Mr Cavell's Diamond by Kathleen McGurl Page B

it. Ma just stood and smiled. Mr Cavell paid the doctor his bill, inspected the medicine the doctor gave him and nodded at all the advice. When the doctor went, he threw the medicine in the fireplace.
    ‘ Humble is a quack,’ he said. ‘You did well to call a doctor but next time, send for the other fellow. Or just fetch your very capable and sensible mother. Thank you, Mrs Brown, for all you have done for me. Open that window up again would you? I like a breath of fresh air in here.’
     

Henry
     
    ‘Jemima? Jemima!’ Henry called down the stairs which led to the kitchen. ‘Fetch Sultan’s lead and let’s take him for a run on the beach. It’s a marvellous day, and the good Lord knows we’ve had enough rain these last couple of months. Let’s make the most of the good weather.’
    Jemima came to the foot of the stairs and smiled up at her employer. ‘Sir, I’m only just begun on the pie for dinner, and I’ve the grates to clean and fires to set after that…’
    Henry waved impatiently. ‘The pie can wait, the grates can stay dirty, I’ll not need any fires tonight. It’s warm, woman, spring is here! Come on, Sultan’s longing to go out!’
    He went to the cloakroom and grabbed a bonnet and a shawl, which he threw down the stairs to her. Jemima caught them and frowned.
    ‘Sir, this is not my shawl, tis the mistress’s,’ she said. ‘Mine is the grey one.’
    Henry laughed. ‘I know which is yours. But the blue would look better on you, and the mistress need not know you wore it. Here, Sultan, ready to go out?’
    He bent to ruffle the excited dog’s ears. Life had been good lately. Since he’d got over the illness which had brought him back to the seaside, he’d felt relaxed and happy. He wrote letters and dealt with business in the mornings while Jemima ran errands and cleaned the house. In the afternoons he’d go out, visiting Dennett or other friends. Last week, he’d returned home from seeing Dennett and had bumped into Jemima on her way out with Sultan. He’d turned around and accompanied them, despite Jemima’s blushes and protestations. Since that day, an afternoon walk with her and the dog had become a pleasurable habit, and he’d found himself looking forward to it each day.
    Jemima was holding out the blue shawl. ‘Sir, really, I mustn’t wear this. Even if the mistress doesn’t know I wore it, I would know. I’ll fetch my grey one, tis a perfectly good one.’
    Henry knew when he was beaten, and returned the blue shawl to its peg. He wondered briefly whether he should buy her a new shawl, or whether she’d even accept such a gift.
    ‘Well, a shawl’s a shawl, I suppose. Are you ready now , woman?’ He tied a rope to Sultan’s collar and offered Jemima his arm with a grin and a mock bow.
    ‘ I am that,’ said Jemima with a smile, walking straight past him to the door. She would not take his arm, he knew. It was not right and proper for a woman of her station, a servant, to take the arm of her gentleman employer. While they were out she always kept herself a yard or two behind him. Except when she picked up her skirts like a child and went running along the beach after the dog, which Henry loved to watch.
    Outside, the sun shone and the sea glistened and rippled like a length of the finest silk. There were plenty of people out, parading along the promenade, seeing and being seen. A fellow was offering children rides up and down the beach on a sad-looking donkey. A couple of bathing machines were pulled up to the water’s edge, some brave souls enjoying the warm weather. Henry shivered. He did enjoy sea-bathing, but not this early in the year. Give the water two or three more months to warm up, and he’d try it in about June.
    The cold didn’t stop Sultan though. There was nothing the dog liked more than to chase after a stick thrown into the sea. Jemima had tucked one into her skirt for the purpose, and as soon as they were on the beach she pulled it out and flung it,