find the washing-up liquid.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Cake will appreciate your pitching in for a few days.” Ben attempted to speed things along, and Tom agreed.
“Well, I wouldn’t want her forced back on her feet before she’s ready.” Mrs. Malloy adjusted her crown. “And I could be a big help getting some of the regular meals, along with keeping things straight while Mr. H is hard at it.”
“Then that’s settled!” Having done battle, Betty sat back.
“Not so fast. There’s the woman that comes in to do the cleaning: Mavis, I think you said her name was. I can’t be treading on her toes neither. It wouldn’t be right. And you’d be in a worse pickle, Mrs. Hopkins, if she was to take umbrage and walk out.”
“She’ll probably do that anyway. I had a set-to with her yesterday afternoon. It wouldn’t surprise me if she doesn’t show up for work on Monday, let alone come in for a couple of hours to help with the tea tomorrow. Like she’d agreed to do.”
“I heard you going at her from three rooms away.” Tom showed emotion beyond his general awkwardness. He looked seriously upset. “It was embarrassing, especially with Val there.She’d just come in with a wallpaper book you had asked her to bring. Needless to say, there was no lingering; she got out the door fast.”
“People will say lottery winners forget how to treat the unfortunates of this world.” Ariel dropped her face in her hands, peeping through her fingers at me.
“Stop talking like you’re the conscience of the nation!” Betty looked ready to explode. “I had every reason to be furious. Mavis was nowhere to be found when I went looking for her. Probably outside smoking a cigarette or however she chooses to kill time. Then she had the nerve to ask me yet again if she could bring her little boy to work with her, because she can’t find anyone to watch him during the school holidays. When I repeated what I’ve said previously, that other women manage, especially ones with husbands sitting at home because they’re too lazy to work, it was Mavis who went off on me, saying she wouldn’t have brought the matter up if Mrs. Cake hadn’t told her she should. And then she flung a dirty dishcloth. She claimed she was aiming for the sink, but it got me smack in the face.”
Ariel giggled through her pried-apart fingers.
“I don’t see why she shouldn’t bring the little boy with her,” Tom said.
“And have him tear up the house!”
“Somebody for me to play with,” Ariel sobered sufficiently to suggest.
“He’s seven! And an absolute brat, from everything I’ve heard.”
“Lady Fiona let him come.” Tom leaned back in his chair, looking tired.
“Oh, that woman’s so vague.” Betty waved a dismissive hand. “She wouldn’t have noticed if he’d brought the place down around her. Or that’s the impression she gives. Besides,she didn’t have much left of value sitting around to get smashed. Most of it had gone to the sale room, remember?”
“It does become clear that I am needed here.” Mrs. Malloy assumed the burden with the graciousness befitting a monarch. “And”—her crown slipping just a bit—“it would be interesting to meet Mr. Scrimshank tomorrow afternoon in a social setting. Size him up, so to speak, on me sister’s behalf; see if he’s the gentleman she says he is. Melody don’t understand men, never did. And I wouldn’t want him taking advantage of her, on account of having misread the signals. Like I used to tell her, the way she types, pouring all her repressed passion into pounding them keys, could give any man the idea she’d be all fire and fury if he could get her to stop and take off her glasses and look at him. The London Philharmonic never sounded so good.”
“Prelude on the piano in C minor for the typewriter.” Ben’s amusement wrapped itself around me, drawing me close even though we were seated apart from each other. “Sounds like heady stuff.”
“They’ve worked
“I’m sure Mrs. Cake will appreciate your pitching in for a few days.” Ben attempted to speed things along, and Tom agreed.
“Well, I wouldn’t want her forced back on her feet before she’s ready.” Mrs. Malloy adjusted her crown. “And I could be a big help getting some of the regular meals, along with keeping things straight while Mr. H is hard at it.”
“Then that’s settled!” Having done battle, Betty sat back.
“Not so fast. There’s the woman that comes in to do the cleaning: Mavis, I think you said her name was. I can’t be treading on her toes neither. It wouldn’t be right. And you’d be in a worse pickle, Mrs. Hopkins, if she was to take umbrage and walk out.”
“She’ll probably do that anyway. I had a set-to with her yesterday afternoon. It wouldn’t surprise me if she doesn’t show up for work on Monday, let alone come in for a couple of hours to help with the tea tomorrow. Like she’d agreed to do.”
“I heard you going at her from three rooms away.” Tom showed emotion beyond his general awkwardness. He looked seriously upset. “It was embarrassing, especially with Val there.She’d just come in with a wallpaper book you had asked her to bring. Needless to say, there was no lingering; she got out the door fast.”
“People will say lottery winners forget how to treat the unfortunates of this world.” Ariel dropped her face in her hands, peeping through her fingers at me.
“Stop talking like you’re the conscience of the nation!” Betty looked ready to explode. “I had every reason to be furious. Mavis was nowhere to be found when I went looking for her. Probably outside smoking a cigarette or however she chooses to kill time. Then she had the nerve to ask me yet again if she could bring her little boy to work with her, because she can’t find anyone to watch him during the school holidays. When I repeated what I’ve said previously, that other women manage, especially ones with husbands sitting at home because they’re too lazy to work, it was Mavis who went off on me, saying she wouldn’t have brought the matter up if Mrs. Cake hadn’t told her she should. And then she flung a dirty dishcloth. She claimed she was aiming for the sink, but it got me smack in the face.”
Ariel giggled through her pried-apart fingers.
“I don’t see why she shouldn’t bring the little boy with her,” Tom said.
“And have him tear up the house!”
“Somebody for me to play with,” Ariel sobered sufficiently to suggest.
“He’s seven! And an absolute brat, from everything I’ve heard.”
“Lady Fiona let him come.” Tom leaned back in his chair, looking tired.
“Oh, that woman’s so vague.” Betty waved a dismissive hand. “She wouldn’t have noticed if he’d brought the place down around her. Or that’s the impression she gives. Besides,she didn’t have much left of value sitting around to get smashed. Most of it had gone to the sale room, remember?”
“It does become clear that I am needed here.” Mrs. Malloy assumed the burden with the graciousness befitting a monarch. “And”—her crown slipping just a bit—“it would be interesting to meet Mr. Scrimshank tomorrow afternoon in a social setting. Size him up, so to speak, on me sister’s behalf; see if he’s the gentleman she says he is. Melody don’t understand men, never did. And I wouldn’t want him taking advantage of her, on account of having misread the signals. Like I used to tell her, the way she types, pouring all her repressed passion into pounding them keys, could give any man the idea she’d be all fire and fury if he could get her to stop and take off her glasses and look at him. The London Philharmonic never sounded so good.”
“Prelude on the piano in C minor for the typewriter.” Ben’s amusement wrapped itself around me, drawing me close even though we were seated apart from each other. “Sounds like heady stuff.”
“They’ve worked
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