Chapter Two
The next morning Susan ventured into the professor's old study and used his beautiful tortoiseshell pen - now her tortoiseshell pen - to write a letter to Oxford University asking if they would like to accept the professor's vast collection of books. She blotted the page and folded it and addressed it to the Master of Magdalen, which had, she thought, been the professor's old college.
A mild curiosity led her to slide open the desk drawers, which ran smoothly and easily. The top one contained creamy-coloured paper and a few different-sized envelopes. The next drawer held a leather-bound black book, which Susan lifted out.
Its pages were filled with neat columns of figures in what she assumed must be the professor's spidery handwriting, listing household purchases and dates.
She closed the book and slid it back into the drawer, feeling a sudden pang of disappointment, although she could not have said what she had hoped to find. The third drawer yielded several bottles of ink and a book of stamps. She took one and affixed it to the envelope.
Daniel was in the garden.
"We'll have to get rid of this old tree," he said, when he saw her. "Look how it's blocking all the light out from the windows. The place won't be nearly so dark once it's gone. It's oak, so it'll make good firewood. We could sell that separately, the new owners won't know. Did you write your letter?"
"Yes, I think we passed a post box on the lane," Susan said. "I'll take it down."
"I'll take it to the post office," Daniel offered. "Really it needs to go as quickly as possible, we want to get rid of them as soon as we can. In any case I want to go down into the village, give the car a run, and I need to find a telephone box. I ought to call work and make sure there aren't any problems. Do you need anything from the shops?"
"We've got almost everything we need," Susan said. "The baker left a loaf of bread this morning, and I gave an order to the butcher's boy. There are apples in the garden, and I think I could get eggs from the farm. Would you see if you can get coffee? Otherwise there's only tea, and I know you like coffee after dinner.
Daniel shrugged.
"I'd rather have brandy," he said, "only it seems rather as though the old chap was a complete teetotaller. I've looked everywhere but there doesn't seem to be a drop in the house. I'll get off now, if you're sure that's everything. Run and get your letter."
A few minutes later the Austin's engine roared into life, and Susan was alone.
She stood at the gate for a few moments, uncertain what she ought to do next. Instead of returning along the path to the house, she unlatched the little gate that led across the overgrown square of lawn to the small garden.
She would ask Margaret if she knew somebody who would cut the grass, she thought. The morning was warm and bright, and a robin watched her, bright-eyed, from the bottom boughs of the oak tree. Susan met its curious gaze for a moment before looking away.
There must have been flowerbeds at the edges of the lawn, but they had become so overgrown it was almost impossible to tell what might have been planted there, and convolvulus and goosegrass had begun to twist around the last of the peonies and dahlias. Susan tugged a handful loose, and glanced around to see if there might be a compost heap.
She heard the robin call a shrill warning, and looked back. It was late in the year for a fight over females, perhaps there was a cat. She had seen a rather thin tabby lurking in the lane earlier on, and had half-hoped it might be a stray. She looked across the lawn, but if it had ever been there at all, it had gone.
She found a compost heap at the side of the cottage, flat and blackened with only a few tea-leaves strewn on the top to account for Margaret's recent presence. Susan dropped her handful of weeds on the top and was turning back when she was surprised by a rustling from the shrubbery behind her.
A large man in his fifties, considerably taller than she was, was looking at her over the hedge, blocking out the evening sunshine. His cap was pulled low on his forehead, shading dark brown eyes, and his tweed jacket was frayed around the collar. He smelled of earth, and fallen leaves. Susan shivered in the sudden cool, and stepped back a little.
"You don't want to be putting they weeds on there," he said, conversationally. "They'll set seed and take root. You'll have a pile of trouble in no time. Save them for the bonfire."
Susan was startled, but collected herself enough to smile.
"Thank you," she said, politely. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a gardener, and everything has become very overgrown."
The man nodded.
"Nobody's been in since the old feller died," he said, sagely. "You his niece?"
"He was my mother's cousin," Susan explained. "I knew him when I was a girl. During the war."
"You'll be moving in, then?" the man asked. "I heard your car last night. It's time enough to have neighbours in again, the place has been empty for too long. I didn't see a van, suppose you'll be clearing up before you bring your own things in. Place must be full. The old professor, he had to have two vans when he moved in. Books, mostly, my wife said."
