Circus and on to Piccadilly, the brightly lit facade of Sinclair’s glittered out of the dark. She remembered how last winter she had stood in the snow looking up at it, feeling certain that this building held promise for her. Now, the Christmas trees sparkled in the windows, and high above, the lights of Mr Sinclair’s private apartments gleamed, and she was surprised to feel a sudden prickle of festive excitement. Perhaps she was looking forward to Christmas, after all.
‘We need more linen for the Blue Room. Quick, girls! Don’t dawdle.’
‘Mr Stokes, the cases of claret have arrived – where would you like them?’
‘Hurry and ring the gong. We mustn’t be a minute late with luncheon. You know how particular Her Ladyship is about punctuality when there are guests in the house.’
Below stairs at Winter Hall was all a-fluster with activity. The stone-flagged passageways rang with the sound of footsteps. With so many extra people in the house, guest bedrooms to be arranged, and meals to be prepared, there was a great deal to do – and yet Mrs Dawes was not too busy to notice the sound of the motor pulling up on the drive.
Tilly left the bed linen to the other housemaids and followed her outside into the cold, shivering in her thin frock and apron. A small, familiar figure in a plain woollen coat was being helped out of the motor by Alf.
‘Hello, Mrs Dawes! Hello, Tilly! How nice to see you!’ she called out.
Tilly stared in surprise. Miss Leo’s quiet voice was the same, but there seemed to be something different about her. It wasn’t that she had grown any taller or that she was dressed differently – in spite of all the frilly frocks Nanny always wanted her to wear, Miss Leo had never given a pin for how she looked. But she seemed older somehow, and what was more, Tilly noticed that her bulky crutch was gone, replaced by a handsome walking stick.
She wanted to leap forward and ask a dozen questions, but she knew that this was one of the occasions when she was supposed to ‘know her place’ and so she hung back, whilst Mrs Dawes stepped forward. ‘Welcome home, Miss Leonora,’ she said warmly. ‘We’re glad to see you. Now, hurry inside and get warm. Charlie will bring up your trunks and Tilly can unpack for you. You’ve missed luncheon but Nanny will have something ready for you in the Nursery.’
‘Oh, but I don’t need any help,’ said Miss Leo eagerly. ‘I’m quite used to looking after myself now, and being independent.’ But catching Tilly’s expression, she added swiftly: ‘Though actually, it would be nice to have Tilly help me. I’m rather tired after the journey.’
As she came up the steps and through the doors, Tilly saw that Miss Leo was staring all around her, quite as if she was seeing Winter Hall for the first time. She couldn’t imagine why, for it wasn’t as if anything had changed. The big hallway looked exactly as it always did, with the grandfather clock and the portraits on the panelled walls. The door to the Ballroom was open: Tilly noticed Miss Leo peep through at the big Christmas tree that the maids had decorated the day before, with all the usual ornaments, and little red candles. They ought to have waited until Miss Leo came home to do that, Tilly thought. Miss Leo had always loved helping to dress the Christmas tree, and it had always been her job to place the fairy doll in the very top branches. When she had been very little, Tilly had once cried because she wanted to be the one to do that: Ma had scolded and threatened a spanking, but Miss Leo had looked astonished and then put the fairy doll straight into Tilly’s small hands.
Now, in the hallway, they could hear the sounds of the family at luncheon in the Dining Room. Miss Leo hesitated for a moment, as though wondering if someone might come out to greet her. But the voices and the clink of china went on without interruption, and Miss Leo blew out a faint little sigh, and began to trudge up the stairs. Her shoulders hunched, and all at once, she looked smaller and younger again.
Tilly ran up the stairs after her. ‘I’m so glad you’re back,’ she whispered.
‘I wish I wasn’t,’ said Miss Leo in a flat voice. ‘But I am awfully glad to see you, Tilly. Let’s go upstairs – I’ve got heaps to tell you.’
The railway station was noisy and smoky, and damp with melting snow. Porters with trunks swung by, whilst gentlemen in bowler hats hurried for their trains and messenger boys pushed their way through the throng, with brown-paper parcels tucked under their arms. Everyone seemed to be in a terrific hurry, and for a moment, Sophie was buffeted amongst the crowd. Then she caught sight of Lil, waving to her excitedly from beside the station book stall, and a moment later, Jack emerged from the ticket office and strolled over to join them.
Sophie couldn’t help smiling at how effortlessly he seemed to swing through the crowd. Like his younger sister, Jack was tall and good-looking. He had dark hair, which had a habit of flopping over his eyes, and a remarkable ability to charm everyone he met. Today, he was wearing a thick overcoat and carrying a small suitcase, as well as a little leather case that Sophie supposed must contain his painting things – for like Leo, Jack was studying at the Spencer Institute of Fine Art.
He grinned at her in welcome. ‘I say, this is a lark, isn’t it? Splendid that you could come!’
Sophie found herself blushing. Jack had made no secret of the fact that he thought her a fine girl, and when he smiled at her, she was conscious of feeling excited and embarrassed and flustered in a way that was not in the least like her usual self. She was rather glad that Lil was chattering away, insisting that they make a stop in the Refreshment Rooms to buy some chocolate for the journey.
Together, they made their way to the platform, and clambered on to the train, where they found themselves an empty compartment and settled down.
‘I do like train journeys,’ said Lil, peering out at the steamy station platform as though she were willing the guard to blow his whistle, so the train could be on its way. ‘And I’m glad we’ve got our own compartment. It’s so much nicer being able to talk properly without having to worry about being quiet and minding our manners for strangers.’
But the words were scarcely out of her mouth when the door to their compartment opened, and someone else came in – a small, elderly lady, with white hair, a pince-nez on a long, glittering chain, and a velvet hat with a bunch of very purple violets in it. She smiled around at them all benevolently, as the guard blew his whistle, and the train began its slow chug out of the station.
‘Excuse me, young man, would you put my suitcase up into the luggage rack please?’ she asked in a high, quavering voice. Jack smiled charmingly, and did as she asked, whilst Lil made a face at Sophie. So much for their own private compartment!
‘And might I trouble you for that corner seat, my dear?’ the old lady asked Sophie, clutching a white lacy handkerchief in a thin, lace-gloved hand. ‘I mustn’t travel with my back to the engine. Oh, thank you. How kind.’
Sophie politely moved seats, allowing the old lady to position herself into the corner. She carefully set down an enormous carpet bag, before removing a succession of articles from inside it. First was a novel in a yellow paper cover, then a small tin of lozenges, marked ‘for coughs’, then some complicated-looking knitting, a little brown medicine bottle, a lacy shawl, an illustrated magazine, and finally, a packet of hairpins. She then systematically returned all the items back into the bag, with the exception of the magazine and the tin of lozenges, which she opened, releasing a sickly medicinal aroma into the compartment.
‘H-hem,’ she coughed, before popping a lozenge into her mouth.
Lil was staring in obvious fascination. Sophie guessed that she was already picturing this old lady as a character in a play. ‘Where are you travelling to, ma’am?’ she asked in a polite tone.
‘I’m going to Alwick, dear,’ the old lady replied.
‘Oh – that’s where we’re going too,’ said Lil, trying to sound bright and cheerful, but her voice falling a little flat at the news that their new companion would be with them for the