for the moment.
Aunt Phyllis laughed. "You won't be able to eat all those. You'll be sick."
"And don't forget there'll be the cake," Grace put in. She glanced at me, smiling, but I couldn't meet her eyes. What if she saw the truth in mine?
"But there'll be so many people," said Maud. "And it's very
grand
to have a choice."
She put her nose in the air as she said this, and everyone laughed. I joined in but I didn't feel like laughing.
Without warning the door opened and Susan burst in. Her cap was awry and her face was flushed.
"What is it, Susan?" said Aunt Phyllis, with unusual sharpness.
"Oh, Ma'am. It's a telegram. For Miss Louisa."
For a second no one moved or spoke. Then I seized the yellow envelope and with trembling fingers drew out the thin sheet of paper. As I read it, I felt the colour drain from my face.
"What's happened, Lou?" Grace was watching me with concern.
I stood up. "I have to go home immediately. Papa is ill."
There was a general exclamation.
"May I?" Taking the telegram from my hand, Aunt Phyllis scanned it. "Your mother doesn't say what is wrong." She gave me a lopsided smile. "Perhaps it's not so serious. You know your mother."
"Yes. But I must go. I must see how he is."
She nodded. "Of course. Whatever it is, he'll feel better for the sight of you. The maid will pack your things and I'll order the carriage."
***
I left in a confusion of goodbyes. At the last minute Grace thrust something through the carriage window. It was the sketch she'd made of me. "If Uncle Edward is all right, you'll come back again, won't you?"
Her beautiful face was creased with concern and I wanted to jump out of the carriage and bury myself in her arms. But I was also frantic to get home.
We set off. I sat staring at the sketch, but I didn't see it. Was Papa seriously ill? Had Mamma sent for Tom too? Or perhaps she was mistaken and it was a false alarm. Oh, if only it was and I could go back to Carr Head...
In time with the rhythm of the rolling wheels, my mind spun between two desperate poles: Grace, Papa, Grace, Papa.
***
The journey had never seemed so long. We had to stop to change horses, but I wouldn't go into the inn, I didn't want to waste a minute. And I couldn't eat. The coachman stood in the yard to have a bite of bread and a few mouthfuls of ale, then we sped on again.
When I reached home, Mamma met me at the door. She looked pale and the lines on her face were deeper.
"Where's Papa?"
"He's just gone upstairs to fetch something."
I stared at her. "He's not in bed then?"
She shook her head. "He says it's nothing. Just a bilious attack."
"You sent a telegram for a bilious attack!" My voice echoed in the empty space of the hall. I wanted to shake her for dragging me away from Grace, frightening me for nothing.
Mamma sat down on the hall chair as if she was tired. "I'm so worried about him."
"But why? What's the matter?"
Before she could explain Papa appeared on the landing. "Lou? What are you doing home?"
He started down the stairs but I ran up and met him halfway. I hugged him round the waist. Under his jacket, I could hear his heart, a steady, reassuring beat.
He smiled down at me. "I didn't expect you for another week."
"I couldn't stand any more fussing and furbelows." Angry as I was with Mamma, I didn't want to tell Papa about the telegram. That he was at home in the afternoon was unheard of. Perhaps Mamma had good reason to send it.
To change the subject I said, "Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"I'm only feeling a little unwell. And I have been taking things easy."
I shook my head. "You should be lying down. That's what you would tell your patients."
He laughed. "Doctors make the worst patients. It's well known."
"And what are your symptoms?"
He ticked them off on his fingers. "A headache, a touch of diarrhoea, and I don't care for my pipe. Oh, and a disinclination to work. It's probably something I ate." He smiled. "You know how the ladies like to spoil me. It was probably Mrs.
Aunt Phyllis laughed. "You won't be able to eat all those. You'll be sick."
"And don't forget there'll be the cake," Grace put in. She glanced at me, smiling, but I couldn't meet her eyes. What if she saw the truth in mine?
"But there'll be so many people," said Maud. "And it's very
grand
to have a choice."
She put her nose in the air as she said this, and everyone laughed. I joined in but I didn't feel like laughing.
Without warning the door opened and Susan burst in. Her cap was awry and her face was flushed.
"What is it, Susan?" said Aunt Phyllis, with unusual sharpness.
"Oh, Ma'am. It's a telegram. For Miss Louisa."
For a second no one moved or spoke. Then I seized the yellow envelope and with trembling fingers drew out the thin sheet of paper. As I read it, I felt the colour drain from my face.
"What's happened, Lou?" Grace was watching me with concern.
I stood up. "I have to go home immediately. Papa is ill."
There was a general exclamation.
"May I?" Taking the telegram from my hand, Aunt Phyllis scanned it. "Your mother doesn't say what is wrong." She gave me a lopsided smile. "Perhaps it's not so serious. You know your mother."
"Yes. But I must go. I must see how he is."
She nodded. "Of course. Whatever it is, he'll feel better for the sight of you. The maid will pack your things and I'll order the carriage."
***
I left in a confusion of goodbyes. At the last minute Grace thrust something through the carriage window. It was the sketch she'd made of me. "If Uncle Edward is all right, you'll come back again, won't you?"
Her beautiful face was creased with concern and I wanted to jump out of the carriage and bury myself in her arms. But I was also frantic to get home.
We set off. I sat staring at the sketch, but I didn't see it. Was Papa seriously ill? Had Mamma sent for Tom too? Or perhaps she was mistaken and it was a false alarm. Oh, if only it was and I could go back to Carr Head...
In time with the rhythm of the rolling wheels, my mind spun between two desperate poles: Grace, Papa, Grace, Papa.
***
The journey had never seemed so long. We had to stop to change horses, but I wouldn't go into the inn, I didn't want to waste a minute. And I couldn't eat. The coachman stood in the yard to have a bite of bread and a few mouthfuls of ale, then we sped on again.
When I reached home, Mamma met me at the door. She looked pale and the lines on her face were deeper.
"Where's Papa?"
"He's just gone upstairs to fetch something."
I stared at her. "He's not in bed then?"
She shook her head. "He says it's nothing. Just a bilious attack."
"You sent a telegram for a bilious attack!" My voice echoed in the empty space of the hall. I wanted to shake her for dragging me away from Grace, frightening me for nothing.
Mamma sat down on the hall chair as if she was tired. "I'm so worried about him."
"But why? What's the matter?"
Before she could explain Papa appeared on the landing. "Lou? What are you doing home?"
He started down the stairs but I ran up and met him halfway. I hugged him round the waist. Under his jacket, I could hear his heart, a steady, reassuring beat.
He smiled down at me. "I didn't expect you for another week."
"I couldn't stand any more fussing and furbelows." Angry as I was with Mamma, I didn't want to tell Papa about the telegram. That he was at home in the afternoon was unheard of. Perhaps Mamma had good reason to send it.
To change the subject I said, "Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"I'm only feeling a little unwell. And I have been taking things easy."
I shook my head. "You should be lying down. That's what you would tell your patients."
He laughed. "Doctors make the worst patients. It's well known."
"And what are your symptoms?"
He ticked them off on his fingers. "A headache, a touch of diarrhoea, and I don't care for my pipe. Oh, and a disinclination to work. It's probably something I ate." He smiled. "You know how the ladies like to spoil me. It was probably Mrs.
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