Marrying Mary. Betty Neels

to the bedside table. The cup rattled in the saucer because her hands were shaking but she stayed calm, aware of regret that the old lady had died and at the same time glad that her end had been so peaceful.

      She wasn’t going to pretend to a sorrow she didn’t feel; Great Aunt Thirza had been a difficult and despotic member of the family, but all the same she had been family. Mary murmured a childish prayer and went to phone Dr Symes.

      Mary had plenty to occupy her for the next few days. Her father reluctantly undertook to make all the necessary arrangements, but she and Mrs Cox were left to deal with all the details. Maisie had come, alerted by Dr Symes Mary supposed, and proved invaluable, but although Mary’s father had dealt with the undertakers he had left a great deal for her to do.

      ‘I’ve let Aunt Thirza’s solicitor know,’ he told her. ‘He’ll see to everything, my dear. The funeral is on Friday; did I tell you?’

      ‘No, Father. Do you want everyone to come back here afterwards? It’s usual. Mrs Cox will see to that side of things.’

      ‘Do what you like, Mary. I told the solicitor to let any friends know.’ He smiled briefly. ‘I don’t think your Great Aunt Thirza had many.’ He added vaguely, ‘She was twelve years older than my mother and the last of her generation.’

      He patted her arm, ‘Well, my dear, I think I’ve seen to everything. Arrange things with your mother, won’t you? I have an appointment later on today...’

      There weren’t many people at the funeral other than the family. There was Mrs Cox, of course, tight-slipped and dour in black; she had said little to Mary but Mary guessed that she was worried about her future—she had been with Great Aunt Thirza for many years and another job might be hard to find now that she was past middle age. There were several old ladies there too—Great Aunt Thirza’s bridge companions. They said little, but ate Mrs Cox’s splendid tea with relish.

      It was when they had all gone that Mr Shuttleworth, “Great Aunt Thirza’s solicitor, observed that he would now read the will. He was an old man, and Mary, who had a vivid imagination, thought that he looked as if someone had taken him out of a cupboard and dusted him down for the occasion.

      Great Aunt Thirza having been Great Aunt Thirza, her will held no pleasant surprises. Mrs Cox was to have the contents of the wardrobe and two thousand pounds, Mr Pagett three thousand pounds, Polly the full set of Encyclopaedia Brittanica and Mary an early edition of Mrs Beeton’s cookery book, with the hope that by its perusal she might improve her cooking.

      The house, its contents and the remainder of her not inconsiderable fortune were to be given to various charities.

      Mrs Pagett received nothing, which caused her no distress at all. Great Aunt Thirza had never approved of her designing Christmas and greetings cards; she had once observed that it was no suitable occupation for a lady. Mrs Pagett, even if she was whimsical, didn’t lack spirit; she had laughed and muttered, ‘Pooh,’ before going away to her shed.

      Mary watched Mr Shuttleworth tidy away his papers. It was a pity that Great Aunt Thirza hadn’t left her father a larger portion of her fortune. All the same, perhaps now the roof might get a few necessary tiles and the old boiler could be replaced with something modern. She saw Mr Shuttleworth to the door, her mind busy with domestic problems.