A Gentle Awakening

Florina, whose father had always considered the making of a bed to be a woman’s work, was surprised, but Sir William had spoken in a voice which, while quiet, obviously expected to be obeyed. She cleared away the tea tray and set the kitchen table for the two of them before getting the ingredients for the soufflé.

Sir William was as good as his word; she was ready soon after seven o’clock, and he fetched the sherry decanter from the dining-room and poured each of them a glass, and then sat down opposite her and ate dinner with a splendid appetite, talking about nothing much. When they had finished, he sent her upstairs to Pauline. ‘I’ll fetch the tray down; you tidy her up for the night and then come back here.’

It was pleasant to have someone there to arrange things; Florina did as she was told and half an hour later went back downstairs to find Sir William, one of Nanny’s aprons strained around his person, making the coffee.

‘Sit down and drink it,’ he ordered her, ‘then, if you’ll see to Nanny, I’ll finish up down here and say goodnight to Pauline.’

Nanny was quite willing to be settled for the night. Everything, she told Florina, would be quite all right now that Sir William was home. ‘You cooked him a good dinner?’ she demanded.

Florina said that yes, she had, but she didn’t mention that she had shared it with him at the kitchen table. There was no sense in sending Nanny’s temperature up! She wished her goodnight and went yawning down the staircase; bed would be delightful, but first she must make sure that the kitchen was ready for the morning. Sir William would want his breakfast, and there was early-morning tea, and what about Jolly—who was Jolly, anyway?

The kitchen door to the garden was still open and Sir William was out on the patio, leaning over the balustrade, watching the stream below him.

‘Come and have five minutes’ peace,’ he advised and she went to stand beside him, hot and dishevelled and very tired. He glanced sideways at her smiling faintly, surprised that it worried him to see her looking so weary. He didn’t say anything and she was glad just to lean there, doing nothing until a car turning into the gates roused her.

‘That will be Jolly,’ said Sir William, and went round the side of the house to meet him.

CHAPTER THREE

FLORINA was still standing on the patio when Sir William returned, with Jolly beside him. Jolly was the antithesis of his name. He had a long, narrow face, very solemn and pale, dark eyes, and hair greying at the temples, smoothed to a satin finish. He was dressed soberly in a black jacket and striped trousers, and wore an old-fashioned wing-collar and a black bow-tie.

Sir William halted in front of Florina. ‘This is Jolly, who runs my home. Jolly, this is Florina, who cooks for me and has been coping on her own for the last couple of days. I think we’ll send her to bed and we’ll discuss what’s best to be done. Off you go, Florina, sleep the clock round if you want to.’