Sing as We Go by Margaret Dickinson Page B

not, I mean, I . . .’ Then she groaned and closed her eyes. ‘How can she even think such a thing?’
    ‘Jealousy’s a funny thing,’ Stella said. Though she was younger than Kathy, Stella had a streetwise knowledge that the country girl had yet to acquire. ‘And he’s not helped. He’s never even noticed me. He didn’t take me round the store when I started here, so you’d better watch it, because I think – even if you’re not interested in him – that he’s got his eye on you.’
    ‘Oh, crumbs!’ Kathy muttered and her blush deepened.
    Stella laughed. ‘Don’t look so woebegone. Just keep out of his way and do your best to butter up Miss Curtis. Now, come on, we’d better get these suits tried on else we really will get locked in.’
    ‘Very nice, dear. Very suitable. You’ve got good taste. It must come naturally because I’m sure you’ve never had the chance to buy any smart clothes for yourself before.’ Jemima, as ever, was blunt, and at her mention of the girl’s former life Kathy wondered what on earth her father would say if he could see her now, dressed in the tailored black suit with a crisp, white blouse beneath it. And he would be outraged at the elegant court shoes in place of her muddy wellingtons. But Amy . . .
    Jemima interrupted her wandering thoughts. ‘But it will certainly be an asset if you choose to continue working at the store.’
    Kathy smiled weakly. Did she really have any choice? Certainly not at the moment. She was honest enough to acknowledge that she had only been given a trial because of Jemima Robinson. Without her support and recommendation, there would have been no job. But she felt impelled to say, ‘Stella picked the suits out as being right to wear for work, Miss Robinson, not me. I – I’m sorry.’
    Jemima smiled. ‘No matter. I like your truthfulness. That goes a long way with me, my girl. I don’t like being lied to. Now, we should think about supper . . .’
    Over the meal, Kathy tried to broach the subject of Mr Kendall. ‘He seems nice,’ she began tentatively, but was shocked by Jemima’s swift glance and the pursing of her lips. ‘Oh, he is,’ the older woman remarked dryly. ‘Very nice.’ Then she murmured, ‘Too nice, sometimes.’
    Kathy’s sharp hearing had heard her words. ‘What do you mean? “Too nice”? How can anyone be “too nice”?’
    ‘He should remember his position. It doesn’t do for a store manager to be too familiar with his staff. Especially with the young women. It puts ideas into their silly heads. It doesn’t do at all.’ She sighed. ‘But I suppose he’s only young himself. He’s certainly very young to be in such a high position, but then I understand his mother . . .’ For some strange reason Kathy was sure that Jemima’s voice hardened as she mentioned Mr Kendall’s mother. ‘Pulled a few strings. She’s well connected.’
    ‘Oh? Is Mr Kendall from a wealthy family then?’
    Jemima gave a wry laugh. ‘Not really, his mother . . .’ Jemima stopped abruptly. ‘Dear me! What am I thinking of? Gossiping about my employers like this. I never do that. You’re a witch, young Kathy, to loosen my tongue so. Dear me. This will never do,’ she tutted primly.
    Kathy was disappointed. She’d hoped to learn quite a lot about the people she was to work with, but Jemima was pursing her lips as if to stop any further indiscretions escaping them. She tried one last time. ‘I just wondered if there was anything between him and Miss Curtis. She—’
    ‘Whatever gave you that idea? Oh, I see . . .’ Jemima added, answering her own question before giving Kathy time to say a word. ‘Stella.’
    ‘No,’ Kathy burst out, anxious that she should not get the young girl into trouble. ‘No, it wasn’t Stella. It was – well, I saw Miss Foster and Miss Curtis talking and – and she seemed, well – upset.’
    Jemima eyed her. ‘Kathy, my dear, let me give you a word of advice and you’d do well to heed it.