Living With Marc. Jane Donnelly

and Robin laughed with her.

      After breakfast, with Mrs Myson in the passenger seat, Robin was an excellent driver. She judged her speeds, foresaw other drivers’ antics, gears slipped in smoothly and she even found parking spaces.

      The first stop was the cat rescue centre, home of the woman who ran the accounts, to deliver a box of tinned cat food. Mrs Myson stayed in the car while Robin knocked on the front door and handed in the box to a plump woman with a pussy-cat smile.

      ‘This will be very welcome,’ said the woman, and waved to Mrs Myson, sitting in the car at the kerbside. ‘Thanks ever so much,’ she called, and said to Robin, ‘She’s a wonderful woman.’

      ‘I think so,’ said Robin.

      After that she drove Mrs Myson around the country lanes until lunchtime, when they stopped at a thatch-roofed pub called the Cottage of Content. Neither had been there before but the name was inviting, and inside there were dark beams and white ceilings and walls, and they had a very good vegetable soup and fluffy omelettes.

      When they’d finished their coffee Robin asked, ‘Do you want to go home now?’

      Mrs Myson shrugged. ‘I suppose so, unless you’ve any other suggestions.’

      ‘Well, I would like to do some shopping.’ She had a month’s wages in advance in her purse. ‘I need some make-up, and I thought, perhaps, a dress.’

      ‘What a good idea,’ said Mrs Myson. ‘Broadway has some nice shops; we’ll go there.’

      As they left the dining room more than one head turned to watch the tall, aristocratic old lady and the tall, beautiful girl.

      They took their time wandering up and down the main road of the tourist town. They stopped to look into windows of antiques shops, art galleries, upmarket boutiques. Robin bought inexpensive make-up, undies and a T-shirt, then spotted a dress that seemed reasonably priced in a window and asked, ‘What do you think?’

      ‘Let’s see it,’ said Mrs Myson.

      It was just what Robin wanted—simple and stylish, drop-waisted, a perfect fit that rested lightly on her hips, in a silky material in a coppery shade. In the same shop she bought a pair of low-heeled black patent leather pumps, and when she went to pay was told that Mrs Myson had done so already.

      This had to stop. After the bracelet this was all it needed to convince Marc Hammond that Robin was a grabber. She said, ‘Oh, no!’ but Mrs Myson had already left the shop and the car was only a few minutes away.

      Robin said, ‘I can’t let you do this,’ when she caught up with her. ‘I must pay myself.’

      ‘We’ll talk about it later.’

      Later Robin would hand over the money to Mrs Myson and say thank you, but it was getting late and high time that Robin was driving her home. In the car Robin asked, ‘Are you all right? This hasn’t been too much for you?’

      ‘I’ve really enjoyed myself,’ said Mrs Myson. ‘Some very enjoyable things have happened to me this afternoon. In the dress shop the manageress said to me, “What a pretty girl your granddaughter is.”’

      ‘Oh!’ Robin found herself blushing. ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘I was flattered.’ Mrs Myson laughed delightedly. ‘And when we were walking along almost every man we passed turned to look again. I saw them reflected in the windows.’

      ‘Oh, that,’ said Robin.

      ‘You’re used to it,’ Mrs Myson teased, ‘but it’s a long time since it happened to me. Women always turn and stare when I’m with Marc but today the men did, and if they thought I was your grandmother perhaps they thought, That’s where she got her good looks from.’

      Robin suspected that the old lady was talking nonsense to stop her arguing about the bill in the dress shop, but it was fun, and although Robin was determined to settle that account later the journey passed in listening to a chat show on the radio, with Mrs Myson saying every five minutes or so, ‘Don’t they talk a load of rubbish, these politicians?’

      The Mercedes was in the garage when Robin backed her car in. ‘Marc’s home,’ said Mrs Myson happily, and all the fizz went out of the day for Robin. The door from the garage going into the side-passage was unlocked, and they came into the house through the kitchen.

      ‘We’re home,’ Mrs Myson called, and Elsie came down the stairs at the same time as Marc Hammond came into the hall.

      ‘You haven’t been overdoing it?’ Elsie sounded accusing and Mrs Myson smiled.

      ‘We’ve had a lovely time. We went shopping in Broadway.’

      ‘So I see,’ Marc Hammond said wryly. Robin was carrying two large red shiny bags with ‘Sandra’s’ in black flowing script across them. ‘Not for you, I imagine.’