like a mother hen clucking at her chicks.
"Let's get you out of those damp clothes," she said, turning the taps of the big, white,
enamelled bath. She crumbled a lavender bath cube into the steaming water that gushed
forth. I sat on a chair while she unwound the bandage from my swollen foot, tutting and
sucking in her breath.
When there was enough water in the bath, and after she turned off the taps, I waited for
her to leave, so I could undress in private, but she hustled me along. "Come on dear, don't
be shy, I've had daughters of my own." She began to help me off with my ruined clothes.
No-one but my Gran had ever seen me naked, and I was acutely embarrassed at being
exposed in front of a stranger, but she seemed unconcerned.
"Hop in, dear," she chirped, testing the water temperature with her fingers.
I clambered into the foaming, tinted, sweet-smelling water. It felt good, and soon I
relaxed. Gradually, warmth began to soak into my flesh, and I allowed her to sponge off
the grime from my back and shoulders.
"That's more like it, now you look better," she enthused as she lifted me out. She dried
me off, then wrapped a towel around me, and sat me on the chair again to carefully wind
the bandage tightly back around my ankle.
"Now, come through to the bedroom and I'll sort out some clothes for you. I have lots,
left by my daughters when they flew the nest."
She led me along the landing. Mr Grainger was loitering at the top of the stairs, and my
embarrassment returned when I felt his intense gaze on me. There was something about
him, a kind of arrogance, that reminded me, for some reason, of the boys who tormented
me at school. I avoided meeting his eyes, chilled by the hardness of his expression.
Mrs Grainger, Phylis, took me into a pretty little bedroom, decorated in pink and lemon,
with frilly curtains and dainty furniture. Rummaging through drawers and cupboards, she
produced dresses and undies and shoes, which I eagerly tried on. When we were satisfied
that I looked clean and tidy, she took me back downstairs to her kitchen.
Once again, at the foot of the stairs, I found myself running the gauntlet of her husband's
stare. His searching eyes frightened me, and I clutched at his wife's skirt for protection.
She sat me at the table, then produced from the oven of the big range a plated dinner.
"Here we are, love. We ate ours earlier, but I saved some for you after Mr Randal
phoned."
-♪-♫-♪
That afternoon, Mr Randal returned. Phylis greeted him warmly at the door, but I
noticed that her husband slunk away into the garden.
"I can't stay, Phylis. I just came with a little bit of good news for Belinda," Archie said. I
saw him look over her shoulder at the receding back of Mr Grainger. "Can't Jack stay with
us?" he asked.
"Oh, he likes to potter in his shed, doesn't much care for conversation."
Archie's eyebrows knitted, briefly, and he gave a little grunt, but said no more. I always
had the impression with Mr Randal that he missed nothing.
Mrs Grainger took us into the front room, where Archie took a seat on an armchair and I
perched on the pouffe.
"I'm glad to say we have found your Gran," he said, smiling. "She was rescued and
taken to the big hospital in Norwich, suffering from exposure. I don't yet know how she
came to be outside the guest-house, but we are trying to find the lodger who was staying
with you, to see if he can help us." He saw how concerned I looked. "Don't worry, the
matron at the hospital assured me that, although she has been through a rough time, she is
not in any danger, and they hope to send her home soon."
He stood up. "I'm really sorry, I have to rush off. I'm sure you understand, it's a busy
time for us."
As he stepped into the hallway, I saw him look right, towards the kitchen and the back
door. It was not an idle glance, I could see his shrewd mind was working. And, the
moment the front door was closed behind him, Grainger re-appeared.
"Why did you go and open your big mouth,
"Let's get you out of those damp clothes," she said, turning the taps of the big, white,
enamelled bath. She crumbled a lavender bath cube into the steaming water that gushed
forth. I sat on a chair while she unwound the bandage from my swollen foot, tutting and
sucking in her breath.
When there was enough water in the bath, and after she turned off the taps, I waited for
her to leave, so I could undress in private, but she hustled me along. "Come on dear, don't
be shy, I've had daughters of my own." She began to help me off with my ruined clothes.
No-one but my Gran had ever seen me naked, and I was acutely embarrassed at being
exposed in front of a stranger, but she seemed unconcerned.
"Hop in, dear," she chirped, testing the water temperature with her fingers.
I clambered into the foaming, tinted, sweet-smelling water. It felt good, and soon I
relaxed. Gradually, warmth began to soak into my flesh, and I allowed her to sponge off
the grime from my back and shoulders.
"That's more like it, now you look better," she enthused as she lifted me out. She dried
me off, then wrapped a towel around me, and sat me on the chair again to carefully wind
the bandage tightly back around my ankle.
"Now, come through to the bedroom and I'll sort out some clothes for you. I have lots,
left by my daughters when they flew the nest."
She led me along the landing. Mr Grainger was loitering at the top of the stairs, and my
embarrassment returned when I felt his intense gaze on me. There was something about
him, a kind of arrogance, that reminded me, for some reason, of the boys who tormented
me at school. I avoided meeting his eyes, chilled by the hardness of his expression.
Mrs Grainger, Phylis, took me into a pretty little bedroom, decorated in pink and lemon,
with frilly curtains and dainty furniture. Rummaging through drawers and cupboards, she
produced dresses and undies and shoes, which I eagerly tried on. When we were satisfied
that I looked clean and tidy, she took me back downstairs to her kitchen.
Once again, at the foot of the stairs, I found myself running the gauntlet of her husband's
stare. His searching eyes frightened me, and I clutched at his wife's skirt for protection.
She sat me at the table, then produced from the oven of the big range a plated dinner.
"Here we are, love. We ate ours earlier, but I saved some for you after Mr Randal
phoned."
-♪-♫-♪
That afternoon, Mr Randal returned. Phylis greeted him warmly at the door, but I
noticed that her husband slunk away into the garden.
"I can't stay, Phylis. I just came with a little bit of good news for Belinda," Archie said. I
saw him look over her shoulder at the receding back of Mr Grainger. "Can't Jack stay with
us?" he asked.
"Oh, he likes to potter in his shed, doesn't much care for conversation."
Archie's eyebrows knitted, briefly, and he gave a little grunt, but said no more. I always
had the impression with Mr Randal that he missed nothing.
Mrs Grainger took us into the front room, where Archie took a seat on an armchair and I
perched on the pouffe.
"I'm glad to say we have found your Gran," he said, smiling. "She was rescued and
taken to the big hospital in Norwich, suffering from exposure. I don't yet know how she
came to be outside the guest-house, but we are trying to find the lodger who was staying
with you, to see if he can help us." He saw how concerned I looked. "Don't worry, the
matron at the hospital assured me that, although she has been through a rough time, she is
not in any danger, and they hope to send her home soon."
He stood up. "I'm really sorry, I have to rush off. I'm sure you understand, it's a busy
time for us."
As he stepped into the hallway, I saw him look right, towards the kitchen and the back
door. It was not an idle glance, I could see his shrewd mind was working. And, the
moment the front door was closed behind him, Grainger re-appeared.
"Why did you go and open your big mouth,
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