she could cry and wail as much as she needed without being made to feel she was being pathetic. She still did not want to move into the house that she and Neil had rented together, but as matters stood it seemed she had no choice until an alternative presented itself. Tomorrow, when she felt a little better, she would write a letter to him, telling him what she planned to do and that she would sort out the change of tenancy with the agents. As for the furniture and other items they had collected together, albeit mostly through presents from his relatives, hopefully he would donate it all to her as he had been the one to call their wedding off. Thinking of him, she felt a fresh flood of tears threaten and took several deep breaths to fight them away, knowing if she did allow them to flow she would only irritate her mother further and receive more unsympathetic words from her, and she’d had enough already.
She asked, ‘How long will you and Father be away?’
Nerys looked at her blankly. ‘For as long as we need to be.’
‘But . . . but what about me, Mother?’
She arched an eyebrow. ‘What about you?’
‘Well, if you and Father aren’t here, that will mean I’ll be spending Christmas and my birthday on my own.’
Nerys eyed her sharply. ‘How selfish you are to be thinking of yourself when your father’s health is at risk.’ There was a knock on the front door. ‘That’ll be the taxi. Dalby!’ she called sharply. An elderly woman wearing a working dress with a faded wraparound apron over the top, her iron-grey hair cut in a short bob and secured behind her ears with kirby grips, came scurrying out of the kitchen. Nerys instructed her, ‘Answer the door to the driver and inform him we won’t be a moment, then take the luggage out for him to load.’ As the older woman hurried to obey her orders, Nerys told her daughter, ‘Go and tell your father that the taxi is here. He’s in our bedroom. And don’t let the taxi driver see you still dressed like this at this time in the morning.’
Cait turned and ran back up the stairs, out of eyeshot of anyone standing at the front door. She called down to her mother, ‘How do I contact you while you’re away?’
‘You won’t be able to. We’re going on a tour of the Middle East and will be moving around a lot. Now, I asked you to fetch your father.’
Her sense of loneliness mounted as she went off to do her mother’s bidding. Arriving outside her parents’ bedroom door, she raised her hand to rap on it just as her father opened it and came out, dressed for travel in a camel cashmere heavy coat over a smart grey wool suit, handmade shoes on his feet, obviously having heard the taxi arrive. He greeted Cait, in his thin weedy voice, with, ‘Bring my travel bag down.’
She picked it up and followed him back down the stairs. As she handed it to him in the hallway, she said, ‘I hope you have a nice time on your holiday, Father.’
‘I’m sure I shall,’ he responded shortly as he turned and headed out of the door.
Her mother meanwhile had disappeared into the living room and Cait heard the sound of the key turning in the writing bureau, informing her that Nerys had collected something from inside it. She returned to the hall just as Agnes Dalby came puffing back in after several trips conveying the luggage to the taxi driver to stow away.
Nerys held out a brown envelope towards her employee. ‘This is your pay to date. I shall contact you when we get back so that you may resume your duties.’
The older woman looked at the envelope, befuddled for a moment, before she fixed quizzical eyes on her employer and said, ‘Er . . . you’re laying me off while you’re away then, Mrs Thomas?’
Nerys gave a snort of derision. ‘I’m sure you don’t expect me to pay you for sitting around doing nothing.’
With that she turned and walked out of the front door, leaving her daughter and employee staring blankly after her.
A minute or so later, Agnes Dalby was sitting at the worn pine table, sipping on a cup of hot strong tea. She was inwardly seething. Mrs Thomas was well aware that the wage she paid her, which could hardly be classed as generous, was