That Would Be a Fairy Tale - By Amanda Grange Page 0,54

had originally moved for the good of his health. It had been a wise idea, and had worked well for a time, as his health had shown a distinct improvement, but unfortunately he had then succumbed to a bad bout of pneumonia and had sadly died. His wife and daughter, however, had continued to live in Marienbad, where they had made many friends.

‘Have I changed since you saw me last?’ asked Sophie, as the three of them went out of the station and hailed a taxi.

‘Completely. You were a girl when I saw you last. Now you’re a young woman.’

Sophie was pleased to hear this, and together the three of them climbed into the taxi. Once Cicely’s luggage had been loaded they drove through the pine forests to the villa, which was on the outskirts of the town. It was a large house, with a long veranda running along the front. Pleasant gardens surrounded it, and beyond them lay the forest.

‘You will want to refresh yourself,’ said her aunt, as she showed Cicely up to her room. ‘Come down when you are ready. You know the way.’

Cicely nodded: the villa was almost as familiar to her as the Manor house or the Lodge.

Once her aunt had gone she threw open the window of her bedroom and breathed in deeply, savouring the delicious scent of pine. She looked out over the tree-clad slopes and down onto the town in order to reacquaint herself with her surroundings. She could make out the Kirchenplatz, the famous square in which the Hotel Weimar stood, and by standing on tiptoe she could just see the hotel itself. Being late August, she knew the King would be in residence, and she imagined him in his personal suite, reading his newspaper or taking a glass of the health-giving waters for which the town was famous. It was strange to think of being so close to her King. She might even see him, if she was lucky, on one of his frequent strolls.

Turning away from the window she washed and changed. She put on a long mauve skirt and a lace-trimmed blouse that her aunt’s maid had by now unpacked, then she went downstairs. Her aunt and cousin were there, reading the newspaper.

‘Good. You’re here. I’ll ring for coffee,’ said Mrs Lessing. She paused before pulling the bell. ‘That is, if you wouldn’t rather have tea? Though I wouldn’t if I were you, it is no better than the last time you were here. The water simply doesn’t seem to make good tea. But it makes delicious coffee.’

‘Yes, coffee, thank you,’ said Cicely.

The servants were efficient, and before long a silver coffee pot was set before Mrs Lessing, complete with sugar and cream. Mrs Lessing poured, and Cicely sipped it thankfully. After her journey, she was in need of something sweet and hot.

‘It was good of you to have me, aunt. Especially at such notice,’ she said as she embarked on her second cup of coffee.

‘Nonsense. We are delighted to have you. You have livened up our summer. We are very quiet as a rule, and it is good to have a little excitement from time to time.’

‘I can’t wait to hear all about it,’ said Sophie. ‘Your letter was very mysterious. Why do you need my help? Though I am very glad you do, it will be so nice to be useful for a change. Life here is very pleasant, but it is very dull. What is it exactly that you want me to do?’

‘Let Cicely finish her coffee in peace!’ Mrs Lessing remonstrated with her daughter.

Sophie pulled a face but said, ‘Very well.’ She turned to Cicely. ‘But as soon as you have finished I want to know all about it.’

‘And you will, I promise,’ said Cicely, as she put down her cup.

‘But not until you have had a hot meal,’ said Mrs Lessing to Cicely. ‘You have had a long journey and you look tired, my dear.’

Cicely felt that it was true, she did not have the energy to explain everything just at present.

‘But I can tell you something,’ she said to Sophie. ‘There has been a robbery at the Manor.’

‘A robbery?’ asked Sophie, alert.

‘Nothing of value, I hope?’ asked Mrs Lessing with a frown.

‘No. In fact, the robbery was foiled. But it could have been very serious.’ Cicely explained about the attempt to steal Miss Postlethwaite’s necklace.

‘That is very unfortunate,’ said Mrs Lessing, ‘but quite frankly, Cicely, I don’t see what it has to