There were two very small rooms, a tiny kitchen and shower room and loo, all very clean, and the furniture, although basic, was well cared for. There was a view of the cathedral from the sitting room window, and the roof beneath the window sloped down to the small garden below.
‘If you are agreeable I’d very much like to rent it,’ said Louisa. ‘It’s just what I was looking for. If I pay you a month’s rent in advance and move in gradually?’
‘Suits me. Come and go when you like, though I don’t want any of those rowdy parties. Not that that’s likely; Biddy has vouched for you being a young lady who is quiet and tidy.’ She smiled. ‘Not that I’ve any objection to a young man paying a visit.’
‘I haven’t one,’ said Louisa cheerfully. ‘But there’s always hope.’
She looked round the little place again. ‘May I have a key?’
‘Course you can. Two—one for the front door and one for this flat. One month’s notice on either side?’
‘Yes. Do we have to write that?’
‘No need. I won’t do the dirty on you.’ Mrs Watts drew herself up to her full height. ‘I’m an honest woman.’
‘Me too, Mrs Watts. I’m so pleased to have found this flat; it’s Biddy’s doing, really. I’ll start bringing a few things round next week; I’m not sure when I shall actually move in.’
CHAPTER TWO
LOUISA told her stepmother of her plans as they walked back from morning service at the cathedral. Mrs Howarth was in a good mood; she was wearing a new outfit which she knew suited her, and she had spent some time talking to friends after the service, arranging to meet at a coffee morning later in the week at which there would be a well-known TV personality.
‘Someone I’ve always wanted to meet,’ she told Louisa. ‘Such a handsome man. If he’s staying here in Salisbury I might invite him to dinner.’
She glanced up at Louisa, strolling along in her plain crêpe dress with its little jacket. The girl has an eye for decent clothes, reflected Mrs Howarth, and she is quite lovely. A pity she is so large. ‘I dare say you might like to meet him, Louisa.’ She added quickly, ‘Of course, we would have to have a specially nice meal. Perhaps you’d help out? My monthly cheque hasn’t come …’
It seemed the right moment. Louisa said in a matter-of-fact way, ‘Well, I can’t. I’ve found a dear little flat—it’s about five minutes’ walk from us. I’ve taken it and I’m moving in as soon as I’ve collected my bits and pieces.’
Mrs Howarth stopped short. ‘You can’t, Louisa. What am I to do? How shall I manage on my own?’
‘You won’t be on your own; there’s Biddy. And I have mentioned several times that if I found somewhere I liked I’d wish to have my own place.’
‘I’m very upset. You’re being most unkind.’ Mrs Howarth turned a carefully wistful face to the troublesome girl. ‘How was I to know that you meant what you said?’
‘Well, I usually do, don’t I?’
‘Your father wouldn’t have approved …’
Louisa stared down at the cross face. ‘Oh, yes, he would.’ She spoke patiently. ‘You know as well as I do that he would have wanted you to marry again, and you’ll have a far better chance without me; you’ll have no one to consider but yourself.’ That had always been the case, but she didn’t say so.
Felicity said thoughtfully, ‘Well, yes, you may be right. I have often refused invitations since it would have meant leaving you on your own.’
Louisa took this remark with a pinch of salt, but she said nothing and they walked on. At the house Mrs Howarth said at last, ‘Well, I suppose it’s quite a good idea. Of course, you must come here whenever you want to.’
The matter settled, Louisa went round the house, collecting up the odds and ends which were hers. Her mother’s little writing desk, the Georgian work table she had inherited from her grandmother, some small water colours and some of her father’s books. And Felicity, feeling generous, told her to choose what table lamps she might like to have.
So during the week Louisa went to and fro, gradually turning the little flat into a home, stocking the kitchen cupboard and arranging for the milkman to call, arranging for her post to be redirected, buying some pretty cushions and, just before she moved in, flowers.
She put her key in the door for the last time on Friday evening, and on the following morning wished her stepmother a temporary goodbye, spent half an hour with Biddy in the kitchen, assuring her that she was a mere five minutes away and that Biddy was to come and have tea with her on her next day off, and then she walked briskly away.
It was a lovely morning and the flat looked bright and comfortable, the sunshine streaming through its small windows. Louisa spent a happy day unpacking her clothes, doing more shopping for food, and cooking herself an evening meal. She had wondered if she would feel lonely, but that wasn’t so. Indeed, she felt free to do exactly what she wanted. No more bridge parties and no more Percy …
All the same she went back during the following week to make sure that Felicity wasn’t feeling lonely. She went during the evening after she had had her supper, feeling guilty that she had been selfish in wanting to have her own home. She need not have worried. As she went into the house she could hear the laughter and voices in the drawing room. The people turned to look at her as she went in—a party, a rather noisy one, with drinks and delicious titbits and her stepmother the centre of a group of her friends. The look on her face when she saw Louisa made it only too clear that she wasn’t welcome, although Felicity covered the look at once with a smile.
‘Louisa, darling—how nice to see you! I’m having a little party, just to cheer me up, you know? You know everyone, I think?’
Louisa went round greeting people, spent a few minutes with Felicity, and declared that she couldn’t stay as she was on her way to friends. A remark she couldn’t fail to see was a relief to her stepmother.
She didn’t leave the house immediately, but went to the kitchen where she found Biddy.
‘Now here’s a treat, Miss Louisa, and me just made a pot of tea, too. Sit down and tell me how you’re getting on. Not lonesome?’ She chuckled. ‘The missus is ‘aving a ‘igh old time; you don’t need to worry about ‘er being lonely. Parties and bridge and jaunting out to the theatre.’
Louisa said slowly, ‘I should have done this sooner, Biddy, and left her free to enjoy herself.’ She caught Biddy’s anxious look and added, ‘I’m very happy too, really I am. I don’t think I’m a very sociable person.’
‘Well, as to that, Miss Louisa, perhaps you’ve not met the right people you want to be sociable with. But don’t worry, ‘e’ll turn up …’
‘Who?’
‘Why, yer ‘usband, of course. Just round the corner, I dare say, waiting for yer—this year, next year … some time—’
‘Never,’ said Louisa, and laughed. ‘Don’t you worry about me, Biddy. I shall settle down nicely in my little flat and enjoy the summer. There’s the tennis club, and the Walshes have asked me over whenever I’d like to go; there’s a swimming pool there.’
‘Yer father liked them; their eldest boy’s a bit older than you are.’
‘But not waiting round the corner for me, Biddy. His eyes are fixed on Cecily Coates. I met her yesterday; they’re as good as engaged.’
‘Plenty of fish in the sea,’ said Biddy.
Louisa went back to her flat, relieved that Felicity was so happy but feeling hurt. She knew, had always known since the first time they had met, that Felicity had only a superficial liking for her, and she, although she had tried hard,