Free Dreaming Out Loud by Benita Brown Page A

Davies standing over her.
    ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.’
    ‘Don’t worry, dear. It gave me time to pop out and post the letters and then to make a pot of tea.’ She made one of those graceful gestures again, this time in the direction of her desk, where there was now a tray with a teapot, a milk jug, a sugar bowl and two cups. Kay looked at them and smiled in recognition.
    ‘You’ve noticed my Royal Albert?’ Miss Davies looked pleased.
    ‘They’re very pretty. I know someone, an old friend, who has the same set.’
    ‘Old Country Roses. I like nice things. Just because I work in a dreary office doesn’t mean that I can’t have a bit of luxury to cheer my day. As a matter of fact, this set was a gift from Lana – your godmother. She said I deserved it for putting up with her for so long.’
    ‘Putting up with her?’
    ‘Mr Butler has been her solicitor for many years.’ The secretary paused as if there was something else she could have said. This left Kay a little puzzled. ‘Now, milk and sugar?’
    ‘Yes, please.’
    Miss Davies poured the tea, and after giving Kay her cup she took her own and sat down behind her typewriter. ‘I’ve booked you into a respectable guest house as you requested. I think that was very wise of you, and it’s just in the next street to where we will be going. May I suggest that you go to the guest house now? I’ll give you directions. Have a rest, then I’ll meet you for a late lunch at Domino’s and take you along to the house this afternoon.’
    ‘Don’t I have to see Mr Butler?’
    ‘No, dear. Mr Butler is in court this morning, but in any case, he’s happy to leave this sort of thing to me. He’ll be in the office after lunch if there’s anything you want to ask him. Do you know, I’m trying to think who you remind me of . . . you have dark hair and yet your eyes are blue . . . no, it escapes me. Wait . . . I know – the red coat . . . Scarlet O’Hara, that’s it! Or I should say, Vivien Leigh. Has anyone ever told you, you look like the film star Vivien Leigh?’
    Kay smiled. ‘No, not Vivien Leigh.’
    ‘You say that as though there is someone else you remind people of.’
    ‘Not people. Just one person in particular.’
    ‘Who, then?’
    ‘Miss Gulch.’
    Miss Davies frowned. ‘A film star?’
    ‘A character in a film.’
    ‘A well-known film?’
    ‘Very.’
    The secretary’s eyes widened as light dawned. ‘ The Wizard of Oz ! Miss Gulch, the Wicked Witch of the West! How cruel. You don’t look anything like her and—’
    ‘My face isn’t green!’
    Kay laughed and Miss Davies looked at her uncomprehendingly. ‘Whoever it was, was teasing you, yes?’
    ‘Yes. And she’s a very dear friend.’
    ‘How can she be when she thinks you look like Miss Gulch?’
    ‘She doesn’t think I look like her. It’s the shop’s bicycle. The way I ride the bicycle when I’m in a hurry. I’m sorry; it isn’t a bit funny if you don’t know the circumstances.’ To her dismay Kay felt her laughter turn to tears.
    ‘No, dear, it isn’t. Do you need this?’
    Miss Davies opened a drawer in the desk and took out a clean white handkerchief. She held it out but Kay shook her head.
    ‘No, it’s all right. I’ve got one in my handbag . . . somewhere.’ Kay fumbled in her shoulder bag, and as she encountered biscuit crumbs and torn grocery lists she wished that either she had cleaned it out, or better still, bought a new bag to match her new shoes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said as she dabbed at her eyes and wondered whether the mascara she had applied so hastily that morning was holding up to the challenge.
    ‘Don’t worry, Kay. May I call you Kay?’
    ‘Please do.’
    ‘And you must call me Moira. I remember when I first left home and came up to London. I was only seventeen and I’d never been away from home before.’ Miss Davies sat back in her chair and closed her eyes for a moment, lost in thought. Then,