the peaceful, natural landscape surrounding Greta filled her with unexpected pleasure. She dressed quickly, eager to go outside and explore. As she was walking down the narrow
staircase, there was a knock on the front door and she hurried to open it.
‘Morning. Just came to check that you’re settling in all right.’
‘Hello, LJ,’ said Greta self-consciously. ‘I’m fine, thank you. I’ve only just woken up.’
‘Good grief! I’ve been up since five nursing that blessed ewe. She
had
fallen over the gulley, and it took the men hours to coax her up. Looks as if she’ll make it,
though. Now, we need to have a chinwag about logistics whilst you’re staying here, so why don’t you come over to me tonight for a spot of supper?’ suggested LJ.
‘That would be lovely, but I don’t want to put you to any bother.’
‘No bother at all. To be honest, it’ll be nice to have a bit of female company.’
‘Do you live in that big house over there?’ enquired Greta.
‘Used to, dear girl, used to. But nowadays I live in the Gate Lodge by the main gate. Does me fine. Just turn right out of here and follow the path. A brisk walk of five minutes should do
it. There’s a hurricane lamp in the pantry. You’ll need it. Pitch bloody black around here, as you saw last night. Now, I must be off. See you at seven.’
‘Yes, I’ll look forward to it. Thank you.’
LJ smiled at Greta, then turned round and waved as she marched briskly down the path.
Greta spent the day settling into her new home. She unpacked her cases then went for a walk, following the sound of running water. After a while she found the stream and knelt
to take a drink of the clear, sparkling water. The air was bracing and bitterly cold, but the sun was shining and the leaves that had fallen from the many trees formed a natural carpet for her to
walk on. She arrived home weary, but with a hint of pink in each of her normally pale cheeks. She changed into her best skirt and jacket, looking forward to supper with LJ.
At five to seven Greta knocked on the door of the Gate Lodge. By the dim light of the moon, she could see it was a modest but handsome red-brick building whose gable-fronted
architecture echoed that of Marchmont Hall itself. The small front garden looked immaculate.
LJ opened the door a few seconds later. ‘Bang on time, I see. I like that. I’m a stickler for punctuality. Come in, my dear.’ She took the hurricane lamp Greta was carrying and
extinguished it before helping her off with her coat.
Greta then followed LJ through the hall and into a formal but reassuringly cluttered sitting room.
‘Sit down, dear girl. Drink?’
‘Yes, please. Anything soft, thank you.’
‘I’ll mix you a small gin. Do you and the baby no harm at all. Drank like a fish myself when I was carrying David, and look at the size of him! Won’t be a second.’
LJ left the room and Greta sat down on a chair by the fire. She glanced around the room and took in the mahogany dresser filled with expensive-looking china and the framed pictures depicting
lurid hunting scenes. It was obvious that the furniture in the room was valuable, but had seen better days.
‘There we go.’ LJ handed a large glass to Greta and sat down in the armchair opposite her. ‘Welcome to Marchmont, my dear. I hope that for the time you’re with us,
you’ll be very happy.’ LJ took a large gulp of her gin as Greta tentatively sipped her own.
‘Thank you. It’s so kind of you to have me here. I don’t know what I’d have done if it hadn’t been for your son,’ she murmured shyly.
‘He always was a soft touch for a damsel in distress.’
‘Taffy’s doing awfully well at the Windmill, too,’ Greta said. ‘Mr Van Damm has just given him a regular slot. His routine is very funny. All us girls fall about when we
listen to it.’
‘Yes, well, could I ask one favour? While you’re here, please could you try to remember to call my son by his proper Christian
staircase, there was a knock on the front door and she hurried to open it.
‘Morning. Just came to check that you’re settling in all right.’
‘Hello, LJ,’ said Greta self-consciously. ‘I’m fine, thank you. I’ve only just woken up.’
‘Good grief! I’ve been up since five nursing that blessed ewe. She
had
fallen over the gulley, and it took the men hours to coax her up. Looks as if she’ll make it,
though. Now, we need to have a chinwag about logistics whilst you’re staying here, so why don’t you come over to me tonight for a spot of supper?’ suggested LJ.
‘That would be lovely, but I don’t want to put you to any bother.’
‘No bother at all. To be honest, it’ll be nice to have a bit of female company.’
‘Do you live in that big house over there?’ enquired Greta.
‘Used to, dear girl, used to. But nowadays I live in the Gate Lodge by the main gate. Does me fine. Just turn right out of here and follow the path. A brisk walk of five minutes should do
it. There’s a hurricane lamp in the pantry. You’ll need it. Pitch bloody black around here, as you saw last night. Now, I must be off. See you at seven.’
‘Yes, I’ll look forward to it. Thank you.’
LJ smiled at Greta, then turned round and waved as she marched briskly down the path.
Greta spent the day settling into her new home. She unpacked her cases then went for a walk, following the sound of running water. After a while she found the stream and knelt
to take a drink of the clear, sparkling water. The air was bracing and bitterly cold, but the sun was shining and the leaves that had fallen from the many trees formed a natural carpet for her to
walk on. She arrived home weary, but with a hint of pink in each of her normally pale cheeks. She changed into her best skirt and jacket, looking forward to supper with LJ.
At five to seven Greta knocked on the door of the Gate Lodge. By the dim light of the moon, she could see it was a modest but handsome red-brick building whose gable-fronted
architecture echoed that of Marchmont Hall itself. The small front garden looked immaculate.
LJ opened the door a few seconds later. ‘Bang on time, I see. I like that. I’m a stickler for punctuality. Come in, my dear.’ She took the hurricane lamp Greta was carrying and
extinguished it before helping her off with her coat.
Greta then followed LJ through the hall and into a formal but reassuringly cluttered sitting room.
‘Sit down, dear girl. Drink?’
‘Yes, please. Anything soft, thank you.’
‘I’ll mix you a small gin. Do you and the baby no harm at all. Drank like a fish myself when I was carrying David, and look at the size of him! Won’t be a second.’
LJ left the room and Greta sat down on a chair by the fire. She glanced around the room and took in the mahogany dresser filled with expensive-looking china and the framed pictures depicting
lurid hunting scenes. It was obvious that the furniture in the room was valuable, but had seen better days.
‘There we go.’ LJ handed a large glass to Greta and sat down in the armchair opposite her. ‘Welcome to Marchmont, my dear. I hope that for the time you’re with us,
you’ll be very happy.’ LJ took a large gulp of her gin as Greta tentatively sipped her own.
‘Thank you. It’s so kind of you to have me here. I don’t know what I’d have done if it hadn’t been for your son,’ she murmured shyly.
‘He always was a soft touch for a damsel in distress.’
‘Taffy’s doing awfully well at the Windmill, too,’ Greta said. ‘Mr Van Damm has just given him a regular slot. His routine is very funny. All us girls fall about when we
listen to it.’
‘Yes, well, could I ask one favour? While you’re here, please could you try to remember to call my son by his proper Christian
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