The Stranger Came by Frederic Lindsay Read Free Book Online

silence lengthened, Lucy felt her face crumple into a smile. Mrs Stewart responded and then returned to being puzzled. They avoided one another's eye. At last the girl appeared with the coffees carried on a tin tray with a motif of pink flowers. It was odd, Lucy thought, the things that caught one's attention.
    'I'm afraid they've both been milked – is that all right? Sure? She could fetch another.’
    The girl had hesitated, perhaps expecting to be introduced, but now as the cup was finally handed over Lucy heard the door click shut behind her.
    'Sugar, then?'
    'My husband nagged me until I stopped.’
    'I can imagine,' Mrs Stewart said, 'that it would be difficult to refuse the Professor once he had set his heart on something.’
    'Oh, it was quite long ago,' Lucy said vaguely.
    Mrs Stewart became busy setting the tray to one side. 'None of us take sugar, you see, and so when we have a visitor that's when sometimes we find we're out, completely out. Oh, but biscuits? We certainly have those!'
    Lucy shook her head. 'I was passing. I shouldn't be keeping you from your work.’
    'We have a break about now. In the afternoon. We get through the work all the same.’
    God! Lucy thought, I'm not criticising . By a kind of reflex, she wondered how efficient Mrs Stewart was.
    'I'm coming to the meeting on Wednesday, you see. And so I thought I would look in. Find my way, after such a long time.’
    'But Professor Ure will be coming?'
    She had heard that note in too many other voices to mistake it. She added Mrs Stewart to the number of Maitland's devotees.
    'Oh, it's not that he won't be there.’
    'But there's something which interests you?'
    Julian Chambers had asked the same question. As for rights, who had more right than she to be at a meeting of the Trust? She was the last surviving Rintoul. Whatever her reason, she had the right. 'Perhaps there's an agenda you could let me have?'
    'Professor Ure will have received one. They go out to let the Committee prepare.’
    'For myself. I'd like one for myself.’
    'Of course.’
    Lucy tried to take in the detail of the items. None of it meant much to her. There was no mention of Monty Norman or the plan to create a new appointment.
    'The yellow sheet is the agenda. The blue ones give background information on matters that will come up. We've found that helpful. The minutes of the previous meeting are on the white sheets. The paragraphs are numbered for ease of reference.’
    'I'll read it – read them all.’
    'I can give you the minutes of the meeting before the last one. Would you want those?'
    'No – please.’
    Mrs Stewart who had sketched an intention of getting up again settled back. 'The Professor has them all, of course. If there was anything.’
    'I shouldn't have time. These will keep me busy.’
    They sipped coffee and made some kind of conversation. When there was no more to say, or rather when the effort to fill that lack became too great, they ended it. Mrs Stewart walked her to the head of the stairs.
    Halfway down the flight, Lucy turned back. In the corridor of the Trust suite, she listened at the secretary's door for voices or laughter. There was the sound of a phone ringing and stopping almost at once as if it had been lifted. With a light hasty step, she went back to the first door and not giving herself time to think opened it and went inside.
    The girl was tidying the bundles of papers set out on the long table. She did not seem surprised to see Lucy.
    'Is it in here the meeting is to be held? Of the Committee, I mean.’
    The girl cross-hatched one bundle on to another. 'Yes. But all of this stuff will be cleared away by then.’
    'We'll sit at this table?' The girl didn't say anything, perhaps since the answer was obvious. 'Are there enough chairs?'
    'We bring them in from next door,' the girl said, smiling as if the question amused her. Methodically she went on arranging the bundles.
    'I'm interrupting.’
    'This is the old leaflet – telling about the