Free Tom All-Alone's by Lynn Shepherd Page A

standing very close – ‘any history of, shall we say, similarly distressing disturbances of mind in Mr Maddox’s near relations?’
    â€˜Absolutely not.’ The response is as quick as a reflex. If there is something – a half-memory, half-suppressed – then Charles gives no sign. He turns again to Stornaway. ‘Abel, would you mind seeing Mr Boswell out, please? And Mrs McLeod, perhaps I could speak to you for a moment?’
    The old lady has been standing by the window, twisting the dish-cloth in her hands, but now she grips the arm of one of the elbow-chairs and sits down heavily, glancing fearfully every now and then at Maddox, who has started to whimper to himself. Charles may be angry with her for meddling, but he cannot deny that she should never have been expected to handle his uncle alone. A few moments later Stornaway reappears, rather out of breath.
    â€˜I’m so sorry, Mrs McLeod. I had nae idea. He’d seemed biddable enough when I left.’
    Mrs McLeod shakes her head fretfully. ‘He took against the veal. Heaven only knows why, he always liked it well enough before. I had it sent in special from that chophouse he’s so partial to. It’s a crying shame he never married,’ she continues, ‘then he’d a’had someone to care for him in his old age. Or mebbe a son or daughter of his own.’
    Charles is not so sure; he remembers Maddox saying on more than one occasion that most of the people he knew would have done far better to leave marriage alone, and yet when his other long-serving assistant had married – rather late in life – hebought the couple a little cottage with a plot of garden, and sent George Fraser off to a happy if rather dull retirement in Walworth. He was always nothing if not generous to those he cared for. And it’s remembering that which decides Charles now.
    He goes over and sits down next to her. ‘Mrs McLeod,’ he says kindly, ‘I’m sincerely grateful for everything you’ve done for my great-uncle, and very much aware that I should have been here more often myself, these last weeks. But that, at least, is going to change. That officious doctor was right about one thing: Mr Maddox needs constant care, and I cannot possibly ask you to undertake such a heavy task – I gather from Stornaway that you have troubles enough of your own.’
    A nod here, and the glisten of a tear.
    â€˜So, this is what I propose. Tomorrow morning I will give notice at my lodgings and have my belongings sent here. There’s a perfectly adequate suite of rooms upstairs which will do very well for me, with a little soap and water.’
    â€˜Oh, I can do that for you, Mr Charles,’ she says quickly.
    He smiles. ‘That would be very kind, but I would be even more grateful if you could help me find a valet for Mr Maddox, and a maid-of-all-work to cook and clean. There’s plenty of room in the servants’ quarters downstairs, and that way there will always be someone at hand if Mr Maddox should feel unwell.’
    He is, he knows, descending to as much euphemism as the wretched doctor did, but he cannot really see any alternative.
    â€˜I’ve never had a servant, so I haven’t the faintest idea how to go about hiring one, but I’m sure you’ll know exactly what to look for. And I would be extremely appreciative, needless to say,’ he adds hurriedly, hoping she understands what he means.
    Mrs McLeod seems to be regaining her composure; her hands finally stop their nervous fluttering and she folds the dish-cloth and lays it neatly in her lap.
    â€˜I’d be happy to do anything as will help put things to rights, Mr Charles.’
    One problem solved, then, but Charles now has another, though it’s at least a full minute before he notices it. It’s only when he glances across at Stornaway, fidgeting by the door, that he realizes that what has come as a relief to