"We're only here for a couple of weeks," Susan said. "We have to empty it and then we think we're going to sell it. My husband doesn't want to live in the country. He works in London."
A fleeting look of surprise and something like disappointment crossed the man's face. He was silent for a moment, gazing past Susan at the house itself. Eventually he seemed to reach a decision and nodded slowly.
"I suppose that's all the thing these days," he said. "Everybody's wanting to be in London. But plans can change, and that's no mistake. Always better to wait and see. You never know what might happen. Doesn't do to be too hasty about these things. "
"I like quiet," Susan said."Do you know who did the garden for the professor? It might be a good idea to tidy it up a bit."
"He did most of it himself." The man glanced across at the overgrown lawn. "He knew what he liked, he did. Had a good vegetable patch at the back, have you seen it? It'll be finished for this year, full of slugs by now, I shouldn't wonder. I've given him a hand myself every now and again, though, gardens are my line of business. I'd be glad to help out if you need someone in. I could come in and start clearing up tomorrow if you liked. Does your husband have an interest in gardening?"
"I don't think so," Susan said. "He's an accountant. Quite a busy one. He doesn't really have time for the outdoors. But I can tell him you have offered to help, and I'm sure he will be very grateful. Tomorrow would be perfect. Shall I tell him you'll call in later to discuss it?"
"I'll do just that," the man promised, and smiled back at her. His smile was lopsided, and Susan noticed that one of his teeth was missing. He extended a huge brown hand across the hedge. It was a surprisingly smooth hand for a working man, with long, powerful fingers.
"My name's Lefay," he said. "Malcolm Lefay."
"I'm - " she hesitated before using the unfamiliar title - "Mrs. Hamilton. Susan Hamilton. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Lefay. It's an unusual name. Is it local?"
"My father was a Frenchie," Mr. Lefay said. "I never knew him. He died when I was a nipper. My mother didn't remarry until I was almost in my teens."
Susan smiled politely.
"My husband should be back in a little while, Mr. Lefay," she said. "Please just come to the front door. We're here by ourselves at the moment. We will see you later."
Mr. Lefay smiled his lopsided smile again, and turned away. Susan heard him whistling as he went down the lane.
The tabby cat was on the lawn when she returned, watching her with half-closed green eyes from under the tree. Susan bent down to stroke it, and it arched its back to meet her hand.
It followed her to the door of the cottage, but stayed on the step. Susan went to the pantry and poured milk into a chipped saucer. The cat was still there when she returned, and greeted the milk with polite enthusiasm.
Susan stroked it, absently, as it lapped the milk. When it had done, it rubbed its head against her hand before strolling back down the path. It leaped on to the wall and on to the flat gatepost, where it arranged its paws neatly underneath itself and settled down to observe the comings and goings in the little lane.
Susan watched it for a moment and returned to the cottage. She had promised herself that she would be business-like and efficient, and make an immediate start on the dreary task of sorting through the professor's clothes and personal belongings. She had agonised for some weeks about the best thing to do with these, and had still not found an answer. She mounted the stairs to his bedroom and steeled herself to begin emptying his drawers, but she did not. Instead she seated herself on the narrow window seat and gazed out of the window, as the professor must have done so many times before her, staring at the overgrown garden and narrow lane beyond with unseeing eyes.
She did not know how long she had been sitting there when she was jerked out of her reverie by the rumble of the Austin's engine as it approached along the lane.
Rather to her surprise, the engine stopped before it reached the house. She peered out to see if she could see it, but her view was obscured by the overhanging branches of the cherry tree beside the garden gate. She could just make out the roof of the Austin a little way down the lane, and heard the distant murmur of voices.
Try as she might, she could not see the other speaker, but after a moment she recognised the rasping tones of Mr. Lefay. Daniel must be arranging for the grass to be trimmed.
She hurried downstairs as the engine restarted and reached the front door just as the Austin swung around the corner and shuddered to a noisy halt.
"Darling," said Daniel cheerfully, dropping a kiss on her upturned cheek. "Have you finished? I'm starving, is there anything for lunch? Listen, I've got some terrific news, come and sit down."
Susan followed him into the little kitchen and began to slice the crust off the fresh loaf as she listened.
