Free Ann Granger by The Companion Page A

omelettes.’
    ‘The ham will be enough,’ I told him.
    ‘I’ll cut you some,’ he offered, leaping to his feet, grabbing the carving knife and beginning to hack copious amounts of meat from the bone until I begged him to stop.
    ‘I am beginning to learn something about the running of the household,’ I told him, when we were both seated and he began to eat again. ‘So the Simmses, husband and wife, hold the position of butler and cook—’
    ‘Mrs Simms is cook-housekeeper,’ said Frank indistinctly. ‘She’s a stickler for being called that. She runs the place and she runs poor old Simms. Veritable dragon, our Mrs Simms.’

    The thought of the impassive and hugely dignified butler being organised by a virago of a wife amused me. I was curious to meet Mrs Simms and wondered if she ever left her kitchen lair.
    ‘There are also a couple of housemaids,’ said Frank vaguely, ‘couldn’t tell you their names.’
    ‘I have met one called Wilkins.’
    ‘Then you have discovered more than I have. Wilkins, is it? I’ll wager a pound to a penny the other one is called Perkins. Those are housemaids’ names, in my experience.’
    ‘And a little scullery maid called Bessie, a charity child.’
    ‘The mushroom!’ declared Frank, setting down his knife and fork. ‘You must mean the skinny urchin I see scurrying in and out of the basement; wears an overlarge bonnet and a white apron. The creature looks just like a mushroom that has acquired a pair of feet, something even Mr Darwin didn’t think of. So it’s called Bessie, the mushroom, is it?’
    ‘Is she …’ I corrected him. ‘Are those all?’
    ‘All except Nugent, that’s another formidable woman. Not a bad old girl, though.’
    I was a little annoyed by Frank’s cavalier way of talking of the staff who cared for him and his aunt. But I gave him the benefit of supposing he had been taught no better and meant no unkindness by it.
    The door opened and an enticing aroma of coffee heralded Simms who having put down the silver pot enquired if I wished a hot dish from the kitchen.
    ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘But the ham is quite sufficient for me this morning.’
    It was more than sufficient. I was struggling to get through it. Frank had served a generous helping and I had not quite recovered from last night’s dinner. To watch Frank eat, one would have believed he’d starved himself for a week.
    ‘No kidneys, I suppose, Simms?’ he asked the butler wistfully.
    ‘I shall enquire of Mrs Simms, sir.’

    When the butler had left us, I glanced at the long case clock in the corner of the room. ‘What time do you have to be at your Foreign Office desk, Mr Carterton?’
    ‘Oh, see here,’ he said. ‘You will call me Frank, won’t you? You are my Uncle Josiah’s god-daughter and so we are almost cousins, of a sort.’
    ‘All right,’ I agreed.
    ‘As to my desk, I have been given the morning to allow me to visit my tailor.’
    ‘Visit your tailor?’ I couldn’t help sounding startled.
    ‘Yes, to order a set of clothes for Russia, you know. Followed by a visit to my shoemaker. I have been advised to wait until I get there to buy winter boots. If one goes hunting in the winter snows, it seems one needs felt boots. Sounds odd, don’t it? But leather soles stick to the ice. That’s what they tell me, at any rate.’
    ‘I shall be sorry not to see you in the Russian snow in your felt boots, Mr—I mean, Frank,’ I said drily. I couldn’t help it. The image was quite out of keeping with the spoiled young man-about-town sitting across the table from me.
    ‘One can hunt bears,’ Frank informed me. ‘I’m looking forward to that.’
    ‘Bears? What would you do with a bear if you shot one?’
    ‘Why, eat it. They tell me bear steaks are very good eating. So is bear soup, but I don’t fancy that. Bear steaks might be jolly.’
    I put down my knife and fork, partly because I could eat no more and partly because I could not put up with any more of