surprise and appreciation—he had not expected her to agree with him.
'I didn't like her,' said Jennet flatly.
'Not many do,' confided Aunt Alice, 'but because she's rich they put up with her. Very useful to have her on the board of this and that if she makes a contribution to the funds now and again. Of course she's got terribly above herself—putting on airs and graces. She might be able to fool some of them round here with her fancy ways but I remember what she was like before she got married. Plain Dora Blatchet she was then, father lived in the yard opposite—simple fisherman.' She leaned back and stared into space for a moment. 'Oh, but she was a lovely creature then—prettiest little thing in Whitby. Another cruel trick of age.'
Ben licked the crumbs off the plate and looked round for something else. Miss Boston gave him an apple but he looked at it woefully; he had been hoping for some chocolate biscuits.
'She can't have any real friends, then,' said Jennet thoughtfully. 'How awful to be liked just because you have money.'
'Oh, but she does have friends, dear,' Aunt Alice quickly put in. 'There's Edith Wethers, the postmistress; Mrs Joyster, Tilly Droon and...' here she paused, then added guiltily, '...and there's me. In fact Mrs Banbury-Scott will be coming here tomorrow evening. Our ladies' circle meets once a month.'
She cleared the plates away while Jennet puzzled over her words. The way Aunt Alice had mentioned the ladies' circle was strange, as if she was embarrassed and did not want to talk about it.
'Is it a party?' Ben asked with interest.
Miss Boston gave a nervous laugh and shook her head quickly. 'Oh no, Benjamin,' she said. 'Just a collection of dreary old woman like me—extremely dull, I'm afraid.'
Jennet looked across at her brother. It was obvious they were not wanted at this meeting and she wondered what they were supposed to do during it.
By a strange coincidence. Aunt Alice was thinking exactly the same thing. The old lady stuck out her chins and chewed the problem over in her mind. It would never do for the children to find out what happened at these meetings and discover her little secret, she told herself. Jennet watched her and a suspicion began to form in the back of her mind, but for the moment she said nothing.
The rest of the afternoon was spent listening to the various little pockets of folk music that sprang up wherever a clear space could be found. Ben enjoyed this immensely and joined in the clapping and cheering. There was so much to see that the time passed very quickly and the children were exhausted by the time they eventually clambered into their beds.
Another loud chorus of screeching gulls startled Jennet out of her sleep the next morning. She glanced at her watch: it was half past six. With an exasperated groan she turned on her side and lifted the edge of her bedroom curtain.
The day was wet and windy, with gulls riding the gusts and circling overhead. Jennet's room looked out on to the yard but nothing stirred there. She fumbled with the catch and opened the window.
At once the drizzly Sunday morning crowded into her bedroom. The clamour of the sea birds rang in her ears and the warm wind blew salt and rain into her face. From somewhere, the delicious and enviable smell of frying bacon tantalised her senses. Quickly pulling her clothes on. Jennet stumbled downstairs to make her breakfast.
In the kitchen she found that Miss Boston was already up and about. She had evidently just returned from her morning walk, as her white hair resembled the collection of sheep's wool and twigs on the hall table.
'Hello, dear,' she said, looking up from the kipper on the plate before her. 'Sleep well?'
Jennet nodded. 'Yes, thank you.' She slotted a piece of bread into the toaster and decided it was time to ask what had been preying on her mind. 'Aunt Alice,' she began casually.
The old lady pulled a fishbone from her lips and glanced up. 'Hmmm?'
'When will your friends be
'I didn't like her,' said Jennet flatly.
'Not many do,' confided Aunt Alice, 'but because she's rich they put up with her. Very useful to have her on the board of this and that if she makes a contribution to the funds now and again. Of course she's got terribly above herself—putting on airs and graces. She might be able to fool some of them round here with her fancy ways but I remember what she was like before she got married. Plain Dora Blatchet she was then, father lived in the yard opposite—simple fisherman.' She leaned back and stared into space for a moment. 'Oh, but she was a lovely creature then—prettiest little thing in Whitby. Another cruel trick of age.'
Ben licked the crumbs off the plate and looked round for something else. Miss Boston gave him an apple but he looked at it woefully; he had been hoping for some chocolate biscuits.
'She can't have any real friends, then,' said Jennet thoughtfully. 'How awful to be liked just because you have money.'
'Oh, but she does have friends, dear,' Aunt Alice quickly put in. 'There's Edith Wethers, the postmistress; Mrs Joyster, Tilly Droon and...' here she paused, then added guiltily, '...and there's me. In fact Mrs Banbury-Scott will be coming here tomorrow evening. Our ladies' circle meets once a month.'
She cleared the plates away while Jennet puzzled over her words. The way Aunt Alice had mentioned the ladies' circle was strange, as if she was embarrassed and did not want to talk about it.
'Is it a party?' Ben asked with interest.
Miss Boston gave a nervous laugh and shook her head quickly. 'Oh no, Benjamin,' she said. 'Just a collection of dreary old woman like me—extremely dull, I'm afraid.'
Jennet looked across at her brother. It was obvious they were not wanted at this meeting and she wondered what they were supposed to do during it.
By a strange coincidence. Aunt Alice was thinking exactly the same thing. The old lady stuck out her chins and chewed the problem over in her mind. It would never do for the children to find out what happened at these meetings and discover her little secret, she told herself. Jennet watched her and a suspicion began to form in the back of her mind, but for the moment she said nothing.
The rest of the afternoon was spent listening to the various little pockets of folk music that sprang up wherever a clear space could be found. Ben enjoyed this immensely and joined in the clapping and cheering. There was so much to see that the time passed very quickly and the children were exhausted by the time they eventually clambered into their beds.
Another loud chorus of screeching gulls startled Jennet out of her sleep the next morning. She glanced at her watch: it was half past six. With an exasperated groan she turned on her side and lifted the edge of her bedroom curtain.
The day was wet and windy, with gulls riding the gusts and circling overhead. Jennet's room looked out on to the yard but nothing stirred there. She fumbled with the catch and opened the window.
At once the drizzly Sunday morning crowded into her bedroom. The clamour of the sea birds rang in her ears and the warm wind blew salt and rain into her face. From somewhere, the delicious and enviable smell of frying bacon tantalised her senses. Quickly pulling her clothes on. Jennet stumbled downstairs to make her breakfast.
In the kitchen she found that Miss Boston was already up and about. She had evidently just returned from her morning walk, as her white hair resembled the collection of sheep's wool and twigs on the hall table.
'Hello, dear,' she said, looking up from the kipper on the plate before her. 'Sleep well?'
Jennet nodded. 'Yes, thank you.' She slotted a piece of bread into the toaster and decided it was time to ask what had been preying on her mind. 'Aunt Alice,' she began casually.
The old lady pulled a fishbone from her lips and glanced up. 'Hmmm?'
'When will your friends be
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