think about was my bed.”
“I’ll bet,” I said.
“Goodnight, my dears,” called Aunt Sybil from below with what I am sure she hoped was gentle finality. She had told me where we would be sleeping so I was able to inform Ben that his room was the last but one on the left. “Not the last one,” I warned him. “That is the dumb-waiter. Years ago it was used to bring up meals from the kitchen.”
“There’s a place I wouldn’t care to visit.” Ben shuddered. “After the grub we were served tonight, I picture cobwebs on the ceiling, slime on the walls, and the butler floating face down in a vat of beef tea.”
“Ridiculous! He was pensioned off years ago. Either Uncle Merlin refuses to spend the money for servants or they are afraid to work here.” If I had hoped for a lingering goodnight at my door. I was doomed to disappointment. Ben gave me a soldierly pat on the shoulder, informed me he was not an early riser, and disappeared down the corridor.
My bedroom was not a cheerful place. It seemed to be suffering from a bad case of the ague, the walls sweating patchily through mould-coloured wallpaper. The coverings on the great four-poster bed stank of age and the irritable little fire hissed and stuttered in the grate but did nothing to drive back the chill. Thank goodness I had possessed the foresight to pack my woollen jammies with the feet. This thought cheered me until I remembered they were securely packedaway in my suitcase, which was still sitting in Ben’s car.
Shuddering, I stripped down to my bra and undies, spread the purple monster over a chair—strategically placed to waylay any chance bursts of warmth from that sullen fire—and crawled like a skinned polar bear under the flea-ridden blankets. I was able to reach the light switch from the bed. The room shrank into darkness, but sleep like a spry old elf pranced just out of reach. I was afraid to stretch out my legs full length in case something soft and furry was nesting in the bed. The events of the day jostled and elbowed their way into my head, but out of the chaos came one realization: Though Ben had totally failed to live up to my expectations of the way a man from E.E. should conduct himself, five minutes into our first squabble I had felt completely at ease with him. Instead of counting sheep I played my favourite fantasy game, What if? What if I were painfully, emaciatedly thin, with a soul above cream cakes and Yorkshire pudding and big airy dumplings simmered in thick rich gravy? Oh hell! Given that luscious spread, who needed men!
A soft footfall sounded outside my door. The handle turned with a grunt. Ben? I could eat tomorrow; food was always available while … He was padding across the floor. A thump and a muffled yelp told me he had met the tallboy head on. My heart was slamming against my ribs and my temperature kept going up and down like a department store lift. “Scream,” said the inner voice of decency and common sense. “So you can die not knowing?” asked its sparring partner. His hand was on the bedspread, an inch away from my exposed flesh. The sheet was lifting. I felt a pyjamaed leg rub briefly against mine. And it was all over. My hand found the light switch and the room blinked back to life.
I turned to spear Ben with my accusing, righteous (but grateful) eye.
“Uncle Maurice?” I quailed, yanking the blankets up around my neck. “Please explain yourself! You’ve got to the count of ten and then I start screaming.”
CHAPTER
Five
I should have known that the only man to come creeping into my room in the dead of night would be a lost soul returning from the bathroom. Uncle Maurice, looking quite ridiculous in lavender flannel pyjamas, apologized profusely for the intrusion and begged me not to mention the incident to Aunt Lulu. She would be most upset if she knew he had barged in on me and disturbed my rest. I swore that my lips were sealed and turned off the light. Now to try and sleep.
A noise
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