Free Our Lady of Pain by Marion Chesney Page A

Friendly,” she said timidly.
    Phil suddenly smiled. “I didn’t recognize you at first. Come in. You look worried. Is everything all right?” He led the way into the front parlour.
    “Everything is very much all right,” said Miss Friendly, “but I need some advice.”
    “We’ll have a glass of sherry and you can tell me all about it,” said Phil. He poked the fire into a blaze and then fetched a sherry decanter and two glasses. “Sit by the fire,” he said. “What’s happened?”
    Miss Friendly took a nervous sip of sherry and told him about her inheritance.
    “You have no more worries,” said Phil. “You move into your aunt’s house and you’ll never have to work again.”
    “It’s just that I have this rather terrifying idea. Daisy—Miss Levine—once suggested that Becket, Miss Levine and myself should set up a dress salon. I have a talent for designing and making clothes. Then Becket said he did not like the idea and I am too timid to take on such an undertaking myself.”
    Phil sat deep in thought. He was a changed man from the poverty-stricken wreck the captain had rescued. He had thick white hair and a rosy face and kept his figure trim with frequent walks. He admired Miss Friendly. He thought she was all that a lady should be: genteel and shy.
    Then he began to wonder and not for the first time if Becket would ever leave the captain. There were times when Phil felt superfluous. He did a certain amount of housekeeping, but there was a woman who came round to do the rough work and it was Becket who answered the door to callers and who drove the captain.
    “What we should do,” he began and Miss Friendly gave him a shy smile, liking the sound of that precious little word “we.” “What we should do is make an appointment with those lawyers and put your proposition to them. You could sell your aunt’s house, and with the money buy premises in London. Then you would need to employ, say, two seamstresses to begin with. You’ll need a classy name.”
    Miss Friendly took a sudden gulp of sherry. “It could be an English name,” she said in a rush. “Like Marshall and Friendly.”
    “You mean I could be a partner?”
    “You could, couldn’t you, Mr. Marshall?”
    “I don’t really have any money, just a little bit of savings.”
    “But I have. I would need a manager.”
    “Bless me!” Phil grinned. “This is so sudden.”
    “I’ve thought about it a lot,” said Miss Friendly. “It would be a great deal of initial expense because we would need to have an opening fashion show.”
    “Tell you what,” said Phil, “give me the name of those lawyers and I’ll make an appointment.”
    Seagulls wheeled and screamed overheard as the duchess and her party boarded the Queen, which was to cross the Channel to Calais. “Going to be rough,” said Harry, looking out at the whitecaps of the waves.
    The duchess retired to a cabin as soon as they were on board. Daisy and Rose stood at the rail and watched the white cliffs of Dover until a screaming gale and a bucketing sea drove them back to the shelter of the lounge. Daisy’s head ached because the wind had torn at her large round motoring hat, which was secured by two large hatpins, and had nearly dragged it off her head.
    Becket and Harry had disappeared somewhere. Daisy looked at Rose uneasily. “I’ve never been in foreign parts before. What are they like, them Frenchies?”
    “Very like us.”
    “Have you been to France before?”
    “Yes, I went to Deauville once with my parents. Although I must admit all we really met were other English families.”
    Daisy lowered her voice. “They eat frogs.”
    “I am sure that’s just a story, Daisy.”
    “I mean, we’ve been at war with them.”
    “That was a long time ago. I believe French ladies are the epitome of chic.”
    The ferry lurched up one wave and down the next. “I’m going to be sick,” moaned Daisy.
    “Then we’ll need to go out to the rail. Let’s get on the leeward