"It's the most amazing thing," Daniel declared, animated in a way she had never seen before. "I spoke to old Lehman, and then, I wouldn't ever have expected it, he said that the boss was wanting to talk to me. Mr. Simpson himself, imagine that. I can't have spoken to him more than three or four times, I didn't think he even knew my name. Anyway, they kept me waiting for ages and ages until the old man came to the phone, and he sort of grunted a bit, as if he hadn't quite remembered what he was going to tell me, and then he said: Ah yes, Hamilton, and it all came out. You can't imagine."
"Can't imagine what?" asked Susan.
"The firm's been approached to take on a new account, and it's huge, really huge. It's the Brothers Clarkson, you must have heard of them, they run the department stores. They're everywhere. Clarkson Brothers, there's a big one on Oxford Street."
Susan stopped slicing the bread and put the knife down.
"That sounds good for the firm, Daniel," she said. "Will it make some kind of difference to you?"
Daniel's face was pink, and he beamed with excitement. The words tumbled out in a rush.
"They want me to manage their account for them, Susan," he said, triumphantly. "Me. Imagine that. I'm going to have a team. People working for me. I'm going to be in charge of running everything."
Susan stared at him.
"Goodness," she said. "Did Mr. Lehman put you forward? I didn't know he admired you so much. It's very kind of him. I didn't think he - "
Daniel shook his head.
"No, he didn't," he said, and let out a dry little laugh. "He's jealous as anything. That's the very thing. Mr. Clarkson asked for me himself. The older Mr. Clarkson. He said he was coming to our firm and he'd heard there was an up-and-coming young chap, getting a good name for himself, and he'd like me to manage their affairs. Me! He'd heard of me!"
Susan sat down and stared at him.
"I don't understand," she said. "Where on earth could Mr. Clarkson have heard about you? You haven't been involved in anything important, no major accounts. How could he want you? Are you sure, Daniel? Is this right?"
Daniel's face crumpled into a small frown.
"Of course it's right," he said, in an offended tone. "I couldn't tell you how he's heard of me, obviously I couldn't, some client speaking well of me I imagine. People do, you know, Susan. I do good work."
"I know you do," agreed Susan, hastily. "It's just such a - such an enormous surprise. It's very good news," she added. "You must be very pleased."
"Pleased?" echoed Daniel, "I'll say I am. It's the most marvellous news. Why, it's the biggest thing that's happened to the firm in a long time, and they want me. Old Lehman must be spitting. It's a big promotion, darling, aren't you proud of me?"
"Of course I am," Susan said, trying not to sound doubtful. "It's just - so unexpected. I had no idea you were doing so well. Congratulations, Daniel. It's marvellous news."
"Of course we'll have to go back to London tonight," Daniel said, jumping to his feet and beginning to pace around the small kitchen. "There isn't much to pack, is there? I'll have to be back in the office first thing in the morning. I don't suppose we've even unpacked properly yet."
Susan stared at him. It took her a moment to find her voice.
"But Daniel, we're on our honeymoon," she protested. "It's only been a few days. Can't they wait for you until next week? We've only just got here."
Daniel made an apologetic face.
"I'm so sorry, darling, but they can't," he said, trying to sound remorseful. "That is, I didn't ask them. I couldn't ask, could I? In any case I want to get on with it. I've got a meeting with the younger Mr. Clarkson tomorrow, it's all arranged. I'm absolutely dying to meet him. They're very well known, you know, very successful. The word is that there'll be knighthoods for them in a year or two. We might even get to know them personally, maybe even have a dinner party for them one day, Susan, imagine that. The Clarkson Brothers in our house. We'd have to get it wallpapered, maybe even get rid of that old table and buy a new one, your parents weren't great entertainers, were they?"
He held his arms out to Susan. She did not go into them. She looked down at the kitchen table, trying to find a reply.
Daniel hesitated.
"Do pull yourself together, Susan," he said, encouragingly. "It might be the very thing you need, start you off to get along with your life again. A new circle of people, something to aim for. Why, if we get to know them, you'll be asked to meet their wives. We'd have to get you glammed up a bit, we couldn't have a wife of mine looking dowdy. We'll get this place sold and you can have a whole new wardrobe. I suppose you could even start shopping in their stores, I could tell them, my wife never goes anywhere else."
Susan tried to smile.
