The Bannister Girls by Jean Saunders Page A

anyone we can talk to about it, Mummy? Do you know anyone, Daddy?’
    â€˜No, I do not,’ Fred said shortly. ‘If Stanley’s volunteered, then it’s the finest day’s work of his life, and it’s not up to us to interfere and make him seem a Mummy’s boy.’
    â€˜Really, Fred,’ Clemence said sharply, as Louise began to wail in a most undignified manner.
    â€˜But I shall be all alone!’
    â€˜Of course you won’t, darling,’ Clemence said soothingly. ‘You’ll move right back here with us, won’t she, Frederick? Your old room is the same as when you left it.’
    Fred groaned inwardly. They were two of a kind. He loved them both, but together they would be insufferable.
    â€˜Perhaps Louise would rather stay in her own home,’ he said as casually as he could.
    She shook her head vigorously.
    â€˜I hate the smell of horses all the time. I can stand it when Stanley’s there, because he loves them so much, but it will be perfectly beastly without him. But London’s so dangerous now, isn’t it? Everyone says so.’
    â€˜You mean all these country experts who know everything about the city, do you?’ her father retorted. ‘Perhaps you’d better go down to Meadowcroft with Ellen and her friend, then.’
    â€˜Nothing’s been decided about that yet,’ Clemence said sharply.
    â€˜If you all think London’s so dangerous, and you don’tlike the idea of Meadowcroft, we could always go north to Yorkshire. It would be handy for me for the mill –’ and for Harriet too, Fred thought, though knowing he was on perfectly safe ground.
    If there was one place Clemence hated it was cold and windy Yorkshire, as she called it. She knew nothing of its beauties, the rolling dales and clean fresh moors … and it was as well that she knew nothing of Harriet either…
    â€˜Thank-you, Fred,’ Clemence said tightly. ‘You know very well that if we go anywhere at all, it will be to Meadowcroft.’
    Fred congratulated himself on trapping her so neatly.
    Louise had a faraway look in her eyes.
    â€˜Meadowcroft. It’s so lovely there, and I haven’t seen it for simply ages. I don’t have to decide right away, do I?’
    She dithered as usual. For a young married woman of twenty-four, she took an interminable time to make up her mind about anything, Fred realised. She relied on someone else to do her thinking whenever she could, which was probably why she was so hot and bothered about Stanley volunteering. Neither of the other two girls was so indecisive. Ellen knew exactly what she wanted to do, and Angel … Angel always said she could make a snap decision whenever something felt right.
    There was a tap on the drawing room door while Fred was still ruminating over whether or not something had felt very right to Angel last night.
    One of the maids bobbed a curtsey, her eyes bright with speculation. In her arms she held a great sheaf of spring flowers enclosed in tissue paper. Printed all over the tissue was the name of Simone’s, London’s most exclusive florist. The bouquet consisted of tiny white mignonette and freesias, budding jonquils and tiny, outrageously expensive hothouse forced pink tea roses. They were all bound together with a flamboyant pink ribbon, and there was a card attached.
    â€˜Someone’s just delivered these for Miss Angel, m’lady,’ the maid said excitedly. ‘They came in a big florist’s van, ever so posh –’
    â€˜Thank-you, Sophie,’ Clemence said irritably. She took the flowers from the girl’s hand, looking immediately at the card. She gave a strangled gasp.
    â€˜To my Angel,’ she read out. ‘Until we see the lights of London together.’
    â€˜Is that all? No signature?’ Fred demanded as she stopped.
    â€˜None,’ Clemence said furiously. ‘Now will you believe me when I say that