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down to the basement, where Mrs Branch and the housemaid lived their lives. She took the tray with her and, being a practical girl, ate the fingers of toast on it and accepted the mug of tea Mrs Branch offered her. She should have had her breakfast with Mrs Branch and Ellie, but there wasn’t much hope of getting it now. Getting Miss Cattell ready for the doctor would take quite a time. She ate the rest of the toast, sliced the lemon and bore a tray, daintily arranged, back upstairs.
Mimi Cattell, a spoilt beauty of society, prepared for the doctor’s visit with the same care she took when getting ready for an evening party. ‘And you can make the bed while I’m bathing—put some fresh pillowcases on, and don’t dawdle…’
It was almost lunchtime by the time she was once more in her bed, carefully made up, wearing a gossamer nightgown, the fairytale effect rather marred by her sniffs. To blow her nose would make it red.
To Loveday’s enquiry as to what she would like for lunch she said ill-temperedly that she had no appetite; she would eat something after he had visited her. ‘And you’d better wait too; I want you here when he’s examining me.’
‘I’ll fetch a jug of lemonade,’ said Loveday, and sped down to the kitchen.
While Ellie obligingly squeezed lemons, she gobbled down soup and a roll; she was going to need all her patience, and the lowering feeling that the doctor might not come for hours was depressing.
She bore the lemonade back upstairs and presently took it down again; it wasn’t sweet enough! She was kept occupied after that—opening the heavy curtains a little, then closing them again, longing to open a window and let a little London air into the room when Mimi sprayed herself once more with Chanel No 5. By now Mimi’s temper, never long off the boil, was showing signs of erupting. ‘He has no right to leave me in such distress,’ she fumed. ‘I need immediate attention. By the time he gets here I shall have probably got pneumonia. Find my smelling salts and give me the mirror from the dressing table.’
It was getting on for two o’clock when Loveday suggested that a little light lunch might make her employer feel better.
‘Rubbish,’ snarled Mimi. ‘I won’t eat a thing until he’s examined me. I suppose you want a meal—well, you’ll just have to wait.’ Her high-pitched voice rose to a screech. ‘I don’t pay you to sit around and stuff yourself at my expense, you greedy little…’
The door opened by Ellie, and after one look the screech became a soft, patient voice. ‘Doctor—at last…’
Mimi put up a hand to rearrange the cunning little curl over one ear to better advantage. ‘I don’t think we’ve met,’ she purred. To Loveday, she said, ‘Pull the curtains and get a chair for the doctor, and then go and stand by the window.’ The commands were uttered in a very different voice.
The doctor opened the curtains before Loveday could get to them and pulled up a chair. ‘I must introduce myself, Miss Cattell. I am Dr Gregg’s partner and for the moment looking after his patients while he is away.’
Mimi said in a wispy voice, ‘I thought you would never come. I am rather delicate, you know, and my health often gives cause for concern. My chest…’
She pushed back the bedspread and put a hand on her heart. It was annoying that he had turned away.
‘Could we have the window open?’ he asked Loveday.
A man after her own heart, thought Loveday, opening both windows despite Mimi’s distressed cry. She would suffer for it later, but now a few lungfuls of London air would be heaven.
From where she stood she had a splendid view of the doctor. He was a tall man, with broad shoulders and fair hair flecked with grey. He was good-looking too, with a rather thin mouth and a splendid nose upon which were perched a pair of spectacles. A pity she couldn’t see the colour of his eyes…
Miss Cattell’s voice, sharp with impatience, brought her to the bedside. ‘Are you deaf?’ A remark hastily covered by a fit of sneezing, necessitating the use of a handkerchief and nose-blowing.
The doctor waited patiently until Mimi had resumed her look of patient suffering. He said mildly, ‘If you will sit up, I’ll listen to your chest.’
He had a deep voice, pleasantly impersonal, and he appeared quite unimpressed by Mimi’s charms, ignoring her fluttering breaths and sighs, staring at the wall behind the bed while he used his stethoscope.
‘Clear as a bell,’ he told her. ‘A head cold. I suggest aspirin, hot drinks and some brisk walks in the fresh air—you are quite near Hyde Park, are you not? Eat whatever you fancy and don’t drink any alcohol.’
Mimi stared up at him. ‘But I’m not well—I’m delicate; I might catch a chill…’
‘You have a head cold,’ he told her gravely, and Loveday had to admire his bedside manner. ‘But you are a healthy woman with a sound pair of lungs. You will be perfectly fit in a couple of days—less, if you do as I suggest.’
Mimi said rudely, ‘I’ll decide that for myself. When will Dr Gregg be back? I don’t know your name…?’
‘Andrew Fforde.’ He held out a large hand. ‘I’m sure you will let me know if you don’t make a full recovery.’
Mimi didn’t answer. Loveday went to the door with him and said gravely, ‘Thank you for coming, Doctor.’ She went downstairs with him, along the hall and opened the front door. As he offered a hand and bade her a grave good afternoon she was able to see that his eyes were blue.
A sensible girl, she went first down to the kitchen, where Mrs Branch and Ellie were sitting over a pot of strong tea.
‘I’ve saved you a bite of lunch,’ said Mrs Branch, and pushed a mug of tea across the table. ‘That weren’t Dr Gregg. Ellie says ‘e looked a bit of all right?’
‘Dr Gregg’s partner, and he was nice. Miss Cattell has a head cold.’ Mrs Branch handed Loveday a cheese sandwich. ‘You’ll need that. Well, will she be going out this evening?’
‘I should think so,’ said Loveday in a cheese-thickened voice.
Miss Cattell was in a splendid rage; the doctor was a fool and she would speak to Dr Gregg about him the moment he was back. ‘The man must be struck off,’ declared Mimi. ‘Does he realise that I am a private patient? And you standing there with the windows wide open, not caring if I live or die.’
Mimi tossed a few pillows around. ‘Where have you been? You can get me a gin and tonic…’
‘Doctor said no alcohol.’
‘You’ll do as I say! Make it a large one, and tell Cook to make me an omelette and a salad. I want it now. I shall rest and you can get everything ready for this evening.’
‘You are going to the party, Miss Cattell?’
‘Of course I am. I don’t intend to disappoint my friends. I dare say I’ll be home early. I’ll ring for you if I am.’
Another half an hour went by while Mimi was rearranged in her bed, offered her omelette and given a second gin and tonic. She finally settled, the windows shut and curtains drawn, for a nap. Loveday, free at last, went to her room on the floor above, kicked off her shoes and got onto the bed. Some days were worse than others…
Miss Cattell was still asleep and snoring when Loveday crept into her room an hour later. In the kitchen once again, for yet another cup of tea, she thankfully accepted Mrs Branch’s offer of a casserole kept hot in the oven for her supper. Mimi wouldn’t leave the house before half past eight or nine o’clock, and there would be no chance to sit down to her supper before then.
Later, offering more China tea and wafer-thin bread and butter, Loveday was ordered to display a selection of the dresses Miss Cattell intended to wear. She meant to outshine everyone there and, her cold forgotten, she spent a long time deciding. After the lengthy ritual of bathing, making up her face and doing her hair, and finally being zipped into