"I don't ever go there at all, Daniel," she admitted. "I don't like the Clarkson Brothers stores very much, they're always noisy and crowded."
"Well, that'll just have to change," said Daniel, authoritatively. "You've let yourself go a bit lately. I understand why, of course, but it's time for a new start now. Get some make-up and a bit of colour in your cheeks, we'll soon have you looking just the thing again. You'll soon get used to it."
Susan flushed.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I know I ought to be sounding a little more excited for you, and I am, truly I am, only it's such a big thing to get used to all at once. Please don't mind me. I am pleased, really. You've done so well. They must have been very impressed with what they heard to have offered you such a big opportunity. Surely they wouldn't mind waiting a little while? If they really wanted you they'd understand."
"You can't keep people like Mr. Clarkson waiting, Susan," Daniel said, and Susan tried not to notice how pompous he sounded. "And it's only a honeymoon. We've got the rest of our lives together. Listen, if it matters so much, you don't have to come back with me if you don't want to. In fact, that might even be a good idea. You could stay here and get everything packed up ready to be sold, and come and join me when it's all gone. We can kill two birds with one stone, and you don't have to come and meet anybody until you're feeling a bit better. More social."
Susan felt a bit dizzy.
"Stay here? By myself?" she asked, her voice sounding faint and querulous even to her own ears. "I couldn't - I wouldn't know - I don't think - "
Daniel patted her hand.
"You'll be absolutely fine," he said. "It's probably better you don't come anyway, you're such a wet blanket when you're worried about something. I'll go by myself. You'll be perfectly all right here. There's your professor's woman Margaret, I'm sure she'd come and do a bit of charring for you if only we pay her enough. I'll offer her a few extra shillings over her usual rate - she'll probably jump at it. And there's that odd Lefay fellow who said he'd been speaking to you. The big chap. I met him in the lane earlier - he can come and do any of the heavy jobs that you can't manage, he certainly looks as though he'd be strong enough. You won't be by yourself."
But you won't be here, Susan almost said.
The words stayed unspoken. She must not spoil this opportunity for him.
"I'm sure it will be fine." Susan said, forcing herself to smile. "I understand, really I do. I'm just being silly. It's a wonderful chance for you, of course you must take it."
Daniel pulled the chair out and sat down beside her, taking both of her hands in his.
"It's everything we've always wanted, darling, isn't it?" he said. "It's a gateway to - to everything. To success. A smart life, among the top people. It's for you really, you know. It's going to be a dream come true."
"I'm sure it will," Susan agreed, reluctantly. "I think perhaps I've just lost my way a bit. Everything changed after the accident. I suppose I just stopped thinking about - about that sort of future. It didn't seem to matter any more. You're right, of course you are. When will you be leaving?"
"Well, as soon as I can, obviously," Daniel said, jumping to his feet again. "I don't suppose there'll be time for me to get into the office today, even if I set off now, but I'll need to do some reading up, and I'm going to want to be there early tomorrow. Need to be well prepared for this sort of thing, obviously. I'd better go to Mother's house, she'll sort everything out, you won't need to worry your head about it. I'd like something to eat, though, I'm starving."
Susan rose to her feet and began slicing the loaf again.
"I haven't cooked anything," she said. "Could you manage with a sandwich? Or perhaps cheese on toast?"
"Oh anything you like," Daniel said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head and turning towards the door. "I'm going to pack a bag. I'll have it when I come down. I'm so glad you're pleased about it. We can always have a holiday another time. I'll make our fortune, you'll see."
Susan let out a little cry. The knife had slipped, and she had sliced into her finger. Dark blood welled from the cut, but Daniel had not seen, and had gone, clattering noisily along the hallway and up the stairs.
Susan went to the sink and rinsed her finger before wrapping the dishcloth around it, shivering suddenly, as if the day had become unexpectedly cold.
Chapter Three
It was the middle of the next morning before Susan managed to return to the professor's room.
Daniel had driven off in a hasty flurry of spinning gravel the previous afternoon. Susan had fixed an enthusiastic smile to her face and held it there whilst she waved from the little gate. Once he was gone she allowed her face to unfold, yet seemed incapable of moving. She stood for several minutes, holding tightly to the top of the gate and staring at the bend in the road where his car had vanished behind the thorn hedges and the ancient yew tree.
