Goodnight Lady by Martina Cole Read Free Book Online

cuppa, and what about some bread pudding for you girls, with a nice cup of weak tea, eh?’
    She put out a hand, and to the astonishment of Molly, Rosalee wriggled from Eileen’s arms and, taking the old woman’s hand, she went into the cottage with her.
    The man grinned.
    ‘I’m Abel Jones and that’s me mother. We all call her Mother Jones, me and everyone else that knows her. Now get yourselves in out of the cold and I’ll get the furniture in for you.’
    Molly smiled at him and followed her eager daughters.
    Abel looked at her as she went through the door and smiled to himself. Not a bad-looking piece that. He wondered if there was a husband in tow. Must be to afford the rent on the cottage, but you never knew, Abel told himself. She might be free for a bit of a laugh.
    He picked up the heavy wood table as if it was made of paper and walked into the cottage with it.
     
    Briony had been living her new life for three weeks and she loved it. Well, she liked most of it, she told herself. The things that she had to do for Mr Dumas got on her nerves a bit, but she was getting to like living at the house and that was all that really concerned her. She put on a brown dress with a tiny lace collar, her walking boots and her large brown cape. Lastly she put on a straw hat with dried flowers that was totally unsuited to the weather, but she was so enamoured of it she didn’t care. She walked down the stairs and went through the green baize door to Mrs Horlock and Cissy.
    ‘Get us a cab, Cis.’ Briony’s voice was clear and loud in the kitchen and Mrs Horlock smothered a smile. She was a case, was this one. Not five minutes in the house and already she acted like she was born to it. If she used the toilet once a day she used it fifty times, though the novelty of the bathroom was wearing off now and she was down to only two baths a day. But Mrs Horlock was clever enough to let the child have her head, let her get used to her surroundings. If she was happy, Mr Dumas was happy and at the end of the day, that was what counted.
    ‘You’re going to your mum’s then, Miss?’
    ‘Yes, Mrs Horlock, I am. Don’t worry, I’ll tell the cab to come back for me at five. I’ll be home in plenty of time for Mr Dumas and me dinner.’
    ‘Shall I go with her, Mrs Horlock?’ Cissy’s face was expressionless but the hope behind it was evident.
    ‘No you won’t, Cissy. All the work I’ve got here today! Now go and get Miss Briony her cab. And hurry up!’
    Cissy ran from the kitchen.
    ‘I’ve made you up a hamper for your mum. She’ll need it today.’
    Briony grinned at the old woman. She looked stern at times, and she could be sharp, but underneath Briony liked her. She cuddled Briony sometimes of an evening when Mr Dumas went home to his real house. Briony would come out here, to the kitchen and Mrs Horlock would settle her on her lap, tell her stories and feed her hot milk and bread and butter while Cissy was ironing or baking. All under Mrs Horlock’s astute gaze, of course. The kitchen fire would be roaring. up the chimney and the smell of spices and baking was very welcoming to Briony. The warmth and the good smells made her feel secure.
    Briony opened the lid of the hamper and saw two small malt loaves, that would be full of the raisins that Rosalee loved. A small ham and a large lump of cheese. There were also some home-made scones and a jar of strawberry jam.
    ‘Thanks, Mrs Horlock, she’ll be very grateful to you.’
    The woman waved her hand at Briony. ‘’Tis nothing. There’s a screw of tea on the table to go in and some sugar and butter.’
    Briony put these in the hamper and then went to the housekeeper and hugged her, pushing her face, straw hat and all, into the floury-smelling apron. Mrs Horlock looked down on the flame-coloured hair that spiralled out under the hat and felt a rush of affection for the child. She hugged her back.
     
    Mother Jones was ensconced by her fire with Rosalee on her lap. She