Jemima poured tea carefully from a small silver teapot. ‘That’s an abominable thing to say,’ she pointed out severely, and handed him his cup and saucer. He put it down by his chair and in turn handed her the plate of sandwiches.
It was a little unnerving, but by the time she had given both of them a second cup of tea, and eaten her share of the sandwiches and started upon the really delicious walnut cake, her sensible nature had reasserted itself. And as for her companion, he appeared to be the picture of ease and contentment, sitting there eating his tea for all the world as if he were alone. It was a chastening thought that she made not the slightest impression upon him, a remark borne out by his: ‘You may not set the Thames on fire, Miss Mason, but at least you don’t chatter,’ as he got to his feet and went out of the room.
She sat very still after he had gone. He had been extremely rude, for two pins she would get her things and leave the house and leave him and his arrogant old aunt to fend for themselves. But of course she couldn’t do that; she hadn’t two pins, let alone a week’s salary, and the beautiful Gloria would undoubtedly fend very nicely for the Professor.
She heard their voices presently as they prepared to leave, and shortly afterwards Lady Manderly swept into the room, told her to get the tray taken away, and when that was done, began on a list of names of those who were to be invited to a party she intended giving. ‘In two weeks’ time,’ she observed. ‘Just a small affair—my birthday, you know.’ She shot a glance at Jemima. ‘There will be a good deal of organising to do.’
From which Jemima concluded that she was to be organiser in chief.
Lady Manderly was still murmuring on about smoked salmon and should she have oyster patties when the carriage clock above the fireplace tinkled the hour. Jemima finished the note she was making and closed the book.
‘I’ll start on the invitations tomorrow morning, shall I, Lady Manderly?’ She stood up, aware that Lady Manderly was looking surprised. ‘It’s six o’clock,’ she went on.
Lady Manderly snapped: ‘A clockwatcher, are you? Another half hour or so…’
‘I’m sorry, but it’s quite a long day, you know, and I have things to do in the evenings—besides, you wouldn’t want to pay me overtime, Lady Manderly.’
Her employer gobbled. ‘Overtime? I have no intention of paying you overtime!’
‘No, I didn’t think you would want to, that’s why I’m going now. Good evening, Lady Manderly.’
Jemima smiled kindly at her companion, who was obviously struggling for words, but by the time she had decided what to say, Jemima had gone.
The flat, when she reached it, looked small and poky and her room dark and shabby, but she told herself that that was because she had just come from such luxurious surroundings. She tidied herself and in response to Shirley’s cheerful shout, went along to the sitting room and sat down to the supper they had invited her to share. Mrs Adams and Shirley greeted her with a casual friendliness which was heartwarming after the arrogance of her employer and Professor Cator’s indifference and rudeness. They piled her plate high with food, poured strong tea and plied her with questions.
‘What’s the old lady like?’ asked Shirley eagerly, and before Jemima could answer: ‘What’s the house like inside?’ asked her mother.
‘Very large,’ said Jemima, and thought that answered both questions very adequately, but it wouldn’t do to make fun of her employer. ‘Lots of lovely furniture and thick velvet curtains. I haven’t seen any bedrooms, indeed I’ve only been in three rooms; the drawing-room is magnificent, a bit like a museum, you know. I work in a smaller room with just a desk and a table and chair or two, and we had lunch in a dining room at the back of the house…’
‘And the old lady?’
‘Very—very dignified. Tall and stout and beautifully dressed. There’s a butler and I suppose there are maids as well, though I haven’t seen any yet.’
‘What did you eat?’ asked Mrs Adams, and cast an involuntary glance at the remains of the steak and kidney pudding on the plastic tablecloth.
‘Well, it sounds a lot, but it wasn’t nearly as good as this pudding, Mrs Adams. It was awfully kind of you to ask me to share it…’
‘It’s your first day,’ explained Mrs Adams. ‘Well, what did you eat?’
‘Soup—just a little bowl full—a clear soup.’
Shirley sniffed. ‘Bovril watered down!’
‘And then a fish soufflé with spinach and afterwards a crème caramel.’
‘Not enough to put into a hollow tooth, I’ll be bound. Tell you what, love, you can eat with us in the evenings for another two pounds a week. Shan’t make anything out of it, but it’s just as easy to cook for three as two and it’ll give you a bit more time to enjoy yourself.’ Mrs Adams added sharply: ‘There ain’t no butler, mind, nor no pudding for afters. Just a cup of tea.’
‘You’re very kind, Mrs Adams, and I’d love to do that if you’re sure it doesn’t put you out. Only if you have visitors will you say so and I’ll have supper in my room? It’ll be lovely to come back to a meal in the evenings, it seemed a long day, but I daresay once I know more about the work, the days will go faster.’
Shirley gave her a look of sympathy tinged with pity. ‘Sounds like a dull old job to me,’ she observed. ‘Any men around?’
‘There’s Belling the butler, but he’s elderly and a bit severe…’ She hesitated and Shirley said quickly: ‘And someone else?’
‘He doesn’t really count,’ said Jemima slowly. ‘He’s Lady Manderly’s nephew—a Professor of Endocrinology, but he doesn’t live there. He came this afternoon with a girl, an absolutely gorgeous creature. You know, golden hair and blue eyes and most wonderful clothes—those knickerbockers, and a waistcoat and the most heavenly boots.’
‘Got ’im ’ooked, ’as she?’ Mrs Adams wanted to know. ‘I don’t ’old with them knickers, nor don’t Shirley’s young man.’
Shirley pouted. ‘Old-fashioned, that’s what ’e is,’ she complained, ‘always talking about moons and roses and Ginger Rogers dresses!’
‘Well, they were rather fetching,’ said Jemima, and far safer for Shirley, she thought privately; such a nice friendly girl, but her legs didn’t bear too much limelight on them. Nor do mine, for that matter, thought Jemima, erroneously, as a matter of fact; she had nice legs, but since no one had ever told her so, she took it for granted that they were better concealed by a skirt.
She helped with the washing up presently and then went to her room to write to Dick before making herself a mug of cocoa on the gas ring. She lit the gas fire, and sitting up in bed, reading, belatedly, the morning paper, she decided that the little room wasn’t too bad at all. Tomorrow she would buy some flowers, she promised herself, and in a week or two, when she had a little money to spare, she would buy one of those cheerful coloured rugs and a cushion or two. She didn’t allow herself to think about her old home; it had gone for good, and she had been lucky to find someone as kind as Mrs Adams. She turned out the fire and the light and closed her eyes. She had a job too, although she wondered sleepily just how long she would keep it. Lady Manderly was an old tyrant and Jemima, although tolerant to a fault, had no intention of being anyone’s doormat. She would see how the cat jumped, but meanwhile, she told herself resolutely, she was both happy and content. Not quite, perhaps; no girl, however happy and content, liked to be told that she wouldn’t set the Thames on fire. ‘Beastly man,’ said Jemima aloud, and went to sleep.
It was all go the next day. Lady Manderly, disappointed that Jemima should present herself