Cleo jumped down from the sofa, pausing for a moment to growl angrily as the doll’s bonnet, still tied around her neck, rolled from her head and fell to the floor. Pearl buried her head in her hands and bawled.
Milly was stunned. Her sister never cried. Never!
The cat managed to shake the cardigan off but the ribbons on the bonnet and the skirt remained in place. Milly bent to remove them, but the cowering cat spat at her and bared her teeth. Milly snatched her hand away as she watched Cleo going backwards, putting as much distance between herself and Milly as she could. By the time she’d reached relative safety underneath the chest of drawers, the offending hat was dislodged.
Milly turned her attention back to her sister. Pearl had pressed her handkerchief to her face and was holding it out to inspect it. When she saw all the blood, Pearl gasped.
‘Look what she’s done!’ she shrieked. ‘I’m bleeding to death. I shall have a scar. She’s ruined my face.’ As she leapt to her feet, her expression changed from pain to anger and Milly guessed what was coming. ‘I’ll kill her! I’ll kill the stupid animal.’
Milly made a dash for the door and, as soon as she opened it, Cleo flew outside.
‘Why did you do that, you stupid idiot?’ her sister gasped. ‘Now you’ve let the damned thing get away.’
‘Sorry,’ Milly murmured, although of course she wasn’t one bit sorry. She glanced anxiously at her sister. There was every likelihood that Pearl would lash out and hit her now, but she didn’t regret letting Cleo escape to safety.
Pearl stood in front of the tall mirror dabbing her face. There was a long scratch from her cheek to her chin, but it wasn’t bleeding quite so much now. However, the bite on her arm looked pretty bad. Milly asked if it hurt and, by way of response, Pearl threw herself over the arm of the sofa and howled.
Milly recalled the tale she’d overheard the butcher boy telling Mrs Cunningham the cook. Apparently, Old Sam Clark (whoever he was) found a cat stuck in the ’edge but when he pulled the animal free, it scratched him. His wife had washed the wound and put on a bandage but Old Sam got blood poisoning. ‘Two days,’ the butcher boy said as Mrs Cunningham shook her head sadly, ‘that’s all it took and ’e was a goner.’
Milly was suddenly worried. Supposing Pearl got blood poisoning? Supposing she only lasted two days? ‘You should get that bite seen to,’ Milly ventured. ‘We need to get help.’
‘I can’t walk all the way to the house,’ Pearl groaned. ‘You’ll have to fetch somebody.’
‘But what if you’re a goner by the time I get back?’
Pearl sat up, her eyes wide. ‘Fine, but you’ll have to help me,’ she said dramatically. ‘I think I might faint.’
Milly hitched up her mother’s dress and, putting one arm around her sister, they set off across the garden. As they reached the ha-ha, a steep, manmade dip in the grass, designed to stop sheep roaming into their grounds, she was forced to kick off her mother’s high-heeled shoes. Milly helped her whimpering and tearful sister over the change in ground levels and they continued towards the house.
When they got to the gravel path, they could hear raised voices coming from the house. Milly was walking gingerly. The gravel dug into her feet and it wasn’t easy with Pearl leaning on her so heavily.
‘Sounds like Mummy and Daddy are having an argument,’ Milly remarked.
With a scoff, Pearl pooh-poohed the idea. ‘Daddy wouldn’t dare argue with Mummy,’ she hissed. But sure enough, they could soon make out their father’s strident voice coming through the open French windows of the sitting room. He was speaking in a kind of authoritative tone that neither of them had ever heard from him before.
‘This is one time when I’m having my way, Agatha, so you had better get used to it.’
‘What did you say?’ their mother demanded.
‘You heard me,’ he replied. ‘She is coming here.’
As they crept closer, the two girls saw their mother rising up sedately from her chair. ‘Now you listen to me, Charles,’ she said, her voice cutting the air like a knife. ‘If you think I’m going to disrupt the whole household so that you can entertain your floozy, you’ve got another think coming.’
Outside in the garden, Pearl and Milly froze, all thoughts of Pearl’s wounds suspended. They stared wide-eyed at each other, their mouths agape. Milly made to go inside, but Pearl suddenly pulled her sister under the heavy wisteria boughs and they pressed themselves close to the wall.
‘What’s a floozy?’ Milly whispered.
‘Shhh.’
‘I’m not entertaining her,’ their father said, his tone measured. ‘I’ve already explained to you, she needs looking after.’
‘Think of the scandal,’ Agatha went on, now verging on hysteria. ‘The servants will talk. Good God, we’ve got the fashion show to raise funds for the underprivileged in two weeks’ time.’
‘Agatha, it’s not that important,’ their father retorted. ‘We can give a donation instead.’
‘Don’t be a fool,’ Agatha snapped. ‘It’s far too late to cancel. The world and his wife will be here. Lady Gwendolen Fitzalan-Howard is coming to open the occasion. Have you any idea how many strings I had to pull to get her to come? No, Charles, that woman can’t come here, and that’s final.’
‘I’m not arguing with you,’ their father said resolutely.
‘Charles, I have worked my fingers to the bone to get us this far,’ Agatha shrilled. ‘I have moved heaven and earth to get you recognition in society.’
Their father didn’t reply but they heard the clink of the whisky bottle on glass.
‘We’ve come from relative obscurity,’ their mother continued, ‘to being one of the most important families in the county, and now you want to throw it all away.’
‘I appreciate all that you’ve done,’ their father said. He sounded tired, defeated. ‘But—’
‘But nothing, Charles. I won’t let you do it.’
‘The girl is very ill, Agatha.’
‘So?’
‘So, she needs peace and quiet. She needs to be nursed. She needs to be in one place. She can stay in the east wing.’ He paused, adding in a slightly lower tone, ‘I owe her that much.’
‘You may,’ Agatha sneered sarcastically. ‘But I don’t.’ There was no mistaking the venom in her cutting remark. ‘Send the hussy to the workhouse, where people of her sort belong.’
‘Do you always have to be so selfish, Agatha?’ their father implored.
