The Cat Next Door by Marian Babson Page B

should be coffee for one. Surely, his second will also have coffee with him? More dramatic, I suppose, even though not quite accurate.’
    â€˜I suppose …’ Margot echoed faintly. Oh, Milly, Milly, where are you? Where have you gone? Can we get you back? But would it even be kind to try? Was it better to leave her there in her own little world until after the trial?
    And then?
    Margot closed her eyes, this was all too much for her. And she had just arrived. How had the others been able to stand it over the past endless year?
    A sudden clamour brought her sitting upright on the edge of her chair, eyes wide open, gasping. It took a moment to identify the sound as Lynette’s bell.
    There were hurrying footsteps ascending the stairs. Someone was answering it already. Probably Nan.
    â€˜That child has slept all afternoon.’ Abruptly, Milly was back in the present. ‘Now she’ll be awake half the night. Really, Emmeline ought to know better than to allow it.’
    Emmeline allow it? This was still Aunt Milly’s house. Margot felt a pang of dismay. Once Milly would not have relinquished her authority to her sister, nor would Emmeline have dreamt of assuming it. It was another measure of just how far Milly had retreated from the world.
    â€˜It’s been so nice having this little chat with you, dear.’ Aunt Milly’s restless hands caressed the book in her lap, then picked it up. ‘But I mustn’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you have so much to do.’ She opened the book. ‘And I must see what Lady Samphira is up to. I’m afraid the little minx is planning more mischief and she …’ Milly’s voice trailed off as she became absorbed in the open page before her.
    Margot opened her mouth, then shut it again. There was really nothing to be said. Milly was lost in another, kinder, world and who was she to insist that she should
remain in one of harsh reality? Perhaps life would be more bearable if they all could find alternative, more acceptable, worlds.
    The overwhelming weariness dragged at her as she slowly quietly – not that Milly would notice – left the room. Outside, the stairs loomed like Everest, but there was no other way to reach her bedroom.
    One hand on the newel, she hesitated. If she went to her room, would Nan come after her? That threatened cup of tea, precursor to a tête-à-tête she would rather avoid, was an ever-present danger.
    Of course, she could always lock her door. The thought heartened her enough to send her up the first half-dozen steps before she paused for breath. Why not? If no one tried to disturb her, no one would ever know.
    Another half-dozen steps were accomplished on the strength of that realisation.
    Even if Nan did try to intrude … nearly at the top now … she could always claim that the door must have jammed and that she had been too deeply asleep to hear anything.
    Sleep … With one final effort, she reached the top of the stairs and turned towards her room, the thought of the waiting bed giving her just enough encouragement to keep her going until she reached it.
    The sound of a door closing somewhere down the hallway behind her propelled her the last few feet and into her own room. She closed door and turned the key in the same movement – silently she hoped – then leaned against the door, trying to control her laboured breathing.
    There was silence outside, the feared footsteps did not materialise, she was fleeing where no one pursued. This time.
    Slowly, she pushed herself away from the door and crossed the room to turn back the counterpane and sink
on to the bed with barely enough strength left to kick off her shoes and lie down.
    Â 
    Â 
    A subtly increasing noise level permeating the whole house brought her back to consciousness some time later. The front door had slammed, she recognised dimly. The distant sound of cars arriving and the rumble of the garage doors