Paws for Alarm by Marian Babson Read Free Book Online

voice. My children – they’re at boarding school – are supposed to ring this afternoon. About their holidays. I must be home to take the call.’
    â€˜That’s okay,’ I said. ‘Maybe another day.’ See what kind of reaction that brought.
    â€˜Oh, yes, of course. Some other day will be fine.’
    I didn’t believe a word of it. We nodded at each other and smiled falsely.
    â€˜And you must come round to me. ’ That sounded more genuine. ‘Let’s plan something definite soon.’
    â€˜Fine,’ Arnold said.
    Abruptly, Hazel’s face changed. We were negotiating a curve on the crest of a hill. She glanced out the window and shuddered.
    â€˜Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘Arnold is really a very good driver.’
    â€˜It isn’t that –’ She broke off, shook her head and made a hopeless gesture indicating that it was something she could never explain. Probably a touch of acrophobia.
    â€˜You’ll have to direct me from here,’ Arnold told her. ‘We don’t know our way yet.’
    â€˜Of course.’ She recovered smoothly and began giving directions crisply. We were really quite near and had pulled up in front of her house in next to no time.
    â€˜Thank you so much.’ She gathered up her multitudinous bags and parcels and got out quickly.
    â€˜Think nothing of it,’ Arnold said. ‘See you soon.’
    We were back at our place and putting our shopping away when I discovered the unfamiliar parcel. I didn’t remember buying anything of that shape and I unwrapped it curiously, half-suspecting that Arnold was trying to sneak some more cheese into the house.
    â€˜Oh, no!’ It was a pair of kidney lamb chops, obviously destined to be someone’s supper — Hazel’s  supper. She must have dropped them getting out of the car and the kids had found them on the floor and thought they were ours.
    â€˜Don’t worry about it.’ Arnold took them from me and rewrapped them. ‘I’ll run over and return them to her. It won’t take long.’
    As so often before, I had plenty of time to contemplate the difference between Arnold’s definition of time and my own. The twins had eaten and were settled in front of the upstairs television and Arnold still hadn’t returned.
    I was just beginning to lose my temper when the telephone rang. I flew to answer it. ‘You’d better have a damned good explanation!’ I snapped.
    â€˜Hello?’ It was a woman’s voice. ‘Is that you, Nancy? This is Lania. Is anything wrong?’
    â€˜Oh, no,’ I said. ‘I was just expecting Arnold. What is it?’
    â€˜I just wanted to remind you,’ she said, ‘that it’s your day for Mrs Thing tomorrow.’
    â€˜Mrs Thing? My day?’
    â€˜You do know, don’t you? Didn’t Rosemary tell you? I have Mrs Thing for two days a week and some of the other people around have her for one each. Rosemary – you – have her for one. If you want her, that is.’
    â€˜Let me get this straight –’ It sounded too good to be true. ‘You mean she comes and does all the housework for me?’
    â€˜Well, perhaps not all. You have to watch her, you know. They’ll all slack off if you give them the chance. And you pay her at the end of each day –’ She named a sum that sounded very reasonable to me. ‘In cash, of course – it’s all a fiddle with these people. But so long as you make it quite clear what you want done and supervise her, you ought to be all right. If you want her.’
    â€˜Oh, I want her!’ There was no doubt about that. One day a week sounded like heaven – I wouldn’t have to do much work myself at that rate. ‘The only thing is, I won’t be here tomorrow. We’re all going up to London with Arnold and I’m taking the twins to the Tower and Madame Tussaud’s