did her best, asking questions while she ate, but Mrs Body’s answers were vague, so it was with thankfulness that she went to meet the doctor when he rang the bell. She had known him since she was a little girl and held him in great affection, as he did her. He gave her an affectionate kiss now, saying, ‘I knew you would come at once, my dear. You know your grandfather’s very ill?’
They walked back to the sitting room and sat down. ‘Yes,’ said Mary Jane. ‘I’ll nurse him, of course.’
‘Yes, child, I know you will, but that won’t be for long. He’ll rally for a few days, perhaps longer, but he’s not going to recover. He was most anxious that you should come.’
‘I’ll stay as long as I can do anything to help, Uncle Bob—who’s been looking after him?’
‘Mrs Body and the district nurse, but he wanted you—there’s something he wishes to talk to you about. I suggest you let him do that tomorrow morning when he’s well rested.’ He smiled at her. ‘How’s hospital?’
She told him briefly about Sister Thompson. ‘It’s not turning out quite as I expected, perhaps I’m not cut out to make a nurse…’
He patted her shoulder. ‘Nonsense, there’s nothing wrong with you, Mary Jane. I should start looking for another job and leave as soon as you can—at least…’ He paused and she waited for him to finish, but he only sat there looking thoughtful and presently said: ‘Well, I’ll go and take a look—you’ll be around when I come downstairs?’
He went away, and Mary Jane went along to the kitchen and spent some time helping Mrs Body and catching up on the local news until Doctor Morris reappeared. In the hall he said briefly: ‘He’s fighting a losing battle, I’m afraid,’ then went on to give her his instructions, ‘and I’ll be in some time tomorrow morning,’ he concluded.
There was a dressing room next to the Colonel’s room. Mary Jane, who usually slept in one of the little rooms, moved her things into it, had a brief chat with her grandfather, settled him for the night and went down to the kitchen where the faithful Mrs Body was waiting with cocoa. They sat at the table, drinking it, with Major, the Colonel’s middle-aged dog, sitting at their feet, and discussed the small problems confronting them. Mary Jane finished her cocoa and put down her cup. ‘Well, now I’m here,’ she said in her sensible way, ‘you must have some time to yourself—these last few days must have been very tiring for you. If I’d known, I’d have come sooner.’
Mrs Body shook her head. ‘Your grandfather wouldn’t hear of it, not at first, but when Doctor Morris told him—he couldn’t get you here fast enough,’ she concluded, and sighed. ‘All the same, I’ll admit I’ll be glad of an hour or so to myself. Lily comes up each morning as she always does, she’s a good girl, and now you’re here, I could get away for a bit.’
Mary Jane agreed. ‘Supposing you take the Mini for a couple of hours each day? You could go to Keswick or Cockermouth if you want to do some shopping. I’ll be quite all right here—I can go for a walk when you get back.’
The housekeeper gave her a grateful smile. ‘That’s kind of you, Miss Mary Jane, I’d like that. I want my hair done and one thing and another—you don’t mind me using the Mini?’
‘Heavens, no. Now I think I’ll go to bed, it’s been a long day. Will you be all right? I’ll be in the dressing room and I’ve fixed Grandfather’s bell and I shall leave the door open—besides, he’s had a sedative. You will sleep? or shall I bring you something?’
‘Bless you, child, I’ve never taken any of those nasty pills yet, and don’t intend to. I’ll sleep like a baby.’
It was a bright, clear morning when Mary Jane woke the next morning and her grandfather was still sleeping; he had wakened once in the small hours and she had gone and sat with him for an hour until he dozed off again; now he would probably sleep for another hour or more. She put on slacks and a sweater, tied her hair back and went downstairs. Mrs Body was already up, so they drank their early morning tea together and then Mary Jane took Major into the garden and across the grass to the lake’s edge. The water was calm and as smooth as silk, the mountains reflected in it so that it took on their colour, grey and green. Across the lake Skiddaw loomed above the other peaks, the sun lending it a bronze covering for its granite slopes.
Mary Jane looked about her with pleasure as she threw sticks for Major, a pleasure tinged with sadness because the Colonel was ill, and although he was an old man, and didn’t, she suspected, mind dying, she would miss him very much. He had been all the family she had known; now she would be alone, save for the cousin in Canada. She had never met him and her grandfather seldom mentioned him. She supposed that after her grandfather died, this cousin would inherit the house and whatever went with it. She knew nothing of the Colonel’s affairs; he had encouraged her to earn her own living when she had left school and she had always imagined that he had done so because he couldn’t afford to keep her idle at home, for although the house was a comfortable one and well furnished and there was no evidence of poverty, common sense told her that the old man and his housekeeper could live economically enough, whereas if she lived with them, she would need clothes and pocket money and holidays… She went back into the house, and after a reassuring peep at the Colonel, went to eat her breakfast.
Mrs Body left soon after Lily arrived and Mary Jane went upstairs to make her grandfather comfortable for the day. He seemed better, even demanding his razor so that he might shave himself, a request which she refused in no uncertain manner. Indeed, she fetched the old-fashioned cut-throat razor which he always used, and wielded it herself without a qualm, an action which caused him to ask her somewhat testily exactly what kind of work she did in hospital. There seemed no point in going too deeply into this; she fetched the post, opened his letters for him, and when he had read them, offered to read The Times to him. Perhaps it was her gentle voice, perhaps it was the splendid sports news, one or other of them sent him off into a sound sleep. She put the bell by his hand and went downstairs. It was barely eleven o’clock, Mrs Body wouldn’t be back until the afternoon, Lily was bustling around the sitting room— Mary Jane went into the garden, round to the front of the house where she would be able to hear her grandfather’s bell; there was a lot of weeding which needed doing in the rose beds which bordered the drive.
She had been hard at it for fifteen minutes or so when she became aware that a car had stopped before the gate, and when she looked round she saw that it was a very splendid car—a Rolls-Royce Corniche convertible, the sober grey of its coachwork gleaming against the green of the firs bordering the road behind it. Its driver allowed the engine to idle silently while he looked at Mary Jane, who, quite unable to recognise the car or its occupant, advanced to the gate, tossing back her mousey hair as she did so. ‘Are you lost?’ she wanted to know. ‘Cockermouth is only…’
‘Thank you, but no, I am not lost,’ said the man. ‘This is Colonel Pettigrew’s house.’ It was, she realised, a statement, not an enquiry.
She planted her fork in between the roses, dusted off her grubby hands and advanced a few steps. ‘Yes, it is.’ She eyed him carefully; she had never seen him before and indeed, she wouldn’t have forgotten him easily if she had, for he was a handsome man, not so very young any more, but the grey hair at his temple served to emphasise the intense blackness of the rest, and his eyes were as dark as his hair, under thick straight brows. His nose was a commanding one and his mouth was firm above an angular jaw. Oh, most definitely a face to remember.
‘I’ve come to see Colonel Pettigrew.’ He didn’t smile as he spoke, but looked her up and down in a casual uninterested fashion.
She ignored the look. ‘Well, I’m not sure that you should,’ she offered calmly. ‘He’s ill, and at the moment he’s asleep. Doctor Morris will be here presently, and I think he should be asked first, but if you like to come in and wait—you’ll have to be quiet.’
The eyebrows rose. ‘My dear good young woman, you talk as though I were a pop group or a party of schoolchildren! I’m not noisy by nature and I don’t take kindly to being told what I may and may not do.’
‘Oh,