The Fortunes of Francesca. Betty Neels

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      ‘Yes, two.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I had better go shortly. I’m dining out afterwards.’

      Lady Trumper had gone to the writing desk under the window and picked up a pen. ‘When will you be going home?’

      ‘In several weeks. I’ve patients still to see and a number of theatre lists here. I have to go to Leeds and Manchester before I go back.’

      ‘You work too hard. Isn’t it time you settled down? Your dear sister mentioned someone… She hoped that you were thinking of marrying…’

      ‘I’m afraid she must hope!’ He smiled, but something in his voice stopped her from saying more. She wrote the note and handed it to him.

      ‘Come and see me when you have time,’ she begged him. ‘At least let me know when you are going back to Holland.’

      He bent to kiss her. ‘Of course. Take care of yourself.’

      Barker was waiting for him in the hall. ‘Don’t allow Elsie to do any work at all for several days, Barker, and see that when she does start again she keeps that arm covered. A fortunate thing that she was given such prompt first aid.’ At the door he paused. ‘By the way, Lady Trumper has had second thoughts and will probably engage the young woman on a trial basis.’

      ‘We shall do our best to welcome her into the household, sir,’ said Barker pompously. He added, looking almost human, ‘She behaved in a most efficient manner and made no fuss.’

      The professor, his mind on other matters, nodded in an absent-minded way and bade him goodnight.

      Franny got off the crowded bus and turned into a side street that was badly lighted, with small terraced houses facing each other behind narrow strips of worn-out grass and battered iron railings. The houses might be small, and had seen better days, but most of them were keeping up appearances with curtained windows and cared-for front doors. Halfway down the terrace Franny opened one such door and called out as she shut it behind her. ‘It’s me—sorry I’m late.’

      She hung her outdoor things in the narrow hall and went into the kitchen; it was a small, rather dark room, lacking the amenities often portrayed in magazines, but it was cheerful, with bright curtains and an old-fashioned red plush cloth on the table. There was a young man sitting there, books spread in front of him, writing. He said ‘Hi,’ as she went in but didn’t look up. The elderly lady standing by the gas stove turned round to smile at her.

      ‘What kept you, love? Would you like a cup of tea? Supper won’t be for half an hour. How did you get on?’

      Franny filled the kettle and put it on the gas burner.

      ‘No good, Auntie, I wasn’t suitable. It was a lovely house and there was a butler. While I was there one of the maids cut her arm quite badly so I stopped to give first aid, and when a doctor came he asked me to go to the hospital with the girl. So I did.’

      ‘I hope that they thanked you…’

      ‘Well, now I come to think of it, they didn’t. The doctor was polite, but I think he took me for one of the servants.’

      Mrs Blake looked indignant. ‘Did he, indeed? What happened at the hospital?’

      ‘Well, nothing. I mean, I didn’t go in. I waited a bit but no one came out, so I caught a bus and came home.’

      ‘Disgraceful. The ingratitude…’ Mrs Blake, a small, plump lady with a mild face and grey hair, was ever more indignant.

      ‘Well, it doesn’t matter,’ said Franny cheerfully. ‘As we passed the supermarket in the bus I saw a notice in the window asking for check-out girls. I’ll go tomorrow.’

      Mrs Blake started to speak, and stopped. The gas bill had come that morning, Finlay needed more books and the rent was due. The housekeeping money was at a very low ebb and the only solution was for Franny to get a job as soon as possible.

      Mrs Blake was unhappy about that. They had just about managed while Franny had been training as a nurse; her salary and Mrs Blake’s pension had kept them going. They had even been saving a tiny bit, knowing that Finn would be going to medical school when he had done so well in his A levels. He would need books and clothes and money to live on.

      Then she had fallen ill. Franny had left the hospital in order to nurse her and look after the house, and their savings had gradually been eroded. Finn had now already started at medical school; there had been no question of him giving it up. He had offered to do so, and a job, any job he could get, would tide them over for a year or so, but that would have meant a year’s training lost. Neither Franny nor her aunt would hear of it. They would manage, Franny had said stoutly, and, once Finn was a qualified doctor, she and auntie would become ladies of leisure. ‘What is a paltry four or five years?’ Franny had demanded largely.

      Now they had a cheerful supper, and she took care not to mention the supermarket again. She was up early the next morning, nipping round the house, getting Finn’s breakfast, taking tea up to her aunt, tidying the place, intent on getting down to the supermarket as soon as possible and getting a job.

      She took her aunt’s breakfast tray upstairs as usual, mindful of the doctor’s advice that Mrs Blake should lead as quiet a life as possible. Having breakfast in bed was one way of doing that. Then she went to her room to get her outdoor things. She was in the hall, her hand on the door handle, when the postman pushed a letter through the letter box.

      It was for her, and she opened it slowly. It didn’t look like a bill—the writing was old-fashioned and spidery and the envelope was good quality…

      Lady Trumper’s request that she should call that morning with a view to taking up the post of girl Friday came as something of a shock. The wages she offered were even more of a shock. She would no doubt be expected to earn every penny of them, but Franny had reached the stage where she was open to any honest offer. She didn’t think working for Lady Trumper would be pleasant, but the money was more important than job satisfaction. Finn could have his books and the bills could be paid.

      Franny wasted a few minutes wondering why Lady Trumper had changed her mind and then went to tell her aunt.

      Aunt Emma read the letter. ‘Now, why would she change her mind?’ she asked. ‘Would it be because you gave the girl first aid?’

      ‘That wasn’t much qualification for the job, Auntie. More likely no one else has applied and she’s desperate.’

      ‘You may be right, love. You’ll go?’

      ‘Well, yes. The money is more than we hoped for, isn’t it?’

      ‘If only you could go back to hospital and finish your training…’

      ‘I’ll do that when Finn is qualified. We’re managing very well, and if I went back to hospital now I’d be worrying about you all the time. The doctor said you weren’t to do more than potter, and with this job I’ll have plenty of time to see to the house and so on. In a month or two we’ll have the bills paid and be on our feet again. What shall I wear?’

      ‘What you wore yesterday. You looked very nice. It’s raining, isn’t it? A pity your mac’s shabby, but you can take it off when you get there.’

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