‘Please, sir, I know it’s bold of me to ask. But can you tell me if I’ve got the position or not? If I haven’t, I’d rather know. I hate being kept in suspense.’
‘Do you now?’ Dr Dryden looks down at me thoughtfully. ‘Hold out your arm then.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Your arm please, Miss Hughes.’
Hesitantly, I extend my right arm, and he pushes the sleeve of my dress up carefully and trails a cool finger down my warm skin. His icy touch is thrilling, and I can’t help shuddering a little.
Dr Dryden studies the inside of my lily-white wrist. He prods a forefinger at the network of pale-blue veins.
‘Does your skin bruise easily?’
The question confuses me, but I sense the answer I give will help him decide whether to offer me the position. But why does he want to know? Is it something to do with his son?
‘I-I’m not sure, sir. I don’t think so. No more than anyone else’s.’
‘Are you healthy?
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Do you have any conditions?’
‘No, sir.’
I realise then that this is a health examination, not some excuse to touch me, and my cheeks flush a little for reading more into it than I should.
‘Very well.’ He drops my arm, and I pull down my sleeve. ‘I’ve decided that you will do very nicely. I mean ...’ He clears his throat softly. ‘That you would be a welcome addition to the Dryden household.’
My heart lifts, and I can’t help the grin that spreads over my face. ‘Really, sir?’
He nods. ‘Really, Miss Hughes.’
Wait till Aunt Ivy hears this. I’m going up in the world!
‘If you’d like to tell me yourrealaddress, I’ll write to your aunt and confirm it. I’ll also let you know what date you’ll be starting.’
‘Of course, sir.’ I tell him the address, and then I’m being shown outside onto the stoop. He says a quick goodbye and is about to close the door.
‘Sir?’
He opens the door a crack, and an eye glints at me. Therest of him blends in with the darkness beyond the door. ‘Yes?’
‘Can I just ask, why? The reason why you chose me, I mean.’
There’s a long pause. ‘I find you ... refreshing. Good day, Miss Hughes. I will be in touch.’
The door closes abruptly, and I stand there for a moment, lost for words.
Refreshing?I’ve never been called that by a man before. ‘Bookish’, ‘mouthy’, and once I was called a ‘prig’, but never ‘refreshing’. Aunt Ivy is going to chuckle when I tell her that.
It’s only when I’m on the omnibus heading back to Spitalfields that I realise he hasn’t told me anything about his son whatsoever.
***
Aunt Ivy, as expected, is thrilled that I was chosen for the position and is patting herself on the back for giving me a leg up in society, even if it is by underhanded means. It relieves her of some of the responsibility of feeding and clothing me. God knows she’s finding it hard enough to feed and clothe herself.
‘Dr Dryden found out I live in Spitalfields, and he still chose me. What do you think that means?’ I ask her that evening when we’re sat in front of the fire, toasting bread. Now that the excitement has worn off, the slight misgiving that I had at the interview about working for him has turned into full-blown foreboding.
