vegetable or mineral, the clue would be animal.’
‘But the tins are metal.’
‘Precisely.’
I wondered whether gathering all this stuff had sent her slightly mad. Perhaps Alison and Lucy had looked respectively at their mother and grandfather and decided to fake a kidnap, raise a thousand pounds and flee the country.
‘I give in.’
At that moment, the maid returned carrying a tray that looked far too big for her. I watched as she placed it precariously on the edge of the full table.
Mrs Hart made a space, moving several pairs of misshapen slippers that bore a strong resemblance to greasy felt hats. ‘Tell Mrs Shackleton, Annie. She can’t guess the original purpose of our decorative bins.’
Annie sighed. ‘Offal. They held offal. The butcher saves ’em for us.’ She beat a hasty retreat.
Mrs Hart called her back. ‘Annie! I know for sure that Alison made several pounds of chocolate bon bons. Do you know where they are?’
Annie took a deep breath as though to savour her own words. ‘You know Miss Alison and chocolates, madam. Two guesses where they are.’
Mrs Hart waited until Annie had closed the door. ‘Silly girl. As if Alison would scoff the lot.’ Mrs Hart stirred the tea in the pot. ‘Don’t these decoupage tins make perfect work-of-art waste bins?’
‘They do. Most ingenious.’
It dawned on me. I would be held captive. She would shortly produce knitting needles, wool and a tea-cosy pattern. I would not be released until I knitted twelve tea cosies. The prison authorities could have learned a thing or two from Mrs Hart. Oakum picking? Child’s play!
Not to be rude, I would take tea, sit for several minutes longer, and discuss the play, and Alison’s role, while thinking of a way to find clues as to where Lucy and Alison might be.
My intention to enquire after the elusive Mrs deVries evaporated. If she existed, Mrs Hart would undoubtedly know her, and Mrs deVries would not thank me for naming her to such a thorough person.
We agreed how clever it was of Miss Jamieson to turn the story of
Anna of the Five Towns
into a living, breathing play.
‘They rehearsed in such odd ways sometimes,’ Mrs Hart said, an edge of disapproval creeping in. ‘Miss Jamieson is something of a Bohemian I expect. It had me worried at times, though of course Alison and Lucy are so level-headed, and Rodney Milner is a charming young man. But off the three of them trotted, to be in character they called it. Not just learning the words but pretending to be Henry Mynors, Anna Tellwright and Beatrice Sutton. How extraordinary! Off they’d go on a picnic, taking not what they liked but what they imagined their characters would tuck into.’
‘Whatever Miss Jamieson did, it worked. The performances were quite extraordinary.’
Mrs Hart smiled. ‘My feeling is that Miss Jamieson chose them for their parts very cleverly. For instance, Alison played Beatrice Sutton, who loves chocolates.’
‘Is Alison likely to be back soon?’ I asked. ‘I would have liked to congratulate her again on her performance.’
‘She’s staying the weekend with Lucy.’
Ah, so that was the way of it. They were providing each other with an alibi. But why?
‘Have they been friends long?’
‘They were at Harrogate Ladies’ College together.’ Mrs Hart poured tea. ‘Help yourself to a biscuit.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Of course, Alison insisted on taking a position on leaving college. She has an important post in the solicitor’s office. Her father would never have allowed it had he lived.’
‘Alison and Lucy must have lots of friends from their college days.’
Mrs Hart returned to filling cones with marshmallows. ‘Times move on, and so many of the girls boarded. They write, but really it’s just Alison and Lucy now.’
‘I expect being in amateur dramatics broadens their social circle.’
Mrs Hart looked down her nose at a slab of toffee. ‘Are you any good at hammering toffee into even
‘But the tins are metal.’
‘Precisely.’
I wondered whether gathering all this stuff had sent her slightly mad. Perhaps Alison and Lucy had looked respectively at their mother and grandfather and decided to fake a kidnap, raise a thousand pounds and flee the country.
‘I give in.’
At that moment, the maid returned carrying a tray that looked far too big for her. I watched as she placed it precariously on the edge of the full table.
Mrs Hart made a space, moving several pairs of misshapen slippers that bore a strong resemblance to greasy felt hats. ‘Tell Mrs Shackleton, Annie. She can’t guess the original purpose of our decorative bins.’
Annie sighed. ‘Offal. They held offal. The butcher saves ’em for us.’ She beat a hasty retreat.
Mrs Hart called her back. ‘Annie! I know for sure that Alison made several pounds of chocolate bon bons. Do you know where they are?’
Annie took a deep breath as though to savour her own words. ‘You know Miss Alison and chocolates, madam. Two guesses where they are.’
Mrs Hart waited until Annie had closed the door. ‘Silly girl. As if Alison would scoff the lot.’ Mrs Hart stirred the tea in the pot. ‘Don’t these decoupage tins make perfect work-of-art waste bins?’
‘They do. Most ingenious.’
It dawned on me. I would be held captive. She would shortly produce knitting needles, wool and a tea-cosy pattern. I would not be released until I knitted twelve tea cosies. The prison authorities could have learned a thing or two from Mrs Hart. Oakum picking? Child’s play!
Not to be rude, I would take tea, sit for several minutes longer, and discuss the play, and Alison’s role, while thinking of a way to find clues as to where Lucy and Alison might be.
My intention to enquire after the elusive Mrs deVries evaporated. If she existed, Mrs Hart would undoubtedly know her, and Mrs deVries would not thank me for naming her to such a thorough person.
We agreed how clever it was of Miss Jamieson to turn the story of
Anna of the Five Towns
into a living, breathing play.
‘They rehearsed in such odd ways sometimes,’ Mrs Hart said, an edge of disapproval creeping in. ‘Miss Jamieson is something of a Bohemian I expect. It had me worried at times, though of course Alison and Lucy are so level-headed, and Rodney Milner is a charming young man. But off the three of them trotted, to be in character they called it. Not just learning the words but pretending to be Henry Mynors, Anna Tellwright and Beatrice Sutton. How extraordinary! Off they’d go on a picnic, taking not what they liked but what they imagined their characters would tuck into.’
‘Whatever Miss Jamieson did, it worked. The performances were quite extraordinary.’
Mrs Hart smiled. ‘My feeling is that Miss Jamieson chose them for their parts very cleverly. For instance, Alison played Beatrice Sutton, who loves chocolates.’
‘Is Alison likely to be back soon?’ I asked. ‘I would have liked to congratulate her again on her performance.’
‘She’s staying the weekend with Lucy.’
Ah, so that was the way of it. They were providing each other with an alibi. But why?
‘Have they been friends long?’
‘They were at Harrogate Ladies’ College together.’ Mrs Hart poured tea. ‘Help yourself to a biscuit.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Of course, Alison insisted on taking a position on leaving college. She has an important post in the solicitor’s office. Her father would never have allowed it had he lived.’
‘Alison and Lucy must have lots of friends from their college days.’
Mrs Hart returned to filling cones with marshmallows. ‘Times move on, and so many of the girls boarded. They write, but really it’s just Alison and Lucy now.’
‘I expect being in amateur dramatics broadens their social circle.’
Mrs Hart looked down her nose at a slab of toffee. ‘Are you any good at hammering toffee into even
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