‘Well, it’s right decent of you to ask for her books back, Mr …?’

‘Hillier.’ The unfriendly man was shaking Gina’s proffered hand before he knew it.

‘Mr Hillier, a pleasure to meet you. So, here are your aunt’s books back.’ She took her time opening them to the date-stamped pages, chatting all the while. ‘And so is it just you and your mother, and now your aunt at home? I know Mrs Thwaite’s husband was killed in the war … such a tragedy to be left alone. Except she’s not alone now, of course.’

‘Yes, my uncle died in the war, and my father, too.’

‘That’s a shame. Leaving you and your brothers and sisters to be brought up by your mum.’

‘Just me. I have no siblings. It was just me and Mum.’

Mummy’s boy, I expect.

‘She must be so proud of you, running the mobile library, taking this big van out every day.’

‘Oh, I don’t run the library, exactly, but, yes, it’s a lot of work … long days.’

‘Mm, I should think so. Do they ever give you a day off?’

Mr Hillier brightened. ‘Saturday afternoons and Sundays,’ he disclosed.

‘Oh, yes …?’

‘What about you, Miss … er, Miss Arnold?’

‘Yes, that is my name.’ Gina was enjoying herself.

‘I meant, do you get a day off?’

‘I do indeed,’ said Gina. ‘Now are you going to take in these returns or not?’

As Gina walked back up the drive to the Hall she felt well pleased with herself. If she played her hand carefully, the housekeeper’s job was hers for good and Mrs Thwaite would not be returning. What she needed after that was a plan to liven things up at the Hall and make sure Mrs Stellion knew just what a treasure her new housekeeper was.

CHAPTER EIGHT

IT WAS GLOOMY that Wednesday and looked like rain.

‘Take the afternoon off, if you want, Nell,’ said Tom as they tied some runner beans to a lattice of canes. ‘We’ll be done here shortly, and I wonder if you’d like to go and see Mr Shepherd. I’d be glad of some news of him.’

‘Thank you, Mr Arnold. I’ll see if I can persuade him to return to the mobile library,’ Ellen said with a smile.

‘Do, if he’s feeling better. We’ll be glad to see him and so, I gather, will a lot of his regulars, though I reckon he’s probably retired for good. He must be nearly seventy.’

‘Mebbe so. Do you think I could take a few flowers for him, please? I know they’re Mr and Mrs Stellion’s, of course, but they let us cut some for ourselves so p’raps it would be all right if I gave Mr Shepherd what I might have taken for myself?’