She was startled into the moment by the cat, appearing out of nowhere and weaving itself around her ankles. She bent to stroke it, and it followed her back to the house, where it stretched itself out on the warm golden stone of the doorstep and settled to sleep.
Susan refilled the saucer of milk and set it down beside the little creature, and retreated to the quiet study. She called to the cat, half-hoping it might follow her, but it seemed to be perfectly content where it was.
There were several letters to write, which occupied the rest of the afternoon and the early evening. By the time she set the pen down with a sigh and stretched her cramped fingers, she realised that the sun was setting and the light was fading to a soft grey.
The evening was cool, and she reached to close the open window. Daniel had not brought in any logs, she thought, ruefully. The night was not especially cold, but she knew that the water would not be warm enough for a bath if she did not fill the stove.
She rose to her feet and made her way outside, stepping cautiously along the uneven path around the side of the house, where the dry logs were stacked high beneath the eaves. The professor would never use the supply of wood he had left behind him, she thought, with the now-familiar jolt of sadness.
She had filled the battered basket and was heaving it back through the growing darkness when she was startled by the squeal of the gate swinging on its hinges.
"Hello?" she called, surprised.
"Mrs. Hamilton?" said a voice.
A figure was standing on the shadowy path. Even in the dark Susan immediately recognised the huge shape of Mr. Lefay.
"You made me jump," she said. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"I just came round to see if you needed anything, now you're on your own," he replied, and as he approached, Susan saw he was smiling. "You shouldn't be carrying that by yourself. Let me bring it in for you."
He made as if to take the basket from her. Susan felt suddenly uncomfortable.
"I can manage," she said, trying to side-step him. "Really, Mr. Lefay, it's very kind, but there's no need. I am perfectly all right."
"You'll perhaps need someone to get the fire going for you," he persisted, reaching for the basket of logs. "Let me take that in for you. It won't take a moment."
"No, thank you," said Susan, as firmly as she could, turning away from him. "The stove is lit already, and the house is quite warm. I am grateful for your offer, but really I have everything I need and can manage perfectly well."
She had reached the doorstep. The door stood open a little. The cat rose to its feet and stretched as she stepped over it, arching its back and gazing with interest at the intruder, before yawning and settling itself back down again. Mr. Lefay glanced at it, and then backed away.
"It isn't right, a young woman like you out here on her own," he said. "I'll come back tomorrow and get things straight for you."
Susan collected herself. She set the basket down and turned to face him.
"I believe my husband has asked you to cut the grass tomorrow," she said, coolly. "That will be all the help I need at the moment. Thank you for your concern. Goodnight, Mr. Lefay."
Mr. Lefay did not reply. For a moment he hesitated, as if he was about to say something more, but thought better of it. He lifted his cap and turned away
Susan watched him lumber heavily down the path and close the gate behind him. She shut the front door, and after a brief consideration, shot the bolt. She took the basket of firewood into the kitchen and bolted the back door as well. She filled the stove and sank down into one of the wooden chairs with a sigh, suddenly weary. Everything else would wait until morning.
*
She felt considerably refreshed when she awoke, and rather more enthusiastic about tackling the job of organising and packing up the professor's things. Once she had had breakfast and cleared up, she clattered up the little stairway to his bedroom, where she had decided to make a start.
She realised as she opened the door that she had forgotten to close the window, and a fresh breeze tugged at the curtain, sending a chill little draught spiralling into the room.
She hurried across the room to pull it shut, and realised that the cat was asleep just outside the window, its furry body stretched the length of the sill.
Susan smiled.
"Goodness, how ever did you get up there?" she asked. She reached out to lift it into the house, but at her approach it jumped to its feet and fled, bounding lightly from the windowsill to an outstretched branch of the ancient oak, running easily along and down to the garden wall, where it settled once again on the gatepost.
Susan watched it go, and turned back to the room.
To her surprise, the bed was covered with a jumble of things, tipped over the counterpane in a disorderly pile. She stared for a moment, and then recognised her father's wallet. Daniel must have decided to leave their still-unpacked suitcase and taken his things in the bags they had brought from the hospital.
