soft. ‘I suppose you’ve been sent to tame me?’
I, at fourteen, was the only one who could ‘deal with’ Granny Munro. Even her son, doctor or no doctor, could make little headway with her.
‘Mummy’s afraid Mr Hughes’ll see you.’
Granny’s broad, pink face broke into a grin. ‘I’ll bet she is. The sight of me would be enough to give that namby-pamby little preacher a turn.’
Anxiously, I peered back into the hall to see if Mummy was coming, but there was no sign of her.
‘Granny, look, I’ll help you get dressed, shall I? You’ll only get into more trouble if you don’t. Shall we go upstairs, and I’ll bring you some tea up afterwards?’
‘I suppose if I stay here I’ll be shot at dawn. Or it’ll be rat poison in the tea. That’ll be the next thing.’
I gathered up the clothes that she had apparently not just discarded but hurled all round the room: garters and bloomers, the heavy dress and shift and her stiff whale-boned corset. Her stockings had landed on the standard lamp.
‘I’ll check the coast is clear and then we can get back upstairs.’
The doorbell rang as we were crossing the hall. My mother dashed out from the kitchen and made frantic flapping motions at us, her body taut and furious.
‘Oooh,’ Granny said, stopping in full view of the front door and clasping her hand to her chest, ‘I think I can feel a funny turn coming on.’
‘Just get up there,’ Mummy snarled at her, gesturing at Simmons our maid, whose eyes were goggling, to wait before opening the door.
Granny suddenly dropped the pretence and shot with impressive speed up to the first floor.
‘Why d’you do it?’ I panted when we were up in her room overlooking the garden and I was rolling her stockings up her legs.
‘Got to get someone to take notice of me somehow, haven’t I?’ she said petulantly, perched on the pale blue candlewick bedspread. ‘Locked away up here.’
I clicked my tongue. ‘You know you can come down any time you like.’
‘Yes, but with her around . . . Heavens, no wonder your father’s wrapped himself up so tight in his work.’
I’d heard these complaints so many times now that I didn’t rise to them. ‘I’ll go and fetch you some tea now, shall I?’
I settled her in the easy chair in what was in fact a light, comfortable room with many of her possessions round her. I carried up tea and slabs of shortbread and stayed while Granny enjoyed them, sitting with the window open over the garden. It had gone quiet outside. I sat on an upright wooden chair, my tanned legs spreading over the seat.
‘I gather you managed to behave yourself while I was away?’
‘You deserted me.’ She looked at me out of the corner of her eye with mock reproach.
‘It was only ten days.’
‘And it was lovely,’ Granny stated.
‘It was . . .’ I hesitated. Since the holiday I had tried to push the disturbing elements of it to the back of my mind. ‘Yes, it was lovely.’
Granny ruminated on her oblong of shortbread.
‘I’d like to marry someone like Alec Kemp,’ I said, dreamily.
Granny snorted. ‘Nonsense. He’s a Tory.’
I giggled. ‘And he’s married already.’
‘And he’s old enough . . .’
‘. . . to be my father!’ I finished for her, laughing.
Granny sat re-stirring her tea. She dropped the spoon noisily into the saucer and said, ‘No. The one you ought to marry is Angus.’
‘Angus?’
‘Yes, Angus. If ever I saw a nice boy it’s Angus.’
‘But he’s only fifteen.’ Set beside the glamour of Alec Kemp, Angus seemed a mere child.
‘And you’re only fourteen.’
‘But Angus is just a friend. I mean he’s just, well – Angus. And he’s so quiet and serious all the time.’
Granny shrugged. ‘You don’t want to get married. Get a job instead. Far better paid. If I hadn’t got myself married and tied down out in the sticks I’d have had a much better time. Out there, marching with them all.’ She held her arm out as if to indicate
I, at fourteen, was the only one who could ‘deal with’ Granny Munro. Even her son, doctor or no doctor, could make little headway with her.
‘Mummy’s afraid Mr Hughes’ll see you.’
Granny’s broad, pink face broke into a grin. ‘I’ll bet she is. The sight of me would be enough to give that namby-pamby little preacher a turn.’
Anxiously, I peered back into the hall to see if Mummy was coming, but there was no sign of her.
‘Granny, look, I’ll help you get dressed, shall I? You’ll only get into more trouble if you don’t. Shall we go upstairs, and I’ll bring you some tea up afterwards?’
‘I suppose if I stay here I’ll be shot at dawn. Or it’ll be rat poison in the tea. That’ll be the next thing.’
I gathered up the clothes that she had apparently not just discarded but hurled all round the room: garters and bloomers, the heavy dress and shift and her stiff whale-boned corset. Her stockings had landed on the standard lamp.
‘I’ll check the coast is clear and then we can get back upstairs.’
The doorbell rang as we were crossing the hall. My mother dashed out from the kitchen and made frantic flapping motions at us, her body taut and furious.
‘Oooh,’ Granny said, stopping in full view of the front door and clasping her hand to her chest, ‘I think I can feel a funny turn coming on.’
‘Just get up there,’ Mummy snarled at her, gesturing at Simmons our maid, whose eyes were goggling, to wait before opening the door.
Granny suddenly dropped the pretence and shot with impressive speed up to the first floor.
‘Why d’you do it?’ I panted when we were up in her room overlooking the garden and I was rolling her stockings up her legs.
‘Got to get someone to take notice of me somehow, haven’t I?’ she said petulantly, perched on the pale blue candlewick bedspread. ‘Locked away up here.’
I clicked my tongue. ‘You know you can come down any time you like.’
‘Yes, but with her around . . . Heavens, no wonder your father’s wrapped himself up so tight in his work.’
I’d heard these complaints so many times now that I didn’t rise to them. ‘I’ll go and fetch you some tea now, shall I?’
I settled her in the easy chair in what was in fact a light, comfortable room with many of her possessions round her. I carried up tea and slabs of shortbread and stayed while Granny enjoyed them, sitting with the window open over the garden. It had gone quiet outside. I sat on an upright wooden chair, my tanned legs spreading over the seat.
‘I gather you managed to behave yourself while I was away?’
‘You deserted me.’ She looked at me out of the corner of her eye with mock reproach.
‘It was only ten days.’
‘And it was lovely,’ Granny stated.
‘It was . . .’ I hesitated. Since the holiday I had tried to push the disturbing elements of it to the back of my mind. ‘Yes, it was lovely.’
Granny ruminated on her oblong of shortbread.
‘I’d like to marry someone like Alec Kemp,’ I said, dreamily.
Granny snorted. ‘Nonsense. He’s a Tory.’
I giggled. ‘And he’s married already.’
‘And he’s old enough . . .’
‘. . . to be my father!’ I finished for her, laughing.
Granny sat re-stirring her tea. She dropped the spoon noisily into the saucer and said, ‘No. The one you ought to marry is Angus.’
‘Angus?’
‘Yes, Angus. If ever I saw a nice boy it’s Angus.’
‘But he’s only fifteen.’ Set beside the glamour of Alec Kemp, Angus seemed a mere child.
‘And you’re only fourteen.’
‘But Angus is just a friend. I mean he’s just, well – Angus. And he’s so quiet and serious all the time.’
Granny shrugged. ‘You don’t want to get married. Get a job instead. Far better paid. If I hadn’t got myself married and tied down out in the sticks I’d have had a much better time. Out there, marching with them all.’ She held her arm out as if to indicate
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