Mistress of Greyladies Read Online Free Page B

who also workedfor the Steins. The two women marvelled at what they saw, enjoying the pianist who played suitable music while the film was shown.
    After the years of nursing her mother, Phoebe wanted only to lead a quiet, restful life. One day she’d look for more, but not yet.
     
    Two years later Phoebe was sent to buy a few groceries for her employers because their housemaid had left them abruptly a day or two ago. She was happy to do this instead of working in the shop, since the errand took her out into the fresh air.
    As she walked along the narrow streets of Swindon’s Old Town, she lifted her face to the early morning sunshine of what promised to be a glorious summer’s day. She’d turned twenty-one a couple of weeks ago, and was now officially an adult, but hadn’t told anyone it was her birthday. She smiled wryly. It always felt as if she’d grown up when her mother fell ill.
    The Steins were such good employers, she wondered as she walked why the maid who’d been with them for several years would just up and leave without giving proper notice. Perhaps the poor woman had family problems, but she could have explained, surely?
    Phoebe enjoyed the bustle and didn’t mind queuing in the shops after the quiet of the countryside. She’d recently come back from her annual holiday week, which she’d spent quietly with Horace and Janet on the farm. She’d helped out, because there was always work to be done, and anyway, she’d enjoyed the change of scene and the different tasks.
    Janet said Frank had a new job, buying and selling things at the markets, but she didn’t know any details, just thather son seemed to be making a better living from it. She wished he’d marry and settle down, was sad to have no grandchildren, and him twenty-five.
    Phoebe passed Frank in the street in Swindon sometimes, but did no more than nod to him. He still made her feel uncomfortable because his eyes always lingered where they shouldn’t. She’d never seen him at the markets, though, and wondered why he’d told his mother he worked there.
    As she went from the brilliance of the sunshine into the dimness of the shop, she sighed. By afternoon, the row of shops was in the shadow of some taller buildings and they had to light the big gasolier that hung from the centre of the ceiling.
    Mr Stein was polishing the inside of the shop window. He was very fussy about that sort of thing, insisting everything must look sparkling clean and inviting. He stopped work to smile at her.
    ‘
Guten Tag
, Phoebe.’
    ‘
Guten Tag, Herr Stein. Wie geht es Ihnen?
’ She always tried to answer him in his own language, and he was teaching her a few words of German every day.
    ‘
Sehr gut, danke
.’
    He always said he was well, but he was past sixty and not in the best of health, and she could see how tired he became by the end of the day. The Steins had fled from Austria to live in England a few years ago, she didn’t quite understand why. It must have been difficult for them to change languages as well as countries. They didn’t have children or close family, but some good friends had helped them settle into their new country.
    Phoebe went through to the rear workroom, where they did the cutting and sewing, to tell Mrs Stein she’d finished the errands. She handed over their house key. ‘I’ve left thethings in the kitchen and pantry, as you asked.’
    ‘Thank you, dear. You can make a start in the workroom now. Edith is very late today. I hope she’s not ill.’
    Phoebe nipped up to the second floor and hung up her coat and beret, then hurried down to the shop. She was surprised not to see her co-worker yet. Edith had been there for years and was always at work long before this time. They had several orders for curtains waiting to be filled and customers didn’t like to be kept waiting.
    Phoebe put on a clean overall, more to protect the curtains than herself, and continued hemming a set of drops she’d started work on the previous day.