window and peeped out at Killivray House. She shivered with pleasure; how good it felt to be outside looking in instead of being shut up inside for hours on end.
She could see the shadowy movements of Nanny Bea in the kitchen. She backed away from the window and perched on the edge of the sofa, sitting on her hands to keep her clothes dean.
She thought how lovely it must have been in here in the olden days. She imagined the room cleaned up, the dust swept and the cobwebs cleared away. She imagined bright new curtains hung at the windows, wood crackling in the little iron stove and a hurricane lamp lit to chase away the gloom. Maybe you could even make a pot of tea and fill a tin with biscuits.
If only it could be like it must have been once, she could have a little hidey hole of her own!
She dosed her eyes and pictured Thomas Greswode curled up on the sofa, eating a windfall apple and reading his favourite adventure book. Maybe he even slept out here in the summer?
The creak of the summerhouse door opening startled her. She opened her eyes and stared in trepidation as the door opened further.
Then it stopped. She could hear laboured breathing. A madman on the loose with a gun? A lunatic escaped from the asylum? Why hadn’t she listened to Papa? He had always warned her and Mama about straying too far from the house.
You didn’t know who was hanging about these days, the world was full of ne’er do wells and felons. She slipped silently off the sofa and ducked down behind it.
She bit her lip and made the sign of the cross the way she’d seen Mama do. Beneath her Viyella blouse her heart flailed wildly and her throat tightened with terror.
Whoever had opened the door was now inside the summerhouse and she heard the door dose with a rasping noise. Stealthy footsteps crossed the dusty floor.
She must hold her breath, stay absolutely still, and keep her head down. The minutes ticked on. She was terrified of being found but even more terrified not to know what it was that she had to be afraid of. She peered warily around the side of the sofa.
A man stood with his back to her, looking out of the largest window towards Killivray House. He was humming softly to himself, a tune that her mama had in her record collection:
Ol’Man River, That Ol’Man River
He must know sumpin ’
But don’t say nuthin ’,
He just keeps rottin ’…
He jus’ keeps rottin ’,
He keeps on rottin’ along&hellip ;’
He stopped humming and stiffened as if he had seen something unexpected. Then he turned around very, very slowly. Romilly ducked back down behind the sofa.
She’d only had the briefest glimpse of him. He wore a beige belted mackintosh and a hat that was tilted down over his eyes so that his face was completely in shadow.
For a moment she was sure that he had seen her, then she breathed out with relief as he crossed swiftly to the door and let himself out.
Romilly waited a while and then got awkwardly to her feet and made her way to the door. She peeped outside. All was quiet just a light breeze stirring through the fir trees and the sound of the distant sea.
She stepped outside and stared into a face as startled as her own.
Clementine Fernaud checked her appearance in the mirror in the lavatory at St Werburgh’s station, applied a smidgeon of powder to her nose, adjusted her hair and her spectacles and men went outside to look for the car that was to take her to Killivray House. The train had been two hours late arriving and she hoped that there would still be a car waiting for her.
She was quite exhausted and utterly frozen having spent an hour in the waiting room at Reading Station waiting for the connecting train to St Werburgh’s.
She smiled with relief when she saw the car on the station forecourt.
An elderly man got out of the car and shuffled towards’ her.
“You’ll be the new governess for Killivray, I reckon,” he said, looking her up and down with interest.
“I am so sorry to be
She could see the shadowy movements of Nanny Bea in the kitchen. She backed away from the window and perched on the edge of the sofa, sitting on her hands to keep her clothes dean.
She thought how lovely it must have been in here in the olden days. She imagined the room cleaned up, the dust swept and the cobwebs cleared away. She imagined bright new curtains hung at the windows, wood crackling in the little iron stove and a hurricane lamp lit to chase away the gloom. Maybe you could even make a pot of tea and fill a tin with biscuits.
If only it could be like it must have been once, she could have a little hidey hole of her own!
She dosed her eyes and pictured Thomas Greswode curled up on the sofa, eating a windfall apple and reading his favourite adventure book. Maybe he even slept out here in the summer?
The creak of the summerhouse door opening startled her. She opened her eyes and stared in trepidation as the door opened further.
Then it stopped. She could hear laboured breathing. A madman on the loose with a gun? A lunatic escaped from the asylum? Why hadn’t she listened to Papa? He had always warned her and Mama about straying too far from the house.
You didn’t know who was hanging about these days, the world was full of ne’er do wells and felons. She slipped silently off the sofa and ducked down behind it.
She bit her lip and made the sign of the cross the way she’d seen Mama do. Beneath her Viyella blouse her heart flailed wildly and her throat tightened with terror.
Whoever had opened the door was now inside the summerhouse and she heard the door dose with a rasping noise. Stealthy footsteps crossed the dusty floor.
She must hold her breath, stay absolutely still, and keep her head down. The minutes ticked on. She was terrified of being found but even more terrified not to know what it was that she had to be afraid of. She peered warily around the side of the sofa.
A man stood with his back to her, looking out of the largest window towards Killivray House. He was humming softly to himself, a tune that her mama had in her record collection:
Ol’Man River, That Ol’Man River
He must know sumpin ’
But don’t say nuthin ’,
He just keeps rottin ’…
He jus’ keeps rottin ’,
He keeps on rottin’ along&hellip ;’
He stopped humming and stiffened as if he had seen something unexpected. Then he turned around very, very slowly. Romilly ducked back down behind the sofa.
She’d only had the briefest glimpse of him. He wore a beige belted mackintosh and a hat that was tilted down over his eyes so that his face was completely in shadow.
For a moment she was sure that he had seen her, then she breathed out with relief as he crossed swiftly to the door and let himself out.
Romilly waited a while and then got awkwardly to her feet and made her way to the door. She peeped outside. All was quiet just a light breeze stirring through the fir trees and the sound of the distant sea.
She stepped outside and stared into a face as startled as her own.
Clementine Fernaud checked her appearance in the mirror in the lavatory at St Werburgh’s station, applied a smidgeon of powder to her nose, adjusted her hair and her spectacles and men went outside to look for the car that was to take her to Killivray House. The train had been two hours late arriving and she hoped that there would still be a car waiting for her.
She was quite exhausted and utterly frozen having spent an hour in the waiting room at Reading Station waiting for the connecting train to St Werburgh’s.
She smiled with relief when she saw the car on the station forecourt.
An elderly man got out of the car and shuffled towards’ her.
“You’ll be the new governess for Killivray, I reckon,” he said, looking her up and down with interest.
“I am so sorry to be
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