The same elderly maid answered it and led Suzannah away, back across the hall down a passage and out of a side door. The small courtyard outside was encircled with outbuildings: a garage with a flat above it, storerooms and what could have been a stable, now empty. At the end of these there was a small door which her companion opened. There was a tiny hall leading to a quite large room with a cooking alcove in one corner and an open door leading to a small bathroom. There were windows back and front and a small Victorian fireplace. It was nicely furnished and carpeted and, although the front window looked out upon the courtyard and the side of the house, the view from the back window was delightful.
‘Oh, how very nice,’ said Suzannah, and beamed at her companion. ‘Would you tell me your name?’
‘Parsons, miss. And you’ve no call to be nervous; there’s the cook’s flat over the garage and the rest of us have got rooms on this side of the house.’
Her rather severe face broke into a smile. ‘I was hoping it would be you, miss—didn’t take a fancy to any of the other young women.’
‘Why, thank you, Parsons. I’m quite sure I’m going to be very happy here. When I come in four days’time will you tell me where to go for meals and at what time?’
‘It’ll be Mr Snow to tell you that, miss—the butler, it’s his day off but he’ll be here when you come.’
‘You’ve been very kind. Now I must go back and pack my things. Miss Manbrook…’
‘Lady Manbrook, Miss.’
‘Oh, I didn’t know. She didn’t mention when I would be fetched.’
‘Mr Snow will let you know.’
‘Oh, good.’ At the door, on the point of leaving, she asked, ‘And the other lady?’
‘That’s Lady Manbrook’s sister, miss, Mrs van Beuck; they’re both widowed.’
‘Thank you, Parsons.’ Suzannah glanced at her watch. ‘I must catch my bus.’ They wished each other goodbye and she went off down the drive and along the lane and found that she would have to wait ten minutes or so for a bus, which gave her the chance to think over her afternoon and dwell on the delights of the little flat.
Her friends in the village were glad when she told them her news. Mrs Coffin gave her an old cat basket for Horace, Dr Warren and his wife gave her a pretty eiderdown, and Miss Smythe presented her with a red geranium in a pot. Suzannah bade them all goodbye, cleaned the lodge ready for its new occupant, packed the last of her possessions and, obedient to Mr Snow’s letter, stood ready and waiting by ten o’clock in the morning, Horace restless but resigned beside her in his basket.
It was a pity there was no one to see her leave, thought Suzannah, for the car which arrived was an elderly, beautifully maintained Daimler. The driver was a short, thick-set man, with grey hair, very smart in his dark grey uniform.
He replied in a friendly way to her good morning and added, ‘Croft’s the name, miss. I’ll just put everything in the boot.’ He eyed Horace, peering at him through the little window of his basket. ‘You’ve got a cat there? He can go on the back seat.’
His wife was housekeeper for Lady Manbrook, he informed Suzannah as they drove; they had been there for twenty-five years and most of the staff had been there almost as long. ‘I hope you like a quiet life, miss,’ he observed, ‘for there’s nothing to do of an evening. Got a telly, have you?’
‘No, I haven’t, but I have got a little radio and I like reading. I’ll be quite happy; I’ve lived in the country for some time and I like it.’
‘Of course, there’s guests from time to time, but mostly it’s just the two ladies.’
She had been a little nervous of meeting Mr Snow, but she need not have been. True, he was very dignified and smiled seldom, but she felt that he approved of her. She was handed the key of her new home, her luggage and Horace were deposited in it and she was requested to present herself in half an hour in the front hall, when she would be taken to Lady Manbrook.
Half an hour wasn’t long in which to get settled in; Horace, set free and allowed to roam round the room, ate the snack she got for him and settled down on the window-sill beside the geranium, and she made herself a cup of coffee, tidied her already neat person and went across to the house.
The two old ladies didn’t look as though they had moved since she had last seen them, only they wore different dresses. The butler ushered her in and Lady Manbrook said, ‘Come and sit down, Miss Lightfoot. Snow, please bring coffee; we will lunch half an hour later than usual, that will give Miss Lightfoot time to unpack her things.’
Snow trod quietly away and Suzannah waited to see what was to happen next.
‘When we have had coffee Snow will show you to the room where you will work,’ said Lady Manbrook. ‘The papers and diaries are in one of the attics; he will accompany you there and you may decide which of them you wish to begin work upon.’
‘Some of them are most interesting, so I am told,’ remarked Mrs van Beuck.
‘Do you want to see any of them before I start?’ asked Suzannah. ‘There is nothing private…?’
‘I think not; if there is, I feel sure that you will inform me. All I require is that they should be put in some kind of order, and when that is done, I should like you to read them carefully and index them.’
‘Are there many papers?’
‘I have been told that there are two or three trunks. These things do tend to accumulate,’ added Lady Manbrook vaguely. ‘Ah, here is coffee. Be good enough to pour, Miss Lightfoot. We lunch at half-past one; you will, of course, join us.’
Suzannah thanked her nicely, drank her coffee and excused herself. If she looked sharp about it, she could unpack and get settled in, feed Horace properly and introduce him to his surroundings before then. And in the afternoon she would make a start on the contents of the attic. She found Snow waiting for her in the hall and they climbed the staircase at the back of the hall to the floor above, opened a door in a wall and climbed to the next floor and then once more mounted a very narrow, twisting staircase to the attics. Snow opened a door with a flourish and she went in. There were several attics, running the length of the house, connected by open archways, all well lit by dormer windows. The trunks were in the second, large and old-fashioned, made of leather and strapped tightly. They undid one of them between them and Suzannah got down on her knees to inspect the contents. There was no sort of order: bundles of letters, foolscap sheets tied with string, a number of what appeared to be diaries all jostled themselves together. It would be hard to know where to begin, she decided.
‘Lady Manbrook said that you would show me where I could work, Mr Snow, but I think I shall have to do the sorting here. There’s plenty of room and the light’s good. When I’ve got things in a bit of order I can carry them to wherever I’ve to work and start the indexing.’
‘Just as you say, miss. I will arrange for a small table and chair to be brought here, and anything else that you may require. I must say there appears to be a good deal of work involved.’
‘Yes, I think so, too,’ said Suzannah cheerfully, ‘but I’m sure it will be interesting.’ They went back down the little stairs and he showed her a room, very light and airy with a wide
