Page 13 of Mrs. Endicott's Splendid Adventure
Mavis gave a nervous little chuckle. “All right, then. But listen, I know I’ll be on the passport as your servant, but you make it clear to her I ain’t her bloody servant. And I’m not taking no nonsense from her.”
“I will.” Ellie had to laugh, too. “What a motley crew we’ll be. The Three Musketeers—all for one and one for all. I don’t know how we’re going to manage getting three of us and our luggage on and off trainsand ...” She stared out of the windscreen, watching the wipers sweep away raindrops, as the thought slowly formed itself in her head. “We could take the Bentley,” she said.
Mavis put her hand up to her mouth and let out a shriek. “What? Take your hubby’s car? He’d have a fit. He’d go bananas.”
“Well, why not?” Ellie said. “He was complaining the other day that it was ancient now and he should look into getting a new car. And he said I could have my share of our possessions. I’ll leave him a note saying that I am taking the Bentley in lieu of any other items that would rightfully be mine.”
“He won’t like it, Mrs E.,” Mavis said.
“He’ll just have to lump it,” Ellie replied. She and Mavis exchanged a delighted grin.
Chapter 6
Mavis’s name was added to the passport without a problem. People acquired new servants all the time. Encouraged by the way everything was falling into place, they stopped off at Barkers, around the corner from the little flat Ellie now owned, and she bought a summer dress for Mavis and a pair of navy linen trousers for herself. Lionel did not approve of women in trousers, so it made the purchase all the sweeter.
Ellie didn’t tell Lionel she planned to leave the next day, nor that she planned to take his Bentley. They ate dinner together—lamb chops, his favourite, followed by baked apples.
“Is Michelle a good cook?” she asked when he had complimented her on the dinner.
“I’ve actually no idea,” he replied. “We haven’t eaten that many meals together. But I expect she’ll learn quickly. She has a splendid brain. Sharp as a tack. You’re leaving your cookery books for now, I take it. She’ll study them and be cooking in no time at all.”
She looked at him, almost fondly.Oh Lionel,she thought,you are in for such a shock.Of course she said nothing. She bade him a polite good night and went up to her room. Sitting at her dressing table, going through the familiar routine of cold cream on the face and placing the hairnet over her hair, she noticed how old she looked. Old and strained and tired.
“What you need is fresh air and sunshine, my girl,” she said firmly to her reflection. “You are doing the right thing.”
“God, I hope so,” she answered herself. Then she realized there was something she had not yet done, had put off, kept putting off because it seemed so final. She removed her wedding ring, struggling to pull it off. It came free and she stared at it, lying smooth and gold in her palm.Thirty years,she thought. Then she opened the small jewellery case she was taking with her and popped it inside.
In the night she lay awake worried that he’d decide to take the car in the morning. Or that he’d have a fit when he found she had taken it—alert the police, get her stopped at Dover and brought back in disgrace. She told herself he couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. She had written a note that made her position quite clear:
Dear Lionel,
You will notice that I have taken the Bentley. I took your concerns to heart about me taking trains on the Continent, so the car seems so much easier. And you did offer me my share of our possessions. So consider the Bentley my share of everything that we owned together. You may keep all the furnishings, including the two paintