"She was only a young girl."
"Old enough to be married. By the way, Elsa, do you remember when we went into the forest? You told us about Hunter's Moon and all that."
"That was a bit of rubbish just to amuse you girls." "Well, you were right that time. We met a man and he got to know Lydia afterwards. He married her."
"You don't say!"
"Rather strange, wasn't it?"
"And then her to die like that. Skiing did you say? I shouldn't have thought she was a one for that sort of thing."
"No, her husband must have changed her."
"Oh, Miss Grant, this is a bit of a shock for me. Of course it's a long time since I saw her ... Fancy you meeting her brother like that. It must have been a shock for you."
"A terrible shock. I saw Monique ... you remember her? She told me about Lydia. Lydia hadn't written to me."
"Oh dear, it's all come about in a funny sort of way ... You not knowing and all that. But what I really wanted to ask you about was Eugenie. I heard they had the doctor to her. What did he say?"
"Nothing serious. It seems she's prone to biliousness."
"Oh. I'm glad. It was her having it before made me wonder. Weakening, that sort of thing."
"Yes, but Eugenie's young. It's just that something must be upsetting her. We'll find out what it is and put an end to these distressing attacks. It happens now and then."
"I'm sure it does. I'm glad it's nothing serious. I began to wonder ... And it's a terrible shock about that Lydia."
"Yes," I said, and went into my room.
November had come, dank, dark and gloomy. Aunt Patty wrote that the Markhams had asked us to spend Christmas with them. She thought it would be a lovely idea. "A sort of Dingley Dell Christmas, dear. Can't you imagine it? Teresa, of course, is included in the invitation."
I thought of it. It would be pleasant. When I told Teresa she clasped her bands in ecstasy.
"Oh do let's go. Do let's."
I was still smarting from my encounter with Jason and I thought how peaceful it would be on the Essex farm, and impulsively I wrote back to Aunt Patty and said we must accept.
I felt I was being drawn closer and closer to John Markham. It was true what Jason had said-he would not be impulsive. His life would be orderly, lived on an even keel; and after the events of the last months, that was a state of affairs which seemed very inviting.
We were busy at school. There was what Eileen called the usual Christmas fever. All the anguish about who was to play in the pieces we were doing: Romeo and Juliet and The Merchant of Venice. Eileen said she wished Miss Hetherington would show a little of the quality of mercy and instead of giving us two extracts concentrate on one.
"The Merchant would have been ample," she said. "And I am surprised that dear Daisy thinks that the sight of Juliet quafing the draught which is to send her into a trance is suitable for impressionable girls."
It seemed that rehearsals were going on all the time and it was more like a theatre than a school.
"It pleases the parents and we'll do it the day before break-up," said Daisy. "However, we'll have a show two weeks earlier to make sure it is all right for Parents' Day."
Eugenie had another attack in the middle of the night. We didn't take much notice. We were used to those attacks now. It was just something that did not agree with her.
"We must find out what it is," said Daisy. "It seems the poor child has a weak stomach ... nothing serious. When we discover what is causing these upsets we shall be able to stop them."
Eugenie seemed to take the attacks lightly, for two days later she was playing Juliet with great verve.
There was an atmosphere of Christmas in the town. The shop windows displayed goods and invited people to shop early for Christmas. Mrs. Baddicombe had a special window full of cards and had white cotton wool on strings like beads hanging down to give an impression of falling snow.
When I went in, she said: "Do you like my window? Christmassy, don't 'ee think? And how is it up at the school now? Getting ready for the break. Mind you there's a whole month to go yet."
I said we were all well and I hoped it was the same with her.
"We're that busy," she said, "and likely to get more. How's that Miss Verringer? I heard she was very poorly. That maid up there ... she said the poor girl was very ill, and she wouldn't be surprised if she were sickening for something."
"That's nonsense. She just has a weak stomach, that's all."
"Weak stomachs can be a sign of something worse ... according to that maid of yours ..."
"What maid?"
"The foreign-looking one. Oh, she's not really foreign but there's something different about her. Elsa ... is it?"
"Oh I know. She talked about Miss Verringer, did she?"
Mrs. Baddicombe nodded. "If you want my opinion, she's upset about her sister going off like that. Nobody's ever heard where she be to, have they?"
"I daresay she'll be bringing her husband home in due course," I said.
"It's to be hoped she's got one."
"Mrs. Baddicombe, you shouldn't ..."
"But you know what men are. Or perhaps you don't. But you'll find out." Her eyes twinkled. "Soon, I shouldn't wonder."
I found all my resentment rising against her. I did not want her inventing illnesses for Eugenie so I hesitated and said: "Miss Verringer is quite well. We haven't any anxiety about her health."
"Well nobody could be more glad than me to hear that. If you ask me that girl ... what's her name ... Elsa? ... I reckon she's a bit of a gossip."
I couldn't help smiling and Mrs. Baddicombe went on: "She's not a bad-looking girl. I think she's got someone tucked away ... in foreign parts, I reckon."
"What do you mean ... tucked away?"
"I reckon she's over here saving up to get married. She's always writing to someone ... and it's a man. I've seen the name on the envelope when she's sticking on the stamp. A Mr. Somebody ... I couldn't quite see the name. Well, it's not easy upside-down. I said to her I said in fun like, "Oh, another love letter eh?" and she just smiled and wouldn't say a thing. When you think how she'll come in here and talk ... But some can be close about themselves though ready enough to talk of others. But I know there's somebody. She's always writing to him. And he seems to be on the move a bit ... sometimes it's one country, sometimes another. I have to look up the cost of the stamp. France ... Germany ... Austria ... Switzerland .. . all of them places. Last time it was Austria."
"Perhaps she has lovers in all those places," I said.
"No, it's the same one ... as far as I can see. Sometimes she'll get the stamps and don't put them on at the counter. Then I am in the dark."
"How perverse of her."
"Well, that's life, ain't it? You'll be going home soon I expect. Nice for you."
I bought my stamps and came out.
I always felt there was something sinister about that abnormal curiosity of hers. The idea of checking up on the stamps people bought and not only speculating about the recipients of the mail but discussing it with anyone who came into the shop!
Towards the end of November it started to snow.
"They boast in this part of the world that they only see snow once in seventeen years," commented Eileen. "This is two years running. We must be approaching another ice age."
The girls enjoyed it. It was fun for them to be cut off for several days. From our windows the ruins looked like something out of another world-ethereal and delicately beautiful.
"I wish the wind would drop," I said. "When it blows from the north it makes queer whining noises like souls in distress."
Eileen said: "It must be all those monks rising up in protest against old Henry who destroyed their Abbey."
"That's no reason why they should complain to us," I pointed out.