Emma’s Wedding. Бетти Нилс

I’d let you know I’ve given in my notice. She’s furious; she’ll never get anyone by Wednesday. Wouldn’t hurt her to do a bit of housework herself. Mind she doesn’t expect you to take on any more work.’

      Emma was stripping beds. ‘I don’t see how she can…’

      ‘She’ll think of something. I’d better get on, I suppose. Bye.’

      Mrs Brooke-Tigh came back earlier than usual; Emma was setting the tea tray ready for the next tenants when she walked in.

      ‘That girl’s leaving,’ she told Emma without preamble. ‘She never was much good but at least she was a pair of hands. I’ll never get anyone else at such short notice. We will have to manage as best we can. I shall notify the next two weeks’ tenants that they can’t come in until six o’clock. If you come at nine o’clock and work until six you can do both cottages. I’ll pay you another fifteen pounds a day—thirty pounds a week more.’

      Emma didn’t answer at once. The money would be useful…‘I’m willing to do that for the next week and, if I must, the second week. But no longer than that.’

      Mrs Brooke-Tigh sniffed. ‘I should have thought that you would have jumped at the chance of more money.’ She would have said more, but the look Emma gave her left the words dying on her tongue. Instead she said ungraciously, ‘Well, all right, I’ll agree to that.’ She turned to go. ‘Bring your stuff over and I’ll pay you.’

      There was a car outside the door as she left. It appeared to be full of small children, and a friendly young woman, the one who had been with the doctor, got out. ‘I say, hello, how nice to meet you again. We’re here for a week so we must get to know each other.’ She smiled. ‘Where’s that woman who runs the place?’

      ‘I’ll fetch her,’ said Emma, ‘and I’d love to see you again.’

      CHAPTER THREE

      IT WAS quite late in the evening when the phone rang. ‘It’s me, Wibeke Wolff. There wasn’t time to talk so I got that woman to give me your phone number. I do know who you are, Roele told me, so please forgive me for ringing you up. I don’t know anyone here. Roele’s only free occasionally, and I wondered if you would show me the best places to take the children. A beach where they can be safe in the water? If you would like, could we go somewhere tomorrow? I’ll get a picnic organised. This is awful cheek…’

      ‘I’d love a picnic,’ said Emma. ‘There are some lovely beaches but we don’t need to go far tomorrow; there’s South Sands only a few minutes in a car. Would that do for a start?’

      ‘It sounds ideal. You’re sure you don’t mind?’

      ‘No, of course not. Where shall I meet you?’

      ‘Here at this cottage? About ten o’clock? I thought we might come back about three o’clock. You’re sure I’m not spoiling your day?’

      ‘No, I’m looking forward to it. And I’ll be there in the morning.’

      ‘Who was that, Emma?’ Her mother looked hopeful. ‘Someone you have met taking you out for lunch?’

      ‘A picnic. Mrs Wibeke Wolff with three children; we’re having a picnic lunch at South Sands tomorrow.’

      ‘Oh, well, I suppose it’s a change for you. I shall be out in the afternoon; I’ll make a sandwich or something for my lunch.’

      Emma took this remark for what it was worth. Her mother had no intention of doing any such thing. She said cheerfully, ‘I’ll leave lunch all ready for you, Mother, and cook supper after we’ve been to church. Unless you want to go to Matins?’

      ‘You know I need my rest in the morning. Just bring me a cup of tea and I’ll manage my own breakfast.’

      ‘If you want to,’ said Emma briskly. ‘There’ll be breakfast as usual in the morning, but if you would rather get up later and cook something?’

      ‘No, no, I’ll come down in my dressing gown. I don’t have much strength in the morning, but then of course I have always been delicate.’

      Emma, her head full of the morrow’s picnic, wasn’t listening.

      Sunday was another glorious morning. Emma got into a cotton dress and sandals, found a straw hat and a swimsuit, got breakfast for her gently complaining parent and made her way through the still quiet streets to the holiday cottages.