On impulse, Millie took the letters off the tray and left them on the hall table before taking the tray through the double doors.
He was in his wheelchair by the fire with various sections ofThe Evening Messengerstrewn across his lap, on the side table next to him and even on the floor. He watched her walk towards him with an expressionless face. Millie placed the tray on the desk and looked around for a small coffee table to put withinhis reach.
“Would you like me to clear away the papers and put your coffee by your side?”
“Forgive me, I am an old man,” he said, “and no doubt I am senile and forgetful, but I have a vague memory that I told you to bugger off.”
She kept her face and voice pleasant but detached. “Yes, you did. But the last ferry’s gone, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with me until tomorrow. I thought I might make myself useful.”
“I don’t care what you make yourself for the rest of the night as long as you do it away from me. There are plenty of rooms in the house.”
“As you wish. Shall I leave the coffee there on the desk and ask Mrs B to come up? Only it might get cold bythe time—”
“Oh, just pour the bloody thing, and then go.” He made a big production ofglowering.
She pretended not to notice while she moved the papers from his little side table.
Oh, hell. How much cream and sugar does he take in his coffee?She should have asked Mrs B. There was nothing for it, now. Her granny used to say,If you have to grasp the nettle, do it right away; waiting won’t make it stingany less.
She poured the coffee and took the cup to the little table by his side. Since Mrs B had given her sugar, it was a safe bet he took at least one. Millie took the little silver tongs with one cube of sugar, dropped it in. She grasped another cube but hovered it above the cup, waiting for him to say.
“You’ve already forgotten Mrs B’s instructions?” he asked. “Two.”
She dropped the second sugar cube, then poured cream slowly. “Say when.”
“When,” he said as soon as the coffee turned a muddy brown.
She stirred and left the spoon in the saucer.
“I’m no longer a baby. I can drink my coffee from the cup directly. I don’t need the spoon.”
She said nothing and removedthe spoon.
“Go. And I don’t want to see you ever again.”
She walked almost as far as the door, then turned. “I have your post just outside. I was going to bring it in. Or shall I leave it for Mrs B? She’s busy, but I can try to lookfor her.”
“I don’t have timeto wait.”
She brought in the post. He watched her walk towards the desk to find the letter opener.
“My son has a cruel sense of humour hiring you.”
“I don’t know about that. I was hired by a recruitment agency, Elite Appointments,” she said, putting the letter opener and envelopes on the little table byhis side.
“They can’t be very ‘elite’ if they put you on their books.”
“Yes, well, I called them five days ago, April fool’s day.”
Du Montfort grunted, but his lipsquivered.
With one hand in his pocket, she guessed he needed help opening letters, but she didn’t want to force him to admit it. “Which one would you like me to open first?”
“Start with the large one. It’ll be official reports. You don’t need to read everything out, just give methe gist.”
She pulled a chair and sat down to start her job.
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