style="font-size:15px;"> She poured her own tea, and put a mug beside Jane. ‘Has Grandfather had a good day?’
‘He had a letter that upset him, Miss Lally.’ Jane’s nice elderly face looked worried. ‘You know how it is; something bothers him and he gets that upset.’
‘I’ll go and sit with him for a bit.’ Eulalia swallowed the rest of her tea, paused to stroke Dickens, the cat, asleep by the stove, and made her way upstairs.
The Colonel had a room on the first floor of the house at the front. It was a handsome apartment furnished with heavy mahogany pieces of the Victorian period. They had been his grandparents’ and although the other rooms were furnished mostly with Regency pieces he loved the solid bulk of wardrobe, dressing table and vast tallboy.
He was sitting in his chair by the gas fire, reading, when she tapped on the door and went in.
He turned his bony old face with its formidable nose towards her and put his book down. ‘Lally—jut in time to pour my whisky. Come and sit down and tell me about your day.’
She gave him his drink and sat down on a cross-framed stool, its tapestry almost threadbare, and gave him a light-hearted account of it, making much of its lighter moments. But although he chuckled from time to time he was unusually silent, so that presently she asked, ‘Something’s wrong, Grandfather?’
‘Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about, Lally. Stocks and shares aren’t a woman’s business and it is merely a temporary setback.’
Lally murmured soothingly. Grandfather belonged to the generation which considered that women had nothing to do with a man’s world, and it was rather late in the day to argue with him about that.
She said cheerfully into the little silence, ‘Jane and I were only saying this morning that it was a waste of gas and electricity keeping the drawing room open. I never go in there, and if anyone comes to call we can use the morning room…’
‘I’ll not have you living in the kitchen,’ said the Colonel tetchily.
‘Well, of course not,’ agreed Lally cheerfully, and thought how easy it was to tell fibs once she got started. ‘But you must agree that the drawing room takes a lot of time to get warm even with the central heating on all day. We could cut it down for a few hours.’
He agreed reluctantly and she heaved a sigh of relief. The drawing room had been unheated for weeks and so, in fact, had most of the rooms in the house; only her grandfather’s room was warm, as was the small passage leading to an equally warm bathroom. Lally wasn’t deceitful but needs must when the devil drove…
She went back to the kitchen presently and ate her supper with Jane while they planned and plotted ways and means of cutting down expenses.
It was ridiculous, thought Eulalia, that they had to go on living in this big house just because some ancestor had arranged matters to please himself. Her grandfather couldn’t even let it to anyone; he must live in it until he died and pass it on to a nephew who lived on the other side of the world. The family solicitor had done his best but the law, however quaint, was the law. Trusts, however ancient, couldn’t be overset unless one was prepared to spend a great deal of money and probably years of learned arguing…
Eulalia ate her supper, helped Jane tidy the kitchen and observed with satisfaction that tomorrow was Saturday.
‘I’ll get Grandfather into his chair and then do the shopping.’
She frowned as she spoke; pay day was still a week away and the housekeeping purse was almost empty. The Colonel’s pension was just enough to pay for the maintenance of the house and Jane’s wages; her own wages paid for food and what Jane called keeping up appearances.
What we need, reflected Eulalia, is a miracle. And one was about to happen.
There was no sign of it in the morning, though. Jane was upstairs making the beds, the Colonel had been heaved from his bed and sat in his chair and Eulalia had loaded the washing machine and sat down to make a shopping list. Breast of chicken for the Colonel, macaroni cheese for Jane and herself, tea, sugar, butter… She was debating the merits of steak and kidney pudding over those of a casserole when the washing machine, long past its prime, came to a shuddering stop.
Usually it responded to a thump, even a sharp kick, but this morning it remained ominously silent. Extreme measures must be taken, decided Eulalia, and searched for a spanner—a useful tool she had discovered when there was no money for a plumber…
Mr van der Leurs, unaware that he was the miracle Eulalia wished for, paid off his taxi and made his way to the Colonel’s house. A man esteemed by the members of his profession, renowned for his brilliant surgery, relentlessly pursued by ladies anxious to marry him, he had remained heart-whole, aware that somewhere on this earth there was the woman he would love and marry and until then he would bury his handsome nose in work. But his patience had been rewarded; one glimpse of Eulalia and he knew that he had found that woman. Now all he had to do was to marry her…
He reached the house and rang the bell and presently the door was opened and Eulalia stood there in a grubby pinny, looking cross. She still had the spanner in her hand, too. He saw that he would need to treat her with the same care with which he treated the more fractious of his small patients.
His ‘Good morning’ was briskly friendly. ‘This is Colonel Langley’s house? I wondered if I might visit him? My father was an old friend of his—van der Leurs.’ He held out a hand. ‘I am Aderik van der Leurs, his son.’
Eulalia offered a hand rather reluctantly. ‘Grandfather has talked about a Professor van der Leurs he met years ago…’
Mr van der Leurs watched her face and read her thoughts accurately.
‘I’m visiting at St Chad’s for a few days,’ he told her. ‘Mr Curtis mentioned that the Colonel was housebound with arthritis and might be glad to have a visit. I have called at an awkward time, perhaps…’
He must be all right if Mr Curtis knew him, decided Eulalia.
‘I think Grandfather would be pleased to see you. Come in; I’ll take you to his room.’
She led him across the hall but before she reached the staircase she turned to look at him.
‘I suppose you wouldn’t know how to make a washing machine start again?’
He had been wondering about the spanner. He said with just the right amount of doubt in his voice, ‘Shall I take a look?’
She led him into the kitchen and Mr van der Leurs gave his full attention to the machine just as though it were one of his small patients on the operating table awaiting his skill. After a moment he took the spanner from her hand, tapped the dial very very gently and rotated it. The machine gave a gurgle and when he tapped it again—the mere whisper of a tap—it came to life with a heartening swish.
Eulalia heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you very much. How clever of you, but I dare say you know something about washing machines.’ She added doubtfully, ‘But you’re a doctor.’
He didn’t correct her. ‘I’m glad I could be of help,’ he said, and then stood looking at her with a look of faint enquiry.
She said quickly, ‘I’ll take you to see Grandfather.
