‘Georgie, it’s becoming a frightful rush already,’ she said. ‘This entertainment which they insist on my managing will make me very busy, but when one is appealed to like that, one can’t refuse. Then there’s my music, and sketching, and I haven’t begun to rub up my Greek… And don’t forget to send for your Drake clothes. Good night, my dear. I’ll call to you over the garden-paling tomorrow if anything happens.’

‘I feel as if it’s sure to,’ said Georgie with enthusiasm.

Chapter 5

Lucia was writing letters in the window of the garden-room next morning. One, already finished, was to Adele Brixton asking her to send to Mallards the Queen Elizabeth costume for the tableaux: a second, also finished, was to the Padre, saying that she found she would not have time to attend committees for the hospital fête, and begging him to co-opt Miss Mapp. She would, however, do all in her power to help the scheme, and make any little suggestions that occurred to her. She added that the chance of getting fruit gratis for the refreshment department would be far brighter if the owner of it was on the board.

The third letter, firmly beginning ‘Dearest Liblib’ (and to be signed very large, LUCIA), asking her to dine in two days’ time, was not quite done when she saw dearest Liblib, with a fixed and awful smile, coming swiftly up the street. Lucia, sitting sideways to the window, could easily appear absorbed in her letter and unconscious of Elizabeth’s approach, but from beneath half-lowered eyelids she watched her with the intensest interest. She was slanting across the street now, making a beeline for the door of Mallards (‘and if she tries to get in without ringing the bell, she’ll find the chain on the door,’ thought Lucia).

The abandoned woman, disdaining the bell, turned the handle and pushed. It did not yield to her intrusion, and she pushed more strongly. There was the sound of jingling metal, audible even in the garden-room, as the hasp that held the end of the chain gave way; the door flew open wide, and with a few swift and nimble steps she just saved herself from falling flat on the floor of the hall.

Lucia, pale with fury, laid down her pen and waited for the situation to develop. She hoped she would behave like a lady, but was quite sure it would be a firm sort of lady. Presently up the steps to the garden-room came that fairy tread, the door was opened an inch, and that odious voice said:

‘May I come in, dear?’

‘Certainly,’ said Lucia brightly.