Little Girl Lost (25 page)

She smiled at him and then looked away. ‘I think that coffee tomorrow would be perfectly acceptable, Mr Ramsey.' She gave a trilling laugh. ‘Even if it might be considered by some to be living dangerously!'

Rosamund dressed carefully the next morning in a lilac two-piece: a buttoned fitted jacket and a full skirt, both trimmed with black piping. On her head she wore the same grey hat and veil as yesterday.

‘You look very nice, ma'am,' Florrie said, as she helped her fasten the tiny buttons. ‘It must be such a relief to wear some colour after black.'

‘I think it's quite appropriate though, wouldn't you say?' Rosamund said. ‘Lilac is perfectly suitable after eighteen months of mourning.'

She had never before asked Florrie's opinion about anything, but there was no one else she could ask except Lydia, whose opinions were so entirely her own that she couldn't be relied upon.

‘I think it's time you came back into 'world, ma'am.' Florrie picked up the dainty hat and adjusted the veil. ‘Whatever colour you're wearing doesn't mean you're not thinking about 'person you've lost.'

‘How right you are, Florence. I have to get back to some kind of normality.' Rosamund perched the hat on her head and pulled the veil over her eyes. Tomorrow, she decided, she would exchange the veil for a grey one. The black spots made her feel dizzy and she wasn't sure that they were very flattering after all. Not that she was looking to attract anyone, but it would be nice to have some male company for a day or two and Mr Ramsey was very charming and considerate. Very like Frederik in some ways, she thought.

Rosamund hadn't known many young men in her girlhood. She never really knew what to talk about with young men. Her mother had put her off with odd remarks and whispered conversations with her older sisters when they were contemplating marriage, and Rosamund had never really known what to expect from a male companion.

‘Trot along then, Margriet,' she said gaily after choosing a table on the terrace close by the railing and overlooking the sands. ‘I've brought a book to read, and if I get tired of it then I'll take a stroll down to meet you.'

‘Do you want me to come back for you, ma'am?' Florrie asked.

‘No, no,' Rosamund assured her. ‘I will come down alone. I'll be perfectly safe; we're in full view, after all.'

Florrie was astounded by the change in her mistress. Amazing, she thought, what a change of clothing could bring about, or maybe it was the Scarborough air. It was supposed to be very bracing. Margriet was racing ahead with her skirts flying, for she had spotted Julia on the sands, and Florrie hoped that her mother wasn't watching, as she was sure to say that it was most unseemly.

Julia was chasing after Hugh, then came George carrying a picnic hamper, Imogen carrying a rug and behind her Mr Sanderson carrying various pieces of paraphernalia, whilst Mrs Sanderson brought up the rear of the cavalcade holding on to the toddler Richard.

Florrie smiled. Margriet would have fun after all. She hailed them as she reached the sands, catching up with Mrs Sanderson, who had stopped to take off her shoes. ‘Mrs Sanderson; how are you, ma'am?'

‘I'm well, thank you, Florrie. I'm so glad that Mrs Vandergroene decided to come this year. Margriet was looking very peaky the last time I saw her.'

‘Yes. They're both in need of some fresh air and a change of surroundings.'

‘I'm quite sure they are,' Mrs Sanderson agreed. ‘I've told Mr Sanderson that should he depart this earth before me I won't spend long in widow's weeds, and he agrees with me. After all, men can go back to work or business straight away if their wives die first, so I really don't think it fair that women should sit at home all day wearing black and never seeing anybody. It's not natural. Phew!' She exhaled.

‘Are you all right, ma'am?'

‘Oh – yes, after a fashion. I'm tired, that's all. I'll be all right.'

‘Let me take your bag, ma'am. Is Polly not with you?'

Mrs Sanderson stopped to take a breath and handed over her bag. ‘No, she gave in her notice. She couldn't handle Hughie. My husband says he should go away to school but I don't want that. Not yet, anyway. He's all right when George is here to entertain him but not when George is away at school, and Miss Barker can't take him for another year.' She glanced thoughtfully at Florrie. ‘Polly wasn't firm enough with the young ones. They need someone a bit older yet young enough to keep them occupied. Goodness,' she said, setting off again, ‘I really need this holiday.'

The Sandersons spread themselves about on the sands with their blankets and picnic baskets and Mrs Sanderson invited Florrie to sit with them. Margriet and Julia were already paddling in the sea and then both girls came racing back to ask if they could swim.

‘We haven't brought a change of clothes for you, Miss Margriet,' Florrie said. ‘You'll have to dry off in the sun.'

‘That's all right, I don't mind,' Margriet said, and off they dashed again.

‘I'd better go in too and keep an eye on them,' Mr Sanderson told his wife. ‘Will you be all right with Hughie or shall I take him in?'

‘Take him, darling, will you? He's old enough to learn now.'

‘Oh, yes, do take him, Papa,' Imogen pleaded. ‘Then we can have some peace for half an hour.'

‘I'll come too,' George said. ‘Come on, trouble.' He grabbed his young brother. ‘Let's go and swim.'

The three of them headed towards the bathing machines and Mrs Sanderson sighed.

‘Are you going to swim, ma'am?' Florrie asked her. ‘I don't mind looking after 'baby and all the things here.'

‘Oh, that would be nice,' she said. ‘Are you sure you wouldn't mind? What about you, Immi? Would you like a swim?'

‘Later.' Imogen, who was growing into an attractive young woman, looked about her. ‘I'd quite like to take a stroll towards the lighthouse and the harbour and see what's happening, if that's all right, Mama?'

‘Of course, dear. Just be careful who you speak to.' Mrs Sanderson, so daring herself, was cautious over her daughters' welfare. She watched Imogen walk away across the sands and then turned to Florrie. ‘It is a worry,' she said. ‘Trying to find the balance between giving a daughter freedom and making sure she's safe.'

‘I think you do it better than anyone else I know, ma'am,' Florrie said quietly.

Mrs Sanderson nodded. ‘Immi's very sensible and I want her to have as many opportunities as her brother. It's not fair that women should not be allowed to do things that are well within their capabilities. I don't suppose …' She hesitated. ‘Perhaps I shouldn't say this when you're working for someone else, but if ever you thought of a change of employment, Florrie; I would be very pleased to discuss it with you.'

‘Oh.' Florrie was almost lost for words at the proposal. Her hopes of bettering herself had been dashed when Mr Vandergroene had died, for she knew she couldn't leave Margriet to cope with her grief alone. Her mistress, Florrie considered, would be no help to the child at all. ‘Well,' she said, ‘perhaps when Mrs Vandergroene is out of mourning …'

Mrs Sanderson smiled. ‘You are a very caring young woman,' she said. ‘I knew that already, and now you're thinking of Margriet. I quite understand. I'm managing, but would dearly like someone reliable to help with the two boys until they go to school. Well, let's talk again. Maybe early next year, if you think you might be interested. What is your role now?'

Florrie pondered. ‘General maid of all work, ma'am,' she said. ‘Housemaid, companion to Mrs Vandergroene, and chaperon to Miss Margriet.'

‘Dogsbody?' Mrs Sanderson laughed. ‘I thought as much,' and Florrie laughed too. ‘Well, you wouldn't be that in my house. I have house and kitchen staff already, and as soon as the younger children are old enough to travel we shall venture further abroad for our holidays. To France to begin with; nothing like hearing a foreign language to improve speaking skills.'

‘Oh, yes, ma'am, I quite agree. When I was in Netherlands with Miss Margriet—'

‘Ah, of course. I'd forgotten that you'd travelled abroad already. Excellent! Well, have a think about it, but right now,' she got to her feet, ‘I'm going to take advantage of your generous offer and take a dip in the briny. Won't be long.'

At midday the Sanderson family gathered for their picnic. ‘Margriet can stay for lunch if she'd like,' Mrs Sanderson told Florrie, ‘and you too, of course. There's plenty of food – we brought our cook with us. There's chicken and ham and pies and lots of cake—'

‘Oh, please, may I, Florrie? I'm still very damp and Mama might not be pleased.'

Florrie gave a wry grin. Little minx, she thought, but why not? And there was no doubt that Mrs Vandergroene would dislike very much seeing her daughter dishevelled and wet.

‘That's very kind of you, Mrs Sanderson.' Florrie got to her feet and dashed the sand off her skirt. ‘Mrs Vandergroene said she might walk down to join us, but as she hasn't I'll go up and see if she needs anything.'

Mrs Sanderson nodded. ‘Margriet will be fine with us. Immi, pass Margriet a plate and some chicken.'

Florrie saw Margriet look up and glance at Imogen as if she were about to ask her something, but she didn't. ‘I'll come back later,' she said. ‘Be good, Miss Margriet.' She turned to walk back along the hot sands and up the steep cliff.

The sun was beating down and she was hot and sticky by the time she got back to the Spa terrace, but Mrs Vandergroene wasn't there. She must have gone back to the house, Florrie thought. She looked over the railing and saw all the Sanderson family and Margriet sitting together eating their lunch and thought that her mistress might have seen them too and decided to go off on her own. Or perhaps she had just got tired of waiting for them to come back. Whatever the reason, Florrie thought, it was a considerable improvement on previous holidays, when she had been at her mistress's beck and call because she wouldn't go out on her own.

As she walked back up St Nicholas Cliff a man was coming towards her. He looked like a gentleman by the manner of his dress; he was wearing a top hat and jauntily swinging a cane. She moved to one side of the footpath to give him room and as he passed he didn't lift his hat but gave her a saucy wink.

Blooming cheek, she thought. Who did these swells think they were? And this one looked familiar. She walked on towards the house, and as she went up the path to the door she remembered where she had seen him. Stunned, she saw Mrs Vandergroene through the parlour window, gazing at her own reflection in the mirror on the wall.

He's been here! Mr Ramsey. Mrs Percival's brother. He's been here visiting Mrs Vandergroene!

‘I'm sorry if I'm late back, ma'am,' she said as she entered the parlour. ‘I lost track of 'time.'

‘Oh, that's all right, Florence,' her mistress said. ‘I've had quite a nice morning chatting to – people. In fact I've had an invitation to supper tonight. Mr and Mrs Percival have invited me over to the hotel where they're staying. An early supper, about six.'

‘Oh, that's nice, ma'am. I'll see to Miss Margriet's supper.'

‘Margriet! Where is she?'

‘Having lunch on 'sands with 'Sanderson family. I'll go back later to collect her. Could she take her swimming costume tomorrow, ma'am? She really wants to swim, and all the others are going in.'

‘I'm really not sure about that, Florence. I don't know if it's safe.'

‘I'll go in with her, ma'am.'

‘Will you? Well, perhaps … I'll think about it.'

‘Very well, ma'am. Would you like a drink now and something to eat?'

‘No, I don't think so. I've had coffee and a cake, and I'll be eating early.'

‘Yes, of course. Did Mr and Mrs Percival arrive this morning?'

‘Erm, no, they haven't actually arrived yet. I – I had a message to say they would be here this evening and would like me to dine with them. They'll send a carriage for me.'

‘Well, that will be very nice, ma'am,' Florrie repeated. ‘Very nice indeed.'

And that evening as she filled the tub for a very tired and sandy Margriet's bath, she reflected that it would indeed be very nice for her mistress to go out into company. Mrs Vandergroene had even said she would be perfectly all right to drive alone for the short distance to the Crescent. Except, Florrie thought, as she sponged Margriet down with soapy water, dried her and then popped her nightgown over her head before putting her to bed, she wasn't alone on the carriage journey – another figure had been waiting inside.

‘Of course I shouldn't really be saying this …' Lydia Percival took a dainty sip. She and Rosamund were taking afternoon tea in one of Scarborough's hotels. The day had turned dull; Margriet was visiting the Rotunda museum with Julia and Imogen Sanderson and Florrie, and Mr Ramsey had returned home.

‘Especially,' Lydia continued, toying with her fork and deliberating whether to take another slice of cake, ‘as I was asked not to mention it, but when someone says something like that I always think they actually want the matter to be discussed.'

Rosamund made a mental note never to tell anything to Lydia unless she wanted it to be circulated far and wide.

‘And of course I know it is far too soon. I said, my dear boy, she just isn't ready yet. It is far too soon.'

‘I have no idea of whom you are speaking, Lydia,' Rosamund said, wishing her friend would get on with whatever she wanted to say. ‘Who isn't ready for what?'

Really, Rosamund thought, she would be quite pleased when Lydia and her husband returned home. Mr Ramsey had left yesterday after a few delightful days during which she had not only strolled through Scarborough with him but had taken lunch and two suppers, for one of which Lydia and Vincent hadn't joined them. It had been quite proper, as they'd dined in the hotel where the Percivals and Mr Ramsey were staying, but since his departure she had found Lydia's company boring.