As she gazed uncertainly at the bed she became aware of a faint, high-pitched humming noise. It was quite musical, and sounded distant, as though somebody had decided to play a wireless in their garden close by and only been able to find a far-off echo of some foreign station. She listened, puzzled, glancing around as though she was expecting to find a gramophone somehow playing by itself, but of course the window was closed and the room was empty.
She frowned, until it occurred to her that very probably it was some farming neighbour, perhaps using some new type of machinery. Most likely it was a sound that would come to be familiar, and now she really must make a start. She looked down miserably at the assortment of belongings that Daniel had tipped so unceremoniously on to the professor's bed, and decided that really she ought to sort through them all.
She picked up a wallet and flipped it open. Her younger brother's name was inked boldly across the leather, and a train ticket and a ten-shilling note fluttered downwards. Tears jerked into her eyes, and she dropped it as if it had burst into flame.
For a few seconds she stood still. She closed her eyes, waiting for the shock of pain to fade. The wallet had tumbled beneath the bed, and mechanically, she bent to retrieve it. As she groped in the dust, she realised that the humming was growing louder.
The noise was coming from something on the bed itself.
A small pile of clothes, which Susan recognised as her mother's, covered most of the counterpane. Susan began to pick them up and fold them, laying them methodically on the pillow as she did so.
Underneath a crumpled handkerchief lay her eldest brother's pocket knife and a small parcel.
Susan picked up the parcel, turning it over in her hands. Wrapped in brown paper and loosely tied with string, it was small and soft, and seemed to quiver under her fingers, as if something inside was trembling.
The humming sound had become quite a bit louder now, and there could be no doubt that it was coming from the parcel. It weighed almost nothing, and for a few seconds she simply stared at it, feeling its tiny vibration and listening to the odd, almost musical sound.
The knotted string was awkward to undo, and Susan needed both hands. She laid the parcel down beside the professor's Bible, and worked at the knot with her fingernails until it gave way.
The parcel came open easily then. Susan unwrapped the brown paper to reveal a piece of grey flannel, the sort that might have been cut from an old school shirt, folded over into a small, neat square.
Gently, Susan took the corners and opened it out.
Carefully pinned to the middle of the cloth, as if to stop them escaping, lay four rings.
They were so brightly coloured they almost glowed in the pale September light. Two were green, the deep, iridescent green of the eyes in a peacock's tail, and the other two were gold, a soft, yellow gold, shimmering against the grey flannel.
Stripped of their protective blanket, they almost appeared to shiver in the chill morning air. Their song seemed louder now, shriller and more insistent, and they seemed to be growing brighter, hungrily drawing the dusty morning light towards them.
Susan stared. She blinked several times, gazing at the curious objects in front of her. She felt her heart begin to thud a little faster, and was dimly aware that her breathing had become shallow, Then involuntarily, almost as if gently drawn by the rings themselves, her fingers reached slowly downwards to stroke them.
A sudden cacophony of knocking downstairs startled her so much that she jumped, snatching her hand away as if it had been slapped. For a moment she hesitated, as if uncertain about what she had heard, before collecting her senses. Somebody was at the door. It sounded like the back door, so probably the butcher's boy. She must tell him that Daniel had gone away, and she would need a smaller order. She could not ignore it.
Swiftly, almost tenderly, she pulled the flannel wrapping over the rings, covering them gently and hiding them from view. Then, almost as an afterthought, she folded the brown paper around them again and set the parcel on the top of the worn leather Bible before hurrying downstairs.
The shape she could see through the window of the back door was clearly not the butcher's boy, and Susan tugged the stiff door open to reveal the familiar face of Margaret.
For some reason she could not have begun to explain, Susan was suddenly overwhelmed with relief and happiness at her presence. She beamed with pleasure and opened the door as widely as it would go, leaning across to press her cheek against Margaret's as if she had been an aunt or an old friend. Margaret looked surprised, but not altogether displeased, although she automatically reached to straighten her hat before following Susan into the kitchen.
Susan had remembered to fill the stove that morning, and the kettle was hissing cheerfully on its hob. Margaret glanced at it approvingly as Susan opened the tea caddy and glanced around for the teapot.
"It's just on the shelf there, by the window," Margaret said, helpfully. "I heard your husband had been called away, and I just wondered if you were managing all right. The firewood, and everything. I dare say it's not what you're used to. Are you keeping warm enough?"
