Treachery at Hursley Park House by Claire Gradidge

Author:Claire Gradidge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bonnier Publishing Fiction

16

Tuesday, afternoon and evening

M

Y DAY IMPROVES ONCE MR Anderson leaves, though I can’t get back to my mood of peaceful, couldn’t-care-less pottering. Time to show my face in the post room. It’s nearly lunchtime so I’m not surprised when Mr Brennan calls me over as soon as I walk through the door. After what he said yesterday, he’s bound to have something for me to do.

‘Miss Rennard.’

‘Mr Brennan?’

‘It’s twelve thirty. Time you went to lunch.’

‘I thought you said I—’

‘Yes?’

‘You said I should work through my lunch hours this week, to make up for yesterday.’

‘Did I?’ He looks serious, but there’s a twinkle in his eye. ‘And there’s the missus, complaining I never put two words together.’

‘I can go?’

‘Better had. You’re skinny enough already, can’t have you fading away. Mind, if I need you another day, I’ll expect you to do the extra.’

‘Of course.’ I grab my coat, get out before he changes his mind. Though I’d be glad of something to eat right now, the more pressing problem is getting stocked up for my meals at Sam’s. I know already I can’t have meat, and when I check my ration book it looks as if Hilda’s used at least a fortnight’s worth of my points. I’ll have to make do with whatever the little shop at the south end of the village can supply. Though I’m ashamed of myself, I take the Cyc-Auto rather than walking. I should save the fuel, but right now, saving time seems more important.

The village shop’s one of my stops with goats’ milk and the woman there greets me like a friend. I hand her my ration book, explain what’s happened. Ask her if I can register with her from now on. She looks at the book and shakes her head.

‘You haven’t got much left for this week, dear. All your meat and fat’s gone.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say, thinking guiltily of the bowl of butter at Sam’s.

‘You’ve still got a bit of cheese. Hmm. You won’t worry about milk, of course, but I can’t let you have any sugar or tea.’

‘Never mind. What about bread? Have you got any to spare?’

‘This time of day it’s nearly all gone. I’ve got a couple of cob rolls if they’re any good to you.’

‘They’d be lovely. Does Sam usually have bread from you?’

‘Small loaf Wednesdays and Saturdays,’ she says. ‘Want me to keep them for you?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘You can take it when you bring the milk. That’s what Sam does. Now, have you got a bag? No? All right, you can borrow one from me.’ She brings a string bag out from under the counter, starts to pack up my goods. ‘Long as I get it back. Don’t know if you’d fancy it, but I’ve got a little jar of fish paste you could have. It’s not on points.’

‘I’ll take it. Thank you. You’re very kind.’

‘Well, it’s a shame. Someone’s done a real fast one on you with that ration book. Never mind, we’ll get you straight next week.

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