‘Into the village. Where’s Dolly?’
‘She’s on the phone, the social services again, asking what they want her to bring in. I dunno.’
‘Are you stopping, then?’ Ester demanded.
‘Yeah, I got nowhere else to go, have I?’ muttered Kathleen.
Angela joined them, followed by Dolly, so they all squashed into the Range Rover and departed, leaving Kathleen alone.
‘I’ll need builders’ estimates, see how much the place will cost to get into order,’ Dolly said, as they bounced down the lane. ‘Get these potholes filled
in,’ she said, staring out of the window. She looked back at the house. ‘I don’t know about this, Ester, I mean . . .’
Ester pulled on the brake. ‘Dolly, look at the place. Take a good look. It’s crying out for kids, isn’t it?’ A dull chorus of, ‘Oh, yes, kids’ll love it
here.’
Gloria’s car wasn’t ready so Connie and Angela were dropped off at the local railway station. Ester took Dolly on to the Aylesbury town hall. ‘I’ll wait
here for you.’ She smiled.
Dolly nodded but seemed ill at ease. ‘I’ll just see what they say. I shouldn’t be too long, then I’ll need to do a bit of shopping, tights and stuff like that.’
As soon as she walked into the town hall, Ester drove straight to the bank. She kept a good lookout for anyone following her and hurried inside.
Dolly waited in the anteroom and eventually a pleasant-faced woman called Deirdre Bull asked if she would come into her office. Dolly was offered a seat and coffee, as Deirdre
sat down behind her cluttered desk. The walls were lined with posters for foster carers and adoption societies.
‘Now, it’s Mrs Rawlins, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Dorothy Rawlins. I’ve come to ask you about opening a foster home. I’ve done a bit of research with a probation officer but I thought I’d just run a few things by
you.’
Deirdre nodded and began opening drawers. ‘First there are some forms you’ll need to look over and fill in. Have you ever been a foster carer before?’
‘No, I haven’t, but I’m buying a big house and I could accommodate up to ten or twelve kids easily.’
Deirdre was so relaxed and friendly that Dolly began to ease up, as Deirdre patiently passed her one form after another to look over.
‘Are you married?’
‘I’m a widow.’
Deirdre nodded, not really listening, just passing leaflets across the desk.
‘Do you have children?’
‘No, but I have worked with a lot of babies recently, and I have some letters from . . .’
Ester handed the cheque to the cashier. Impatient, her eyes on the clock, she’d had to stand in a queue for ten minutes. The cashier’s pace was slow, steady, which
Ester found infuriating. He looked first at the cheque, then at Ester’s paying-in slip.
‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’ Ester asked sharply, leaning closer into the counter. ‘I’m in rather a hurry and I have someone waiting.’
The cashier peered at Ester. ‘It’s Miss Freeman, isn’t it? Could you wait one moment?’
‘Why? All I want are the documents I’ve listed. Can’t you just get them for me? I’m in a hurry.’
‘The manager will need to speak to you, Miss Freeman,’ the cashier said pleasantly.
‘But there’s nothing wrong with the cheque, is there?’
‘No, not that I can see, but he will need to talk to you. Your account has been frozen.’
‘I know that,’ Ester retorted. It was hard for her not to know just what her financial situation was. She was in debt up to her eyeballs, tax inspectors breathing down her neck, and
the only asset she had was the manor – and that was frozen like her accounts. Ester had no way of getting any cash without Dolly, and it hurt to hand over the cheque.
She tried a different approach. ‘I just want the deeds to Grange Manor House.’ She gave a soft smile. ‘I have a cash buyer and surely it’s worth considering that part of
the overdraft could be paid off. If the bank tried to sell the house,
‘She’s on the phone, the social services again, asking what they want her to bring in. I dunno.’
‘Are you stopping, then?’ Ester demanded.
‘Yeah, I got nowhere else to go, have I?’ muttered Kathleen.
Angela joined them, followed by Dolly, so they all squashed into the Range Rover and departed, leaving Kathleen alone.
‘I’ll need builders’ estimates, see how much the place will cost to get into order,’ Dolly said, as they bounced down the lane. ‘Get these potholes filled
in,’ she said, staring out of the window. She looked back at the house. ‘I don’t know about this, Ester, I mean . . .’
Ester pulled on the brake. ‘Dolly, look at the place. Take a good look. It’s crying out for kids, isn’t it?’ A dull chorus of, ‘Oh, yes, kids’ll love it
here.’
Gloria’s car wasn’t ready so Connie and Angela were dropped off at the local railway station. Ester took Dolly on to the Aylesbury town hall. ‘I’ll wait
here for you.’ She smiled.
Dolly nodded but seemed ill at ease. ‘I’ll just see what they say. I shouldn’t be too long, then I’ll need to do a bit of shopping, tights and stuff like that.’
As soon as she walked into the town hall, Ester drove straight to the bank. She kept a good lookout for anyone following her and hurried inside.
Dolly waited in the anteroom and eventually a pleasant-faced woman called Deirdre Bull asked if she would come into her office. Dolly was offered a seat and coffee, as Deirdre
sat down behind her cluttered desk. The walls were lined with posters for foster carers and adoption societies.
‘Now, it’s Mrs Rawlins, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Dorothy Rawlins. I’ve come to ask you about opening a foster home. I’ve done a bit of research with a probation officer but I thought I’d just run a few things by
you.’
Deirdre nodded and began opening drawers. ‘First there are some forms you’ll need to look over and fill in. Have you ever been a foster carer before?’
‘No, I haven’t, but I’m buying a big house and I could accommodate up to ten or twelve kids easily.’
Deirdre was so relaxed and friendly that Dolly began to ease up, as Deirdre patiently passed her one form after another to look over.
‘Are you married?’
‘I’m a widow.’
Deirdre nodded, not really listening, just passing leaflets across the desk.
‘Do you have children?’
‘No, but I have worked with a lot of babies recently, and I have some letters from . . .’
Ester handed the cheque to the cashier. Impatient, her eyes on the clock, she’d had to stand in a queue for ten minutes. The cashier’s pace was slow, steady, which
Ester found infuriating. He looked first at the cheque, then at Ester’s paying-in slip.
‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’ Ester asked sharply, leaning closer into the counter. ‘I’m in rather a hurry and I have someone waiting.’
The cashier peered at Ester. ‘It’s Miss Freeman, isn’t it? Could you wait one moment?’
‘Why? All I want are the documents I’ve listed. Can’t you just get them for me? I’m in a hurry.’
‘The manager will need to speak to you, Miss Freeman,’ the cashier said pleasantly.
‘But there’s nothing wrong with the cheque, is there?’
‘No, not that I can see, but he will need to talk to you. Your account has been frozen.’
‘I know that,’ Ester retorted. It was hard for her not to know just what her financial situation was. She was in debt up to her eyeballs, tax inspectors breathing down her neck, and
the only asset she had was the manor – and that was frozen like her accounts. Ester had no way of getting any cash without Dolly, and it hurt to hand over the cheque.
She tried a different approach. ‘I just want the deeds to Grange Manor House.’ She gave a soft smile. ‘I have a cash buyer and surely it’s worth considering that part of
the overdraft could be paid off. If the bank tried to sell the house,
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