Susan spooned tea into the teapot and filled it from the kettle before replying.
"I think so," she said, cautiously. "It's all quite new, but the stove isn't very different from the one at home, except that we use coal there, and I'm not quite sure where to find everything yet. I've placed an order with the butcher, but I still need to do something about laundry, and a Mr. Lefay has been to call in. He has kindly offered to come and cut the grass."
Margaret pulled a face at the name.
"You need to be careful of him," she said. "You take care who you're talking to, a young lady here all by yourself. Has he been pestering you?"
"Not really," Susan said. "I've met him a couple of times, that's all. My husband asked him to take care of the garden. He hasn't been in the house."
"Well, you make sure you don't let him," Margaret said, pursing her lips. "You don't need his sort in here. The professor never trusted him. He was good to him, mind, found work for him and paid him well, but he wouldn't have him across the threshold, and you shouldn't either."
Susan laid the teacups and saucers on the table.
"Goodness. Why was that?" she asked. "Had he done something to upset the professor?"
Margaret shook her head. She took her hat off and laid it on the table as Susan brought the teapot over to the table, now encased in its stripy cosy, and sat down.
"He's just not quite right, to my mind," she explained. "Always hanging about when he shouldn't. Lurking in the lane and around the back. He never gave the professor any trouble, mind, I think he was a bit afraid of the professor, but you, now, you're another matter. You mark my words, you'll have to put your foot down with him."
"Do you think he's dangerous?" Susan asked, feeling mildly alarmed. "Should I tell him not to come?"
Margaret thought for a moment before shaking her head.
"I don't know that he'd do anyone any harm, not deliberately, perhaps," she said, carefully. "The professor wouldn't hear a bad word said against him. Mind, he wouldn't hear a bad thing about anybody, always thought the best of people, he did. Only..."
Her voice faded away.
Susan waited.
"He lives his own life," Margaret concluded. "It's like he's somewhere different to all the rest of us, got his own ideas and his own thoughts about things, and doesn't mind in the least what anybody else thinks. Once he's decided about something, there isn't a thing anybody could say or do that would budge him. I knew him when I was at school, and he was a queer one even then."
"I don't think that sounds too bad," Susan said. "I suppose everybody can think what they like as long as they don't hurt anybody. As long as he isn't dangerous."
"We don't know if he's dangerous or not," Margaret said, firmly, reaching across to pour the tea. "He's an odd one, and that's certain. You stay away from him, Miss Susan, Mrs. Hamilton, I mean. Don't you start letting him in here, no matter what he says."
"I won't," Susan promised, pushing her teacup over to be filled. "You haven't come to talk about Mr. Lefay, though. I'm so glad to see you. It must be nearly ten years. You haven't changed a bit."
"Neither have you," said Margaret, with a small smile. "You always was the pretty one. I was so sad to hear about your brothers and sister, miss, they was such nice young people. I saw them here, quite a few times, you know, when they came to visit the professor. They was always so friendly, such a terrible thing, young lives cut short like that."
Susan was accustomed to hearing this, and it no longer had any power to sting. She nodded gravely and hoped, as she always did, that her expression managed to convey an appropriate combination of downcast gratitude.
"You must miss them something dreadful," Margaret carried on. She sighed heavily, and twisted her teaspoon between her fingers. "I know there isn't a day goes past when I don't think of the professor. He was a lovely man. Lovely."
Susan nodded again, although in truth her memories of the professor were few, and had faded over the years.
"My brothers and sister knew him better than I did," she confessed. "I know they had been to see him just a week before the accident, although I don't know what they had been planning. I've been thinking about it a lot. Do you know what they were all doing? It seems an impossible thing that it could have been chance, all of them in the same accident, if they hadn't been meeting one another. My brothers weren't on the train, you know, they were waiting on the platform. I don't suppose you know where they were all going?"
Margaret shook her head.
"Far as I know the professor was just going off out for the day and then coming back here," she said. "And I don't know about it being any more than just bad luck. More than a hundred poor souls lost in that crash, God rest them. Seems like half the country had somebody lost or injured on that day. All I know is that he went off cheerfully enough. He'd been singing in his bath, just like usual. Oh God Our Help In Ages Past, I remember it. I was in here cooking his breakfast eggs, and I always liked to listen to him, he'd a fine, deep voice. Anyway he had his breakfast and off he went, calling to tell me he wouldn't be in at lunch. It was cold that morning. He wore his greatcoat and his hat. His town hat, he used to call it. It was foggy, I remember, real pea-souper."
