curtsey.
‘Ah, and here are the girls,’ Marcus said. He introduced them. ‘This is Miss Blanford.’
‘Please, Diana ,’ said the woman, blushing and flicking her eyes sideways and up to Marcus’s face.
‘She’s the teacher,’ announced Mollie, still relishing her billeting officer authority. ‘The school has been evacuated from Harrow to Great Lednor. And she is billeted with us. Isn’t that nice, girls? Say hello to Miss Blanford.’
‘So no boys and no girls,’ Nell observed.
‘What? Oh, my daughter is so fanciful sometimes, Miss Blanford. You might have to ask her to repeat herself many a time before you actually understand her. Head in the clouds. As for my darling niece, Sylvie. She’s all rather sad, having to stay here with us. She came over for her summer holiday and now she’s our evacuee. Our other evacuee.’
Diana Blanford said how very pleased she was to meet them and what lovely girls they were. Her gushing made Nell positively twitch.
Nell appraised her flattish shoes, heavy calves and large behind. She was rather short standing there next to her mother and father. Miss Blanford’s pale face, tired and angular but verging on pretty, was framed by a softly dishevelled hairdo of glossy brown hair. Her smile was nervy but her eyes sparkled.
‘Oh, you can have the Lavender room then, Miss Blanford,’ said Nell. ‘That’s the nicest room.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ interjected Mollie. ‘I was expecting at worst some ruffians from the city so made up bunk beds in the Blue room, but I think things have worked out rather well, haven’t they? Ah, here’s Mrs Bunting.’
The housekeeper gave Miss Blanford a blunt good evening.
‘I hear from Margery Trenton that the children are having the shock of their life,’ said Mrs Bunting. ‘Some of them have never gone further than ten streets and now they’re right out here. Going to have to get used to us and our country ways.’
‘Poor lambs,’ offered Miss Blanford. ‘Some of my children—’
Mollie interrupted, ‘I hear that some of them are regular little criminals. Only tonight the Olivers in the village reported shenanigans already with their three from Wembley …’
‘And lice ! ’ said Mrs Bunting.
Marcus interjected. ‘Thank you, Mrs Bunting. Shall we have some tea? Miss Blanford here … oh sorry … Diana, will be parched and famished. Maybe even a nightcap, Diana? As for you girls,’ he said, ‘bedtime.’
Nell pronounced that she wanted to stay up. After all, Miss Blanford was here.
And her mother wearily reminded her, unlit cigarette between her now unrouged lips, that it had been a long day, that they were all very tired.
‘Can’t we just show miss the Lavender room?’ asked Nell.
Mollie conceded with an exhausted shrug that said, ‘I’m too beat up to argue with you,’ and bent her face to her lighter.
Within moments, the two girls and Miss Blanford stood on the threshold of the best spare room.
‘Is this for me? On my own?’ The teacher’s face billowed out, round and happy, as she stared into the softly lamplit room.
Nell wondered if it was all right for her.
‘It’s a palace,’ she breathed. ‘We were warned that we would have to share. That we might be put up in draughty attics, or garrets or suchlike. But this is just heaven.’
Diana Blanford walked over the cream rag rug and sat down on the edge of the bed where the satin eiderdown created a gleaming expanse of luxury in the lamplight. Mrs Bunting came in with a vase of Mr Pudifoot’s purple chrysanths and set them down on the side table, next to the wash bowl and jug.
‘You are all so very kind.’ Miss Blanford’s middle seemed to collapse and she looked quite teary. ‘It’s been a long rotten day. You girls must call me Diana. I insist. And you, Mrs Bunting,’ she said, ‘what may I call you?’
‘Mrs Bunting,’ the housekeeper replied.
Diana plucked out her tiny pearl earrings and placed them in the porcelain
‘Ah, and here are the girls,’ Marcus said. He introduced them. ‘This is Miss Blanford.’
‘Please, Diana ,’ said the woman, blushing and flicking her eyes sideways and up to Marcus’s face.
‘She’s the teacher,’ announced Mollie, still relishing her billeting officer authority. ‘The school has been evacuated from Harrow to Great Lednor. And she is billeted with us. Isn’t that nice, girls? Say hello to Miss Blanford.’
‘So no boys and no girls,’ Nell observed.
‘What? Oh, my daughter is so fanciful sometimes, Miss Blanford. You might have to ask her to repeat herself many a time before you actually understand her. Head in the clouds. As for my darling niece, Sylvie. She’s all rather sad, having to stay here with us. She came over for her summer holiday and now she’s our evacuee. Our other evacuee.’
Diana Blanford said how very pleased she was to meet them and what lovely girls they were. Her gushing made Nell positively twitch.
Nell appraised her flattish shoes, heavy calves and large behind. She was rather short standing there next to her mother and father. Miss Blanford’s pale face, tired and angular but verging on pretty, was framed by a softly dishevelled hairdo of glossy brown hair. Her smile was nervy but her eyes sparkled.
‘Oh, you can have the Lavender room then, Miss Blanford,’ said Nell. ‘That’s the nicest room.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ interjected Mollie. ‘I was expecting at worst some ruffians from the city so made up bunk beds in the Blue room, but I think things have worked out rather well, haven’t they? Ah, here’s Mrs Bunting.’
The housekeeper gave Miss Blanford a blunt good evening.
‘I hear from Margery Trenton that the children are having the shock of their life,’ said Mrs Bunting. ‘Some of them have never gone further than ten streets and now they’re right out here. Going to have to get used to us and our country ways.’
‘Poor lambs,’ offered Miss Blanford. ‘Some of my children—’
Mollie interrupted, ‘I hear that some of them are regular little criminals. Only tonight the Olivers in the village reported shenanigans already with their three from Wembley …’
‘And lice ! ’ said Mrs Bunting.
Marcus interjected. ‘Thank you, Mrs Bunting. Shall we have some tea? Miss Blanford here … oh sorry … Diana, will be parched and famished. Maybe even a nightcap, Diana? As for you girls,’ he said, ‘bedtime.’
Nell pronounced that she wanted to stay up. After all, Miss Blanford was here.
And her mother wearily reminded her, unlit cigarette between her now unrouged lips, that it had been a long day, that they were all very tired.
‘Can’t we just show miss the Lavender room?’ asked Nell.
Mollie conceded with an exhausted shrug that said, ‘I’m too beat up to argue with you,’ and bent her face to her lighter.
Within moments, the two girls and Miss Blanford stood on the threshold of the best spare room.
‘Is this for me? On my own?’ The teacher’s face billowed out, round and happy, as she stared into the softly lamplit room.
Nell wondered if it was all right for her.
‘It’s a palace,’ she breathed. ‘We were warned that we would have to share. That we might be put up in draughty attics, or garrets or suchlike. But this is just heaven.’
Diana Blanford walked over the cream rag rug and sat down on the edge of the bed where the satin eiderdown created a gleaming expanse of luxury in the lamplight. Mrs Bunting came in with a vase of Mr Pudifoot’s purple chrysanths and set them down on the side table, next to the wash bowl and jug.
‘You are all so very kind.’ Miss Blanford’s middle seemed to collapse and she looked quite teary. ‘It’s been a long rotten day. You girls must call me Diana. I insist. And you, Mrs Bunting,’ she said, ‘what may I call you?’
‘Mrs Bunting,’ the housekeeper replied.
Diana plucked out her tiny pearl earrings and placed them in the porcelain
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