eyes this morning . . .
She opened her palm and breathed in the smell of the handkerchief she was clutching – and the scent of him within it.
Cecily, you sure are being ridiculous! For a start, you know nothing about him, and apart from recovering from a broken heart, you’re off to Africa in five days’ time and will never see him again, she told herself firmly as she replaced the handkerchief in her bedside drawer. Tonight you will have a tray in your room and you will not give him a second thought . . .
Eventually, she dozed off and awoke to a dimming sky, heralding the arrival of night. Doris appeared with yet more tea.
‘If you’re not feeling quite right, can I suggest you don’t take a bath tonight?’ she added. ‘It’s bleedin’ freezing in there. What time would you like your tray? I’d say seven o’clock, so as it gives you time for the food to digest,’ Doris chattered on as she re-stoked the fire.
‘I’m sure that will all be just fine, thank you.’
‘Well, it’s me night off, see, so Ellen the parlour maid will be seeing to you after that. Just ring the bell if you need ’er.’
‘I will. So, there’s no one here for dinner tonight?’ Cecily probed.
‘Not that I know of, miss. Mister Julius comes and goes as he pleases, so I couldn’t be sure of him.’ Doris echoed Audrey’s words from earlier.
‘Is there much to do around here? I mean, is there a town close by?’
‘Yeah, though I’m not sure I’d call it a town. Haslemere has shops and the flicks, which is where me and Betty are off to tonight. We’re seeing The Adventures of Robin Hood with Errol Flynn. Now, if you don’t need anything else, I’ll tell Ellen to fetch up your supper at seven.’
‘Have a nice evening, Doris.’
‘Oh, I will, miss, and you get better soon.’
Once Doris had left, Cecily took The Great Gatsby – which, with her head being everywhere these past few weeks, she had still not managed to finish – and sat down to read by the fire. She would not think about Julius somewhere close by in the house, she would not . . .
At seven o’clock prompt, there was a knock on her door and Ellen appeared with the promised tray. There was more soup, a boiled egg and thin slices of buttered bread. Even if she’d had an appetite, the food looked uninviting. She tapped the egg suspiciously. It felt as solid as a rock. She was just taking a mouthful of lukewarm soup when there was another knock at her door. Before she could say enter, it was opened.
‘Good evening, Cecily. I heard you were eating in your room and as I was about to do the same, I thought we should join forces to moan about Cook’s lack of prowess in the kitchen.’
And there was Julius, holding a tray identical to hers.
‘Do you mind awfully if I join you?’
‘I . . . no, of course not.’
‘Good-oh,’ he said as he placed his tray on the small table in front of the fire and sat down opposite her. ‘Now then, having heard you have a chill and seeing as our supper is almost certainly inedible, I’ve brought a little something to warm the cockles of our hearts.’
With that, Julius produced a bottle of what looked like bourbon from one pocket and a tooth mug from the other.
‘We’ll have to share, but life’s all about improvisation, isn’t it?’ he smiled at her as he poured a hefty amount of liquor into the mug before offering it to her. ‘Ladies first. For medicinal purposes only, of course.’
‘Really, I—’
‘Right, I’ll go first then,’ he said, then took a deep gulp. ‘Ah, that’s better. Nothing like a dash of whisky to keep out the cold.’
Cecily’s heart was fluttering all over the place and she needed something to calm her. ‘Maybe a small sip won’t do me any harm.’
‘No, it won’t, and a larger one may actually do you good,’ Julius encouraged her as she tipped the mug tentatively between her lips.
‘Right, now for the egg,’ he said. Cecily watched him take his teaspoon, tap the top thoroughly, then slice it off with a knife. ‘Hardboiled as always,’ he sighed. ‘I have spoken to my aunt about the standard of fare in the house and the dubious qualifications of the woman who provides it, but it seems to fall on deaf ears.’ He sat back in his