Free The Rouseabout Girl by Gloria Bevan Page A

sideboard once again, reading correspondence. A little at a loss as to what to do, Lanie began to stack the plates together. All at once she realised Paula had come to join her. ‘I suppose you did have some references from the employment agency?’ The other girl’s strident tones were reduced to a whisper.
    ‘I didn’t come through the agency.’ The next moment Lanie realised she had g i ven herself away.
    ‘Where on earth,’ Paula asked sneeringly, ‘did Jard find you, then?’ The words implied, Lane thought hotly, that she had been scarcely worth the trouble of bringing here.
    ‘It wasn’t Jard.’ Lanie’s soft lips tightened. ‘Sandy offered me the job.’
    Paula's arched brows rose incredulously. ‘Sandy?’
    ‘That ’ s right.’ Lanie was clattering plates together . ‘I happened to meet up with him in town and he offered me the temporary work.’
    ‘That’s just like him. He’d fall for any soft touch. I suppose he was feeling sorry for you?’
    Lanie, however, had had more than she could endure of this inquisition. ‘I was sorry for him, ’ she flashed. ‘He was stuck for domestic help here, ’ so she threw the other girl a challenging glance, ‘here I am ! ’
    Paula’s mouth twisted with the derisive expression Lanie was fast coming to know. ‘You’ve never tried domestic work before, though, have you?’ Her glance went to Lanie’s soft hands. ‘ Office work would be more in your line.’ All at once her tone was urgent and demanding. ‘Tell me, why did you come here really ?’
    ‘Does it matter?’ Lanie left her and moved towards Sandy, who was enjoying a pipe from his deep seat near the fire. ‘The kitchen, please?’ she enquired with a smile. ‘Where is it?’
    ‘Down the passage and first on the left — come along, I’ll show you.’ Picking up a candlestick from the dresser, he led the way.
    ‘How long will the power cut last, do you think?’ She carried a pile of plates in her arms as she followed him out of the room.
    ‘Your guess is as good as mine. Could be an hour or two, could be all night. Here we are!’ He flung open a door and stood looking around him for a place on which to set down the candlestick.
    Lanie, peering over his shoulder, saw his difficulty only too well. For even in the dimness she discerned that dishes, pots and pans were flung haphazardly over every available surface. The kitchen looked modern enough, what she could see of it, for clearly Paula had concentrated her energies on her culinary efforts and left the cooking utensils to chance—and the new cook!
    ‘Helluva mess around here,’ Sandy said under his breath. ‘No use trying to do anything about it tonight, lass, not in this light. Tell you what—I’ll give you an early call in the morning. No need to put on breakfast until nine o’clock. You’ll have swags of time to whack things into shape by then.’
    Lanie gazed helplessly around her. ‘But — ’
    ‘Okay, then,’ he conceded, ‘we’ll take the things off the table and shove the dirty stuff in the sink, if there’s any room. No use hoping Paula will do anything about this lot. She’s not the sort to worry about things like that!’
    Lanie was eyeing the yellow-painted room. A massive deep-freeze cabinet ran along one wall, there was a refrigerator, a stainless steel sink bench beneath the clutter of food-smeared crockery. ‘Couldn’t we just put away the foodstuffs?’ she pleaded.
    ‘If you really want to.’ Together they carried out from the dining room milk, cream, sugar, cheese and biscuits. Sandy pushed it all out of sight in various cupboards. ‘You can sort it all out in the morning!’ he told her cheerfully. Lanie wished she felt as optimistic in the matter. Could this be the reason why the housekeeper had pleaded a headache? Lanie wondered. Really, one couldn’t blame her!
    Try as she would, Sandy was not to be budged from his edict. ‘Easy to cope with in daylight,’ he told her, ‘but not