Free The Four Graces by D. E. Stevenson Page B

Times .”
    Addie’s next letter was full of Aunt Rona. Aunt Rona had asked Addie to lunch at her flat. Aunt Rona had called at the office, looking terribly smart. Aunt Rona had taken Addie to see a play, introduced Addie to her hairdresser, and bought her a new hat.
    The others were amused at this sudden infatuation, but Sal was not. Sal had delved more deeply into her memory and discovered bits and pieces of Aunt Rona, which, put together, made an unpleasant sort of picture. A picture that was all the more disturbing because it was so vague. She had a curious feeling of unease when Aunt Rona’s name was mentioned.
    This being so, Sal was not really surprised when one fine morning the station taxi (from Wandlebury, of course) drew up at the Vicarage and deposited Aunt Rona on the doorstep.
    â€œAunt Rona has come!” cried Sal, putting her head around the kitchen door.
    â€œAunt Rona!” exclaimed Tilly in amazement.
    â€œHas come,” said Sal, and with that she smoothed her hair with both hands, tucked her pullover neatly into her waistband, and sallied forth to meet the guest.
    Aunt Rona was standing on the step beside her extremely handsome pigskin suitcase. She was saying in a loud firm voice, “I have been here before, my man, and the fare is seven and sixpence.” Then she turned and saw Sal and held out both hands. “Ah, Sarah!” she exclaimed. “It is Sarah, isn’t it?”
    â€œYes,” said Sal, taking her hands and shaking them, and hoping that Aunt Rona would not expect to be kissed.
    â€œWe know each other, don’t we?” said Aunt Rona gaily.
    â€œYes,” said Sal.
    Aunt Rona was ugly. She was very dark, with a big mouth, full of very white teeth; her eyes were large and deeply set; her nose was unusually prominent, but she knew how to dress, thought Sal, noticing the neat black coat and skirt, the crimson scarf and hat to match, the elegant patent leather shoes and fine silk stockings. Sal remembered now exactly when and where she had seen Aunt Rona.
    â€œI have been bombed,” declared Aunt Rona. “I have had all my windows broken. You see before you a refugee. Yes, refugee—I had absolutely no idea where to go or what to do until dear little Adeline suggested Chevis Green.”
    â€œI’m sure Father will be very pleased,” said Sal, trying to make her voice sound reasonably convincing.
    â€œI shall pull my weight, of course,” said Aunt Rona, sailing into the hall and leaving Sal to follow with the pigskin suitcase. “I am no passenger, Sarah. It is wartime and we must all do our bit. Only the other day I was saying to Sir Teal Mallard—a very dear friend of mine—we must all do what we can to win this war. Where is your father, Sarah?”
    â€œHe’s busy,” said Sal a trifle breathlessly, for the case was heavy. “We never disturb Father in the morning unless it’s something important—” She hesitated and stopped, aware that this might have been put in a more felicitous way.
    â€œOf course,” agreed Aunt Rona. “I used to stay with the Goslings. I daresay you know his books. Highly improper, of course, but most diverting. Egbert Gosling always shut himself up every morning from nine to one and nobody dared to go near him. On one occasion when the drawing room curtains caught on fire, poor Alice rushed into the study and Egbert threw the ink pot at her.”
    â€œLike Luther,” said Sal, in a dazed voice. It was a foolish thing to say, but she had so much on her mind. She must find Tilly and arrange about food. Cheese and eggs for lunch—would that do, or would they have to open a tin of Spam? Why didn’t Tilly come and help? Tilly was probably in the linen cupboard looking out sheets for Aunt Rona’s bed—hemstitched sheets of course—and (Goodness! thought Sal) Aunt Rona must have the back room, because William couldn’t possibly