was in her own room sorting and writing seriously. She felt useful. Even though it was to be a secret from Michael, this help she was giving to Maggie was almost like helping Michael. Maggie, asleep in the next room, was much the same as if Michael were lying down there, having an afternoon sleep.
‘Q. Vict,’ she wrote, ‘½ SOV . 1842.’
She grasped quickly that there were no numismatic rarities; the value of the coins was largely commercial. At that, they added up to a considerable amount. They were mostly English half-sovereigns, early and late “Victorian, bearing the Queen’s young head and her older head. Mary found a sovereign of the reign of George IV and, realizing its extra value, wondered if Maggie had put it in by mistake. She put the coin aside, then, on the thought that Maggie might think her critical or stingy, put it back in the box and marked it on her list. The main idea was to please Maggie and show she understood her position. Maggie, after all, was being very delicate in her treatment of Hubert. Mary began to consider various means of conveying this treasure to him without betraying its origin. When she realized how impossible it would be for her to simply drive or walk over to the house herself and hand it over to him, she felt a waif-like longing to do so; she saw herself for a brief moment as an outcast from what appeared to her as a world of humour and sophistication which Hubert had brought with him during those few months she had known him, when he was still in Maggie’s good favour. At the same time she disapproved of him as a proposition in Maggie’s life. He really had no right to this golden fortune. Her mood swivelled and she imagined with satisfaction a dramatic little scene of handsome Hubert being thrown out of Maggie’s house by the police.
Her list was complete. She closed the box and stood up. From the window she caught sight of a shining black head in the greenery below. She recognized Lauro and at the same time the idea came to her that, obviously, Lauro would be the person to carry this box to Hubert. She was convinced of his discretion and, after all, he had worked for Hubert once.
Mary went immediately to Maggie’s room clutching the box. Maggie was still asleep. Her mouth was open and she slept noisily. The girl felt guilty, watching this uncomely sleep. Maggie, if wakened, would know she had been watched. Mary retreated, deciding to act on her own and rightly perceiving how gratified Maggie would be to wake up and find her plan accomplished; she would feel free in her heart and mind to turn Hubert out and give him hell and know that at least he wasn’t starving. Mary was already on her way to meet Lauro, leaving the house by the back door. His white coat was hanging on the back of a kitchen chair. Mary swung down the hot winding path with her long brown legs and sandals and, seeing Lauro’s black head once more below her, called to him, ‘Lauro!’
He stopped and waited. She found him sitting down in the shade of the woods just off the path. ‘Lauro,’ she said, ‘I’ve got something important to ask you. I want you to do something.’
She expected him to stand up immediately she approached but he let a moment pass before doing so. He was smiling as if he enjoyed the lonely scene, and as if the woods belonged to him. She felt strangely awkward as she had not been before when she had been alone with him in the house or in the car, or walking with him to the shops in the village street.
She spoke rapidly, as if giving some domestic instructions while her free mind, as it might be, was on something weightier. ‘You have to keep a secret, Lauro,’ she said. ‘I have something here for Mr Mallindaine but he must not be told who sent it.’
‘Okay,’ said Lauro.
‘I want you to take this box to Mr Mallindaine’s house. He mustn’t see you as he mustn’t know where the box has come from. Find some way of leaving it where he’s sure to find it. Do you
‘Q. Vict,’ she wrote, ‘½ SOV . 1842.’
She grasped quickly that there were no numismatic rarities; the value of the coins was largely commercial. At that, they added up to a considerable amount. They were mostly English half-sovereigns, early and late “Victorian, bearing the Queen’s young head and her older head. Mary found a sovereign of the reign of George IV and, realizing its extra value, wondered if Maggie had put it in by mistake. She put the coin aside, then, on the thought that Maggie might think her critical or stingy, put it back in the box and marked it on her list. The main idea was to please Maggie and show she understood her position. Maggie, after all, was being very delicate in her treatment of Hubert. Mary began to consider various means of conveying this treasure to him without betraying its origin. When she realized how impossible it would be for her to simply drive or walk over to the house herself and hand it over to him, she felt a waif-like longing to do so; she saw herself for a brief moment as an outcast from what appeared to her as a world of humour and sophistication which Hubert had brought with him during those few months she had known him, when he was still in Maggie’s good favour. At the same time she disapproved of him as a proposition in Maggie’s life. He really had no right to this golden fortune. Her mood swivelled and she imagined with satisfaction a dramatic little scene of handsome Hubert being thrown out of Maggie’s house by the police.
Her list was complete. She closed the box and stood up. From the window she caught sight of a shining black head in the greenery below. She recognized Lauro and at the same time the idea came to her that, obviously, Lauro would be the person to carry this box to Hubert. She was convinced of his discretion and, after all, he had worked for Hubert once.
Mary went immediately to Maggie’s room clutching the box. Maggie was still asleep. Her mouth was open and she slept noisily. The girl felt guilty, watching this uncomely sleep. Maggie, if wakened, would know she had been watched. Mary retreated, deciding to act on her own and rightly perceiving how gratified Maggie would be to wake up and find her plan accomplished; she would feel free in her heart and mind to turn Hubert out and give him hell and know that at least he wasn’t starving. Mary was already on her way to meet Lauro, leaving the house by the back door. His white coat was hanging on the back of a kitchen chair. Mary swung down the hot winding path with her long brown legs and sandals and, seeing Lauro’s black head once more below her, called to him, ‘Lauro!’
He stopped and waited. She found him sitting down in the shade of the woods just off the path. ‘Lauro,’ she said, ‘I’ve got something important to ask you. I want you to do something.’
She expected him to stand up immediately she approached but he let a moment pass before doing so. He was smiling as if he enjoyed the lonely scene, and as if the woods belonged to him. She felt strangely awkward as she had not been before when she had been alone with him in the house or in the car, or walking with him to the shops in the village street.
She spoke rapidly, as if giving some domestic instructions while her free mind, as it might be, was on something weightier. ‘You have to keep a secret, Lauro,’ she said. ‘I have something here for Mr Mallindaine but he must not be told who sent it.’
‘Okay,’ said Lauro.
‘I want you to take this box to Mr Mallindaine’s house. He mustn’t see you as he mustn’t know where the box has come from. Find some way of leaving it where he’s sure to find it. Do you
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