off without a second glance.
‘Rather rude,’ muttered Jemima, and thumped the door knocker with unnecessary violence.
Belling admitted her and allowed a faint sympathetic smile to crease his bland features. ‘Lady Manderly is in the small sitting room, miss, if you would go up at once.’
Lady Manderly, empurpled with ill humour, received her coldly. ‘It is to be hoped,’ she uttered sternly, ‘that you will not make a habit of rescuing animals when you should be here working for me.’
‘It’s to be hoped that there won’t be any more animals to rescue,’ observed Jemima reasonably. ‘I’m sorry I’m late, Lady Manderly, but I couldn’t have left that cat lying there in the middle of the road…’
Her employer raised a majestic hand. ‘Spare me the details, Miss Mason, I do not wish to hear them.’
‘That’s the trouble, isn’t it?’ said Jemima equably. ‘People never want to hear about misery and pain, do they?’
Lady Manderly drew in a hissing breath, lifted her lorgnette and stared at Jemima through them, and then flung them back on to her generous front so fiercely that the chain snapped and the whole lot fell on to the carpet.
‘There, now see what you’ve done,’ said Jemima chidingly. ‘I told you that specs would be easier for you.’ She got down on her knees and picked up the broken chain. ‘I’ll get some thread and tie the links together until we can get it mended.’
Lady Manderly was opening and closing her mouth like a dying fish, struggling to get out words. At last she managed: ‘You are a forward girl…’
‘I don’t mean to be,’ said Jemima, and smiled nicely at the cross face.
‘Would you like me to read to you first this morning, there don’t seem to be many letters.’ She glanced at the unopened pile on the desk.
‘Very well,’ said Lady Manderly ungraciously, and then: ‘Really, I don’t know if you will suit, Miss Mason.’
Jemima’s heart sank, but she turned a calm face to her employer.
‘Would you like me to draft another advertisement?’ she asked matter-of-factly.
Lady Manderly bristled. ‘You don’t like your work here? You wish to leave?’
‘Me? Heavens, no! I’m very happy, you see I had an invalid mother to look after for a few years and I—I miss caring for someone.’
Lady Manderly’s rather protuberant eyes popped out still further and for once she had no answer. Jemima hadn’t expected one, she skimmed through the news, picking out the choicest bits. ‘Shall I start reading, Lady Manderly?’ she asked.
‘Yes, you may do so, Miss Mason. You say that you are happy here—that being so, I am prepared to overlook your lateness this morning. After all, my nephew seems to think that you are a good enough young woman.’
‘How very kind of him,’ said Jemima softly and her fine eyes sparkled with temper at the arrogance of it.
‘So you will stay?’ asked Lady Manderly, and Jemima detected the tiniest hint of wistfulness in the commanding voice.
‘Yes, I’d like to, Lady Manderly.’ She smiled at the lady and picked up the paper. ‘There is a report on the PM’s speech—shall I read it to you first?’
The morning went as usual after that, and at lunch time, Lady Manderly made gracious conversation, presumably offering an olive branch of sorts. Jemima was a good listener; they rose from the table in charity with each other and Jemima, having seen Lady Manderly safely tucked up in the drawing room, whisked herself out of the house with Coco, just as eager for a walk as she was.
It was almost six o’clock, and Jemima was just finishing the last of the letters when the phone rang.
‘You leave at five o’clock, do you not?’ asked the Professor into her ear.
‘No, I don’t, Professor.’ Remembering that he had called her a good enough young woman, she asked in a freezing voice: ‘You wish to speak to Lady Manderly?’
‘No, not particularly, I thought you might like to know that the little cat is recovering nicely. Have you attempted to find out if it belongs to anyone?’
‘How could I do that?’ she asked with a snap. ‘I’ve
