IT WAS six oâclock on a glorious June morning and the sun was already shining from a blue sky. But it wasnât sunshine which woke Louisa, it was a persistent thumping on the door knocker and presently the doorbell.
She sat up and peered at the clock by the bed. Far too early for the postman, and the milkman had no reason to make such a racket. She turned over and closed her eyes, still not quite awake, and then shot up in bed as the knocker was thumped again. She got out of bed then, flung on a dressing gown and went quickly downstairs. Whoever it was must be stopped before her stepmother was awakened, besides, neighbours living decorously in the quiet little street would complain.
She unbolted the door and was confronted by a man tall and broad enough to blot out the street beyond him. She had the impression of good looks and angry blue eyes as he spoke.
âAnd about time, too. Must I stand here for ever, banging on your door?â
âNot unless you want to. Are you drunk or something? Itâs barely six oâclock in the morning.â
He didnât look drunk, she reflected. His clothes were casualâtrousers and a thin pulloverâand he needed a shave. Louisa, who had a vivid imagination, wondered if he was an escaped prisoner on the run.
âWhat do you want?â she added stupidly. âAnd go away, do.â
âI do not want anything and I am only too anxious to go away, but if you will look behind that bay tree beside the door you will see someone whom I presume belongs to you. She was half in and half out of your gate.â
Louisa nipped down the steps and peered round the tub. âOh, Lord, itâs Biddy.â
She glanced at the man. âOur housekeeper.â She bent to touch Biddyâs cheek. âSheâs all right?â
âShe appears to be suffering a severe migraine. Be good enough to open the door wide and I will carry her in.â
Louisa pattered ahead on her bare feet, down the elegant little hall, into the kitchen and through the door at the end into the spare room. She flung back the counterpane and covered Biddy after he laid her on the bed.
âIâd better get our doctor â¦â
âNo need. Let her sleep it off.â
He was already walking away, and she hurried to keep up with him.
âWell, thank you very much. It was kind of you to stop. I hope it hasnât made you late for work.â
He didnât answer, only walked through the hall and out of the door without looking round.
âYou have no need to be so ill-tempered,â said Louisa, and closed the door smartly on his broad back. If she had stayed for a moment she would have seen him cross the street and get into the Bentley standing there, but she went back to see Biddy, putting the kettle on as she went.
An hour later Louisa went upstairs to dress. Biddy would be fit for nothing for quite a few hours; Louisa would have to wake her stepmother before she left for work and break the news to her that she would have to get her own breakfast.
Downstairs once more, Louisa crammed down cornflakes and tea while she got early morning tea for her stepmother and then nipped upstairs once again.
Her stepmotherâs bedroom was shrouded in semi-darkness, cluttered with discarded clothes and redolent of an overpowering scent. Louisa pulled back the curtains and put her tray down beside the bed.
She said, âGood morning, Felicity,â in a voice nicely calculated to rouse the supine figure on the bed. âBiddy isnât well. Sheâs in bed, and I donât think sheâll feel well enough to get up for the rest of the day. Iâve brought you your tea and laid breakfast for you in the kitchen.â
Mrs Howarth moaned softly and dragged herself up against her pillows.
âLouisa, must you come bouncing in like this? You know how delicate my nerves are. And whatâs all this about Biddy? Of course sheâs not ill. How am I supposed to manage without her? Youâll have to stay home â¦â
Louisa looked at her stepmother who was still an attractive woman, even with her hair in rollers and no make-up. âSorry. Sir James is booked solid all day and his nurses wonât have a moment to answer phone calls and check in the patients. You can go out to lunch. Iâll be home around six oâclock, and we can have a meal then. I dare say Biddy will be all right again by tomorrow. A migraine,â said Louisa.
âYou could have brought me my breakfast,â complained Mrs Howarth.
âIâm just off,â Louisa told her. âIâll take a quick look at Biddy before I go.â
Biddy was awake, feeling sorry for herself. âMiss Louisa, I dunno how I got here â¦â
âwell, you got as far as the gate,â said Louisa. âSomeone passing saw you and thumped the knocker.â
âThe missus didnât hear?â
âNo, no. I told her that you were very poorly. Once your headâs better, youâll be quite yourself again.â
âBless you, Miss Louisa. I got an awful âeadache.â
âYes, but it will get better, Biddy. Try and go to sleep again. Iâve put some milk here by your bed and some dry biscuits.â She stooped and kissed the elderly cheek. âPoor old Biddy. I must fly or Iâll get the sack.â