Although Amy had in the past appeared slight she was now frail. And even if she had always been quiet she was now almost inaudible. If she had been perhaps a little pale, she was now gray and the lines on her face were so deeply etched she looked far older than her sixty-nine years.
Amy lowered herself onto the chair next to her sister and for some seconds continued to breathe deeply, leaving her visitor in no doubt that the walk from the bedroom to the drawing room had been something of an ordeal.
"It's so kind of you to leave your family and come up to be with me in Yorkshire," Amy said as the tortoiseshell cat climbed onto her lap. "I must confess that since dear Papa died I don't know where to turn."
"That's quite understandable, my dear." Mrs. Trentham smiled thinly. "But I felt it was nothing more than my duty to be with you as well as being a pleasure, of course. In any case, Father warned me this might happen once he had passed away. He gave me specific instructions, you know, as to exactly what should be done in the circumstances."
"Oh, I'm so glad to hear that." Amy's face lit up for the first time. "Please do tell me what Papa had in mind."
"Father was adamant that you should sell the house as quickly as possible and either come and live with Gerald and me at Ashurst—"
"Oh, I could never dream of putting you to so much trouble, Ethel."
"—or alternatively you could move into one of those nice little hotels on the coast that cater specially for retired couples and single people. He felt that way you could at least make new friends and indeed even have an extended lease on life. I would naturally prefer you to join us in Buckingham, but what with the bombs—"
"He never mentioned selling the house to me," murmured Amy anxiously. "In fact, he begged me—"
"I know, my dear, but he realized only too well what a strain his death would be on you and asked me to break the news gently. You will no doubt recall the long meeting we held in his study when I last came up to see him."
Amy nodded her acknowledgment but the look of bewilderment remained on her face.
"I remember every word he said," Mrs. Trentham went on. "Naturally, I shall do my utmost to see his wishes are carried out."
"But I wouldn't know how or where to begin."
"There's no need for you to give it a second thought, my dear." She patted her sister's arm. "That's exactly why I'm here."
"But what will happen to the servants and my dear Garibaldi?" Amy asked anxiously as she continued stroking the cat. "Father would never forgive me if they weren't all properly taken care of."
"I couldn't agree more," Mrs. Trentham said. "However, as always he thought of everything and gave me explicit instructions as to what should be done with all the staff."
"How thoughtful of dear Papa. However, I am not altogether certain . . ."
It took Mrs. Trentham two more days of patient encouragement before she was finally able to convince her sister that her plans for the future would all work out for the best and, more important, it was what "dear Papa" wanted.
From that moment on Amy only came down in the afternoons to take a short walk around the garden and occasionally attend to the petunias. Whenever Mrs. Trentham came across her sister she begged her not to overdo things.
Three days later Amy dispensed with her afternoon walk.
The following Monday Mrs. Trentham gave the staff a week's notice, with the exception of the cook whom she told to stay on until Miss Amy had been settled. That same afternoon she sought out a local agent and placed the house and the sixty-acre estate on the market.
On the following Thursday Mrs. Trentham made an appointment to see a Mr. Althwaite, a solicitor in Harrogate. On one of her sister's infrequent visits downstairs she explained to Amy that it had not been necessary to bother Mr. Baverstock: she felt certain any problem that arose concerning the estate could be more easily dealt with by a local man.
Three weeks later Mrs. Trentham was able to move her sister and a few of her belongings into a small residential hotel overlooking the east coast a few miles north of Scarborough. She agreed with the proprietor that it was unfortunate that they could not allow pets but felt sure that her sister would fully understand. Mrs. Trentham's final instruction was to send the monthly bills direct to Coutts in the Strand, where they would be settled immediately.
Before Mrs. Trentham bade farewell to Amy she got her sister to sign three documents. "So that you will have nothing more to worry about, my dear," Mrs. Trentham explained in a gentle tone.
Amy signed all three of the forms placed in front of her without bothering to read them. Mrs. Trentham quickly folded up the legal papers prepared by the local solicitor and deposited them in her handbag.
"I'll see you soon," she promised Amy before kissing her sister on the forehead. A few minutes later she began her journey back to Ashurst.
The bell above the door clanged noisily in the musty silence as Mrs. Trentham stepped smartly into the shop. At first there was no sign of movement until at last Mr. Sneddles appeared from his little room at the rear carrying three books under his arm.
"Good morning, Mrs. Trentham," he said. "How kind of you to respond to my note so quickly. I felt I had to contact you as a problem has arisen."
"A problem?" Mrs. Trentham drew back the veil that covered her face.
"Yes. As you are aware, I have almost completed my work in Yorkshire. I am sorry it has taken so long, madam, but I fear I have been overindulgent with my time, such was my appreciation of—"
Mrs. Trentham waved a hand in a manner that indicated she was not displeased.
"And I fear," he continued, "that despite enlisting the good services of Dr. Halcombe as my assistant and also remembering the time it takes to travel up and down to Yorkshire it may still take us several more weeks to both catalogue and value such a fine collection—always aware that your late father spent a lifetime putting the library together."
"It's of no consequence," Mrs. Trentham assured him. "You see, I'm not in a hurry. Do take your time, Mr. Sneddles, and just let me know when you have completed the task."
The antiquarian smiled at the thought of being allowed to continue his cataloguing uninterrupted.
He escorted Mrs. Trentham back to the front of the shop and opened the door to let her out. No one who saw them together would have believed they had been born in the same year. She stared up and down Chelsea Terrace before quickly dropping the veil across her face.
Mr. Sneddles closed the door behind her and rubbed his mittens together, then shuffled back to his room to join Dr. Halcombe.
Lately he had been annoyed whenever a customer entered the shop.
"After thirty years, I have no intention of changing my stockbrokers," Gerald Trentham said curtly as he poured himself a second cup of coffee.
"But can't you understand, my dear, just what a boost it would give Nigel to secure your account for his company?"
"And what a blow it would be for David Cartwright and Vickers da Costa to lose a client whom they have served so honorably for over a hundred years? No Ethel, it's high time Nigel carried out his own airy work. Damn it all, he's over forty."
"All the more reason to help," his wife suggested as she buttered a second piece of toast.
"No, Ethel. I repeat, no."
"But can't you see that one of Nigel's responsibilities is to bring new clients into the firm? It's particularly important at this moment, as I feel sure that now the war is over, they will soon be offering him a partnership."
Major Trentham didn't try to hide his incredulity at this piece of news. "If that is the case, he should be making more use of his own contacts—preferably the ones he made at school and at Sandhurst, not to mention the City. He shouldn't always expect to fall back on his father's friends."