A Lesson in Secrets_ A Maisie Dobbs Novel - Jacqueline Winspear [95]
“But we needed the money.”
“We certainly did, and now look at us—getting on our feet again. It’s Alfie who worries me now, though. He’s doing so well in school—he’ll go to the university, if we can get the money.”
Maisie stepped back. She closed her eyes and framed words of introduction. It would be a difficult conversation, so she wanted just a moment or two to compose herself, to hold her hand to her heart so that she might speak from that place. There was fragility in this household, a lingering sickness that each member of the family worked hard to counter each day—Maisie could see it in the way they had clustered around a much-adored mother. But, of more urgency, Maisie knew she had found Rosemary Linden, for she still knelt alongside her mother, and was held in her arms. And there had been a greater recognition, as the children—now grown—brought the chair, then the blankets and writing materials. Maisie could see in her mind’s eye the photograph she had taken from the room in which Greville Liddicote had died. A woman surrounded by her children, the youngest on her outswung hip with the older ones close by, smiling into the camera. Except one, as Maisie now remembered. The eldest girl stood just behind her sister and brother, and she was frowning at the camera, or more likely at the man who was trying to capture that moment.
Chapter Fifteen
The woman and her daughter did not see Maisie at first. Her approach was partly hidden by the sweet peas, their multicolored pastel blooms bobbing in a warm breeze, while white cumulus clouds seemed to linger above, before moving on to cast a shadow across another garden. Soon she was close enough to offer a greeting, but wanted to do so in a manner that gave the daughter time to gather her thoughts.
“Hello there, Alice—at last I’ve found you!” Maisie smiled at the young woman she had known as Rosemary Linden, who now stood before her in a sensible brown cotton skirt and a white blouse with a lace-edged sailor collar. She wore sturdy lace-up shoes on her feet, and an apron over the skirt. She gasped when she first saw Maisie standing before her. Yet it seemed that Maisie’s open smile had indeed helped Alice collect herself, for she smiled in return, and her reply was composed.
“Miss Dobbs—Maisie—how lovely to see you here.” She turned to her mother, and though her color heightened the second she called Maisie by her Christian name, she was quick with a story to mask the truth. “Mother, I met Miss Maisie Dobbs while I was working in Cambridge; we were both members of a readers’ club.”
“Mrs. Thurlow, I am so pleased to meet you. I was in Ipswich seeing a friend, and I thought I would take a jaunt out here to see Alice. We quite miss her opinion on the latest books.”
“Please, do call me Ursula. Any friend of my children is welcome to our house at any time—especially lovers of literature. One always has riches when one has a book to read.” She turned to her daughter. “Alice, go and get Alfie to bring a couple of chairs out, so we can sit together, and tell Amber to bring another cup. Then I am sure you and Maisie have things to talk about.”
Alice went into the cottage and soon the younger boy brought the chairs, one held in each hand, bumping the door frame as he came out.
“Careful, Alfie, I think I’ve already taken a chip or two out of that wood with my head this morning!”
The boy was on the cusp of manhood, with a fluff of beard almost ready for the razor, and a way of walking as if he had grown too fast for his limbs to take account of themselves. He set down chairs for both his sister and her guest, and informed his mother that Amber had put the kettle on for