EDITH STELLION WAS exhausted after her trip to the doctor in Preston and took to her bed the whole of the next day. Gina wasn’t alarmed: her employer often said she was tired and went to lie down. But even the following week, Edith was listless and inactive, staying in bed in the mornings and hardly wanting to bother to tell Gina what it was she required.

Mrs Bassett tried to tempt her to eat with sweet milk puddings, but Edith wasn’t very interested in those either.

‘Do you think she’s seriously ill?’ Gina asked Mrs Bassett when she returned the breakfast tray to the kitchen one morning, the coddled eggs and thin slices of toast barely touched. ‘That doctor in Preston doesn’t seem to have made her any better.’

‘I don’t think she’s dying—’ said Mrs Bassett.

‘That’s a relief.’

‘—but she suffered a loss when she was younger and it’s at this time of year that she remembers it especially. I don’t like to gossip, but it made a difference to her, like, and she’s not been the same since.’

Gina, who was feeling impatient with the invalid and also bored, was not sympathetic, but it seemed a good idea, if life were to buck up at the Hall, to try to get Mrs Stellion back on track.

‘Perhaps I should speak to Mr S, see if he has any ideas,’ she said. ‘In the meantime there’s been a letter from Mrs Thwaite this morning. She’s not going to come back to the Hall. She’s intending to set up home with her sister in Great Grindle. I’m told to pack up her things and send them on, then move myself down to those rooms.’

About time, too. I thought she’d never write the bloomin’ letter. At least I didn’t have to go back there to persuade her, or help her on her way with a suitable spell.

‘Oh dear, that is bad news. That is, it’s lovely to have you here, Gina, dear, but Mrs Thwaite was part of the furniture almost, if you know what I mean.’ The cook sounded regretful and Gina wondered how close the two women were. She’d better be careful not to confide anything in Mrs Bassett.

‘Well, it seems she’s not any longer,’ said Gina, trying her best to sound sorry about it. ‘I’m going to ask Mum to help me pack up Mrs Thwaite’s things and see to the rooms. Mrs Stellion doesn’t like the sound of the vacuum cleaner upstairs when she’s in bed feeling fragile of a morning, so it’ll be summat for Mum to do.’

‘Good idea, Gina. Right thoughtful of you …’