Tabitha knocked on the bedroom door. She was in Edith’s elegant suite of rooms, a place of beauty and peace, a remnant of a different era. A large sitting room faced the gardens, with a vast bedroom and en suite bathroom leading off it. The rooms had once belonged to Edith’s mother, Muriel, and when Edith had taken them over, she had never felt the need to alter the elegant Art Nouveau furniture and soft furnishings. She had updated the plumbing in the bathroom and had the free-standing bath refurbished. The other rooms were decorated regularly and the soft furnishings replaced when necessary, but the atmosphere of pre-World War One glamour remained.
She had entered through the living room, placing her laden tray on a side table before knocking gently on the bedroom door. It was ajar and Tabitha could see Edith tapping on her iPad.
‘Come in, dear,’ Edith called from the bed and Tabitha was relieved to hear Edith’s voice was stronger than it had sounded for days.
‘I’ve brought your lunch,’ said Tabitha, looking around for a place to leave it.
Edith cleared the newspaper, book and notebook from beside her and patted the vast double bed. Tabitha put it beside Edith, removing the Thermos flask, teacup and side plates which held scones, cream, jam and butter, placing them on the bedside table.
‘Thank you. Delivering trays of food definitely isn’t in your contract.’
‘I’ll invoice you for the extra services,’ said Tabitha with a grin and Edith laughed.
‘Quite right too,’ she said. ‘What’s Nicola sent up to tempt me today?’
‘Homemade soup, Molly’s soda bread and scones,’ said Tabitha. ‘There’s tea in the flask because Nicola knows you hate cold tea.’
Edith pulled her bed jacket around her shoulders, an item of clothing Tabitha had not known existed outside the pages of a novel, but Edith assured her they were a necessity.
‘It fits snugly over my nightdress and keeps me warm without making me too hot,’ she had explained. ‘I shall buy you one and you’ll understand.’
To Tabitha’s relief, Edith had not yet acted on this promise.
‘What a silly old woman I am, causing so much fuss,’ Edith said as Tabitha helped her to rearrange her pillows. ‘Would you open the curtains, please, dear? It feels like death’s waiting room in here.’
Wincing at the comment, Tabitha eased back the heavy floor-to-ceiling drapes and the bright autumn sunshine flooded the beautiful room.
‘You can’t help picking up a stomach bug,’ said Tabitha.
‘True,’ she said, ‘but I don’t understand why no one else has been suffering.’
‘Perhaps you caught it while you were out with Letty,’ suggested Tabitha.
‘It’s possible,’ said Edith.
She lifted the silver dome from over the soup and breathed in.
‘Spicy parsnip,’ she said, ‘my favourite.’
‘I’ll leave you in peace,’ said Tabitha.
‘No, please stay,’ said Edith, pointing to the armchair near the bed. ‘I’m so bored. Gulliver keeps whispering to me as though I’m about to die, Molly is terrified of catching the bug, flings the tray at me then runs…’
‘And Lucia?’ asked Tabitha.
Edith rolled her eyes. ‘She speaks to me as though I’m senile.’
Tabitha raised her eyebrows and Edith gave her a knowing nod.
‘Has she popped in a lot?’ asked Tabitha in surprise.
‘Three times and each time, I was sicker than ever after she left. It’s a relief she’s away for a few days, I feel better already.’
‘Perhaps you’re allergic to her perfume,’ suggested Tabitha and grinned.
‘Allergic to her,’ said Edith, her eyes sparkling, then her face took on a thoughtful expression. ‘When Gull first brought her home, I could understand why he was attracted to her. No one – male or female – with eyes in their head could deny her beauty but, underneath, there’s a true coldness.’
‘What do you mean?’