"They said that was why the driver missed the signal," Susan reflected. "He just didn't see it in the fog. I'm so sorry to intrude on your memories, Margaret. It must be painful for you as well. I've just been wondering about it for such a long time. I don't know why they were all in the same place, and I thought perhaps the professor might have said something to you. I suppose we won't ever know now."
"I can't help you, miss," Margaret said. "I'd wondered myself."
She sighed, and poured more tea into her cup.
"I suppose I wanted to know if you were going to manage by yourself, miss," she said. "I don't really do much heavy work now, the cold gets into my joints something terrible, and the professor left me quite nicely set up, God rest him, but I thought I could come and do a couple of afternoons for you if you needed it. We'd have to get the laundry done in the village, mind, I'm not up to wringing sheets these days, but I could lend you a bit of a hand."
"That's very kind of you," Susan said. "I would be grateful for some help if you felt you could manage it. I have to clear the professor's things out. My husband wants to sell the cottage as soon as possible, and it has to be emptied. Of course if there was anything you wanted to keep..."
The look of disappointment on Margaret's round face silenced her. For a moment neither of them spoke. Eventually Margaret sipped her tea, more noisily than necessary.
"Well, you must do what you must do, I suppose, miss," she said, although Susan thought a distance had crept into her voice. "I'll help with what I can, and of course, you're right. It needs to be emptied. After all, it's almost a year now, and all those books are just gathering dust. Don't you think you might fancy staying, though? It'd be a lovely home with a little family in it. There's a couple of the window frames starting to go a bit, but nothing that couldn't easily be fixed. You'd be happy here."
I know I would, Susan thought, unexpectedly. I could be happy here.
For a moment she saw herself, playing in the garden with a baby, pushing a child on a swing from the branch of the old oak tree. She pushed the thought away. Daniel had decided to cut the tree down.
"It's a beautiful old place," she said, gently, "and I love it. But my husband has to work. He's an accountant. He couldn't do that here. He has to be in London."
"Folks needs accountants here as well," Margaret said, stubbornly. "He could set up shop in the village. There's plenty here would be glad to talk their money worries over with somebody they could trust. He'd find enough to keep him busy, without all that rushing about they do in towns."
Susan nodded.
"I don't know what he would say about it," she lied. "I could ask. In any case I'm going to be staying here for a while, so I don't want to empty everything yet. It's his private things I need to sort out. His clothes. I think somebody is coming for his books."
She explained about the university, and Margaret nodded in approval.
"Better to have all those books somewhere that lots of people can read them," she agreed. "It's a waste of good learning to leave it all gathering dust in here. It ought to go where there's people who want it. As for his clothes, we're having a jumble sale at the Mothers' Union on Saturday morning, why don't we take them down there? There's plenty would be glad for a chance of them, he always dressed nicely, and we're raising money for the Sunday school party at Christmas. It's a good cause. Some of the little ones don't have much of a time of it otherwise, there's not much money in a farm labourer's wage packet for bringing up a family. We've got Father Christmas coming, bringing a present for them all. Makes it magical."
A stab of pain twitched in Susan's throat. She paused for a moment until her breaths came more evenly again.
"That would be perfect," she said. "I can't think that anything would be more - more right. Thank you."
Margaret beamed.
"We can get everything packed into bags and ask Mr. Hooper if he could pick it up in his van one evening," she suggested. "He's churchwarden. You haven't got transport, have you, miss? That was something I meant to ask you about. Have you looked in the shed at the far end of the garden? I thought not. The professor always kept a couple of bicycles in there, one for himself, one for his lady friend when she visited. They used to go off all over the place on them. I expect they'll be still there. We could have a look when we've had this cup of tea. The key's in the back corner of the dresser drawer. You could join us at Mothers' Union then. Wednesday evenings. We never miss. Bit of company and a cup of tea, it'd be just what you need."
For a moment the polite refusal hovered on Susan's lips. Then almost against her will, even as she drew in breath to give it voice, it died.
She smiled at Margaret.
"You may be right," she said. "Thank you. That would be lovely."