reliable lady in an unmistakable London accent. She held out her hand. ‘It’ll be till Monday afternoon, then?’
Isabel nodded and smiled. ‘Yes, I’ll be staying until then. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Clements.’
‘Well, ye’d better come in. I’ve put the kettle on, and the front room’s ready.’
‘I’ll take Miss Munday’s case up to her room, shall I?’ asked Mark.
‘Certainly not, Mr Storey! Clements’ll carry that up for her,’ replied the lady, clearly shocked at the very idea of him entering the bedroom of a female guest. She led them both into a small, rather overfurnished front parlour, and Mark smiled at this sign of respect; front parlours were only used on very special occasions.
To Isabel the room felt cold and unlived-in. She sat down on an armchair and accepted a cup of tea from Mrs Clements.
‘What time d’yer want yer tea, Miss Munday?’
The term
tea
was also used in the Munday household to denote the evening meal, and Isabel hesitated; Mark broke in to explain what he had planned.
‘When Miss Munday’s seen her room and has settled in, I’d like to show her over the church, Mrs Clements.’
‘What, before she’s had her tea, Mr Storey?’
‘Yes, please, if it won’t inconvenience you.’
‘Right, when she’s ready I’ll bring her over.’
Isabel was about to say that she could make her own way to the church, but Mark silently placed a finger over his mouth. When Isabel had drunk her tea, seen her room and freshened up at the wash bowl on a marble-topped stand, Mrs Clements put on a hatand jacket and escorted her over to the small, soot-bricked vicarage. She rapped on the brass knocker, and when a smiling Mark appeared to take Isabel over to the church, Mrs Clements followed them; while he pointed out objects of interest to Isabel, Mrs Clements sat herself down in a pew at the back. When the couple reached the altar rail and were out of earshot, Mark whispered an explanation.
‘She’s a good-hearted, hard-working soul, Isabel, and as concerned for my reputation as she is for yours,’ he said with a smile.
Isabel smiled back, but uncomprehendingly. ‘How do you mean, Mark?’
‘Anybody who saw us coming into an empty church will have seen our chaperone, too.’
‘Oh, Mark! Does this mean that she’ll come with us everywhere?’
‘No, my love, not everywhere, only in the church if there’s no service on, and certainly in the vicarage. Don’t be hard on her, Isabel, I care about your reputation, too, and I don’t want you talked about!’
Isabel nodded and said that she understood, but privately she felt that Mrs Clements combined admiration of the Rev. Mr Storey with a suspicion, even a vague disapproval, of this chit of a girl who was so obviously after him.
So the sooner they were married, the better.
‘Grace seems to have found her niche at Stepaside,’ remarked Tom Munday.
‘Yes, for the time being – I mean, while she’s so young,’ replied his wife who had opposed the idea of Grace leaving school early to get work as a waitress, no matter how genteel the place. At least it wasn’t in North Camp where every move would be watched.
‘She’s got a good woman to teach her and keep an eye on her there, Vi, that’s what I’m pleased about.’
‘Mrs Brangton? Yes, and Miss Brangton, too – it sounds as if they both like her,’ said Violet. ‘It’ll be good training for her.’
‘In more ways than one,’ replied Tom. ‘You can see that it suits her, by the way she dresses and behaves – she’s a changed girl. I said it would do her good.’
‘Let’s just hope it continues,’ said his wife with a sniff. She hadn’t much liked being overridden, and didn’t want to show too much enthusiasm. It was bad enough for Isabel to go gallivanting off to London for a weekend with that curate, for so Mrs Munday still regarded Mr Storey. Thank heaven for Ernest, doing so well at Schelling and Pascoe, and content to live at
Isabel nodded and smiled. ‘Yes, I’ll be staying until then. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Clements.’
‘Well, ye’d better come in. I’ve put the kettle on, and the front room’s ready.’
‘I’ll take Miss Munday’s case up to her room, shall I?’ asked Mark.
‘Certainly not, Mr Storey! Clements’ll carry that up for her,’ replied the lady, clearly shocked at the very idea of him entering the bedroom of a female guest. She led them both into a small, rather overfurnished front parlour, and Mark smiled at this sign of respect; front parlours were only used on very special occasions.
To Isabel the room felt cold and unlived-in. She sat down on an armchair and accepted a cup of tea from Mrs Clements.
‘What time d’yer want yer tea, Miss Munday?’
The term
tea
was also used in the Munday household to denote the evening meal, and Isabel hesitated; Mark broke in to explain what he had planned.
‘When Miss Munday’s seen her room and has settled in, I’d like to show her over the church, Mrs Clements.’
‘What, before she’s had her tea, Mr Storey?’
‘Yes, please, if it won’t inconvenience you.’
‘Right, when she’s ready I’ll bring her over.’
Isabel was about to say that she could make her own way to the church, but Mark silently placed a finger over his mouth. When Isabel had drunk her tea, seen her room and freshened up at the wash bowl on a marble-topped stand, Mrs Clements put on a hatand jacket and escorted her over to the small, soot-bricked vicarage. She rapped on the brass knocker, and when a smiling Mark appeared to take Isabel over to the church, Mrs Clements followed them; while he pointed out objects of interest to Isabel, Mrs Clements sat herself down in a pew at the back. When the couple reached the altar rail and were out of earshot, Mark whispered an explanation.
‘She’s a good-hearted, hard-working soul, Isabel, and as concerned for my reputation as she is for yours,’ he said with a smile.
Isabel smiled back, but uncomprehendingly. ‘How do you mean, Mark?’
‘Anybody who saw us coming into an empty church will have seen our chaperone, too.’
‘Oh, Mark! Does this mean that she’ll come with us everywhere?’
‘No, my love, not everywhere, only in the church if there’s no service on, and certainly in the vicarage. Don’t be hard on her, Isabel, I care about your reputation, too, and I don’t want you talked about!’
Isabel nodded and said that she understood, but privately she felt that Mrs Clements combined admiration of the Rev. Mr Storey with a suspicion, even a vague disapproval, of this chit of a girl who was so obviously after him.
So the sooner they were married, the better.
‘Grace seems to have found her niche at Stepaside,’ remarked Tom Munday.
‘Yes, for the time being – I mean, while she’s so young,’ replied his wife who had opposed the idea of Grace leaving school early to get work as a waitress, no matter how genteel the place. At least it wasn’t in North Camp where every move would be watched.
‘She’s got a good woman to teach her and keep an eye on her there, Vi, that’s what I’m pleased about.’
‘Mrs Brangton? Yes, and Miss Brangton, too – it sounds as if they both like her,’ said Violet. ‘It’ll be good training for her.’
‘In more ways than one,’ replied Tom. ‘You can see that it suits her, by the way she dresses and behaves – she’s a changed girl. I said it would do her good.’
‘Let’s just hope it continues,’ said his wife with a sniff. She hadn’t much liked being overridden, and didn’t want to show too much enthusiasm. It was bad enough for Isabel to go gallivanting off to London for a weekend with that curate, for so Mrs Munday still regarded Mr Storey. Thank heaven for Ernest, doing so well at Schelling and Pascoe, and content to live at
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