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plans. Louise went to the dark little pantry and fetched out a bottle of sherry she had been saving for Zoë’s nineteenth birthday and opened it, and they sat round, the washing up forgotten, while she told them her own sensible plans. They agreed to everything that she suggested; she was the eldest and a good deal older than they were, and they had become accustomed to go to her for help and advice. If she said that it was the best thing for them to move, then move they would, and be overjoyed to do it.

      On her first morning after her return to night duty, she went to the office and handed in her resignation; she had always got on well with the senior nursing officer, and now she was listened to with sympathy.

      ‘In the circumstances,’ declared Miss Pritchard, ‘I can understand that you have no choice but to move to this house which you have been left—most fortuitously, I must add. I shall be very sorry to lose you, Sister, and can but hope that you will be able to find another post near your new home. You can rely upon me to give you an excellent reference, and if I can help in any way, I shall be glad to do so.’

      Her friends at the hospital received her news with mixed feelings; she was well liked and, moreover, they had all known each other for a number of years, but they echoed Miss Pritchard’s opinion; there was nothing else for Louise to do. There was no question of selling the house at Much Hadham, she would never get sufficient for it to buy anything similar in London, and in a way, she reflected on her journey home, it was nice not having to make up her mind about it; circumstances had done that for her. She composed a letter to the landlord before she went to bed, and slept soundly for the first time in days.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ON THE first day of Louise’s next nights off they all went to Much Hadham, Dusty, on his best behaviour, going with them. It was a short journey and they were there before ten o’clock, walking down the village street with its charming mixture of sixteenth and seventeenth-century cottages and large Georgian town houses. The house was more or less in the centre of the village, standing cornerwise on to the junction of a side lane and the main street. It wasn’t large but, even so, bigger than their house in Hoxton, and there was, as far as they could see as they approached it, a sizeable garden. Louise unlocked the front door and they crowded in silently, to stand in the narrow hall and gaze around them. The passage ran from the front door to the back, where there was another stout door, and on either side there were two doors, with a pretty little staircase near the backdoor.

      After a few moments Louise walked to the back door and opened it. The garden was nicely old-fashioned, although neglected, but there was a fair-sized grass plot, flowerbeds and, along the end wall, what had been a vegetable patch with the garden shed at one end of it. Still silently she led the others into the first room: the kitchen, with a stone-flagged floor, a very elderly Aga cooker, an old-fashioned dresser and Windsor chairs around a wooden table. Its windows overlooked the garden at the back.

      Louise said at once, ‘Someone to see to the stove; we can paint the walls and plan to make curtains and polish the furniture…’ She didn’t wait for an answer, but led the way across the hall and opened another door. A small room with worn lino on its floor and faded curtains, but the desk in it was a charming one of rosewood, badly in need of a polish, with a sabrelegged Regency chair drawn up to it, and there was a library table against one wall, flanked by two matching chairs.

      ‘Nice,’ commented Louise, and led her party back into the hall and into the room facing the small front garden. It must have been the drawing-room, they decided, for there were several easy chairs, shabby but whole, a long case clock and a glass-fronted bookcase, as well as a pier table under the window. The carpet under their feet was faded but still good, if somewhat grubby. ‘A good scrub,’ said Louise as they went into the last room. The dining-room, small and rather dark by reason of the gloomy wallpaper and heavy serge curtains. But the table at its centre was solid mahogany, as were the four chairs around it, and there was a sideboard of the same wood.

      They looked at each other and smiled happily and went up the stairs.

      The bathroom was almost a museum piece with a bath on claw feet in the centre of the bare floor, but the geyser above it looked modern enough. The washbasin was large and, like the bath, white, with brass taps and a wooden cupboard beneath it concealing a multitude of pipes. There was lino on the floor here, too, badly in need of replacement.

      There were three bedrooms, one large enough for Zoë and Christine, and two smaller ones for Mike and Louise, and at the back of the landing a tiny curved staircase leading to an attic with windows back and front.

      Louise caught Mike’s look. ‘Once we are in and things have got sorted out, we might turn this into a room for you, Mike; that would give us a spare room. What do you all think of it? Will you be happy here?’

      Their chorus of delight almost deafened her.

      ‘We’ll go and find somewhere where we can have coffee. Then, Mike, will you check the lights? Zoë and Christine, you have got the tape measure? We shall need curtains everywhere; I’m going to see if I can get hold of someone to look at that Aga, and we’ll have to have the floors done. But first we must clean up the place and polish the furniture; we can use most of it except that big bed upstairs. I think there will be enough money to get emulsion and do the painting—if we all come here on my next nights off, we should be able to get a good deal done. We’ll have to picnic.’ She frowned. ‘I might be able to find someone in the village who would give us bed and breakfast…’

      A question solved for her, for, when they got back after having coffee, Miss Wills knocked briskly on the door, introduced herself and suggested without preamble that they might be glad of her help.

      ‘You intend to live here? I thought that you might; it is a dear little house, and so convenient. If you will allow me, I will point out what needs to be done.’

      Which she did, at the same time giving the names and addresses of those who might undertake the various repairs. Her sharp eyes swept over the little group surrounding her. ‘I expect you will do your own painting and cleaning?’

      Louise nodded. ‘Oh, yes. We haven’t much money, but I can see that there are some repairs which must be done before we can move in. I can’t leave my job for another three weeks, although I can come down for my nights off.’

      Miss Wills coughed. ‘I have retired, as you must know; my sister and I share a house in the village. We do bed and breakfast, but at this time of the year we have rooms to spare. You are all welcome to have beds and breakfasts at a nominal sum.’

      Louise gazed at the elderly lady facing her; she had spoken briskly and her severe features had relaxed only slightly, but Louise sensed that she was being friendly and sincere. She said, ‘That is very kind of you, Miss Wills. I haven’t got things worked out yet, but I think that we might all come down on my next nights off and get the house cleaned and begin the painting. Do you suppose that it would be too soon if I were to come back tomorrow and see about carpets and the Aga? If the floors are done, it will be so much easier to move the furniture around and bring down what we have in Hoxton.’

      ‘I don’t see why not. You need Mr Baxter for the Aga and Ted Poolley for the floors—you’ll need to do the cleaning and painting first before he comes, of course, but you could discuss what you need and get an estimate.’

      So matters were arranged, and Miss Wills took herself off with a further recommendation to Louise to let her know if she needed a bed at any time.

      ‘Well, I must say,’ declared Louise when she had gone, ‘it’s as though our fairy godmother has turned up at last.’

      It seemed as if she were right. Mr Baxter, when she saw him the next day, undertook to deal with the Aga, put new washers on all the taps and give the plumbing what he called the ‘once over’, and Ted Poolley, a tall, spidery man who had almost nothing to say, agreed to measure up the kitchen and bathroom floors for a good hardwearing covering and left a book of samples for carpeting. Louise wasn’t sure if there would be enough money for that and she said so, whereupon he advised her to put an advertisement in Mrs Potter’s newspaper shop window, and sell anything she didn’t

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