‘I’m, I mean we’re glad. We were worrying about you.’
‘Was Mrs Gandell worrying?’
‘Course she was, Miss.’
‘People that worry are silly, Jones,’ Miss Vaughan said.
Jones fingered the doorknob. ‘You really are all right, Miss Vaughan,’ and hearing no reply began tapping on the door again.
‘What is it?’ and he caught the irritation behind it.
‘It’s supper time, Miss Vaughan. That’s what. Mrs Gandell is waiting downstairs. Terribly worried about you she was.’
‘Mrs Gandell is silly, Jones.’
‘Will you come down now then, Miss Vaughan,’ and without realising it Jones had fully turned the knob and the door slowly opened.
‘You seem to be worrying, too, Jones,’ Miss Vaughan said.
After which there was a silence. Curiosity made him put his head slowly into the room. Miss Vaughan was lying on her bed, a book in her hand.
‘Well indeed,’ he thought, ‘it’s only me, Miss Vaughan,’ he said.
‘You told me that.’
She was hidden behind her book, and now slowly turned a page. He wondered how she could read in such a poor light.
‘Your supper’ll get cold, Miss,’ Jones said.
And he stared at the motionless woman on the bed, who calmly turned yet another page. His head went further in.
‘Not a very good light, is it? Shall I ask Mrs Gandell to put in a brighter one? You must notice it when you’re reading, Miss.’
‘I never notice.’
‘Oh!’
Miss Vaughan turned another page, and forgot that Jones was there. He was now fully visible on the threshold, his eyes everywhere, taking in bed and table, mirror and books, table and tiny clock.
‘You are coming, Miss?’ he said urgently.
‘I am coming, Jones. Isn’t that enough?’
‘There is a letter for you on the floor,’ he said.
‘Leave it.’
‘Yes, Miss. Then I’ll tell Mrs Gandell you’ll be down soon,’ and suddenly Miss Vaughan was looking at him, over the book, over her spectacles, and then she calmly turned another page. Jones shot downstairs and positively flung himself into a chair.
‘Gone?’
‘No. She’s there, Mrs Gandell. Everything’s all right. Still with us.’
‘Thought you’d never come down, Jones, that the worst had really happened. Just the sort of person that would.’
‘She’s coming down shortly. Knocked three times and she didn’t answer. I thought she’d scooted, then I knocked again, and it was all right. She must have been in all the afternoon. And d’you know what?’
‘What?’
‘I think she has a mood on, kind of queer, she was fully stretched out on the bed, reading a book. Never even looked at me when I put my head in, she was hidden behind it, and even while I was there actually read and turned two whole pages. Asked me some odd questions did Miss Vaughan, so being decent, I gave her the oddest answers. But it’s all right, she’s coming to supper. Said she had her lunch at the Blue Bird Cafe today.’
‘I hope she enjoyed it. How lucky she is to have such a decent employer.’
‘Told her we’d kept her lunch for her, waited an hour, she said nothing, never even apologised, Mrs Gandell, just went on lying there, reading, still as still .…’
‘Stupid woman,’ Mrs Gandell said.
‘It’s only a mood,’ Jones said, ‘we all have moods, don’t we?’
But she did not answer him, and looking at her he realised how greatly relieved she was.
‘If she had beat it, never come back, it might have been worse.’
‘I’ll call her.’
And she called from the bottom of the stairs, in her best bosun’s voice. ‘Miss Vaughan! Are you coming, or aren’t you. Supper is getting cold.’
Miss Vaughan’s voice seemed to come from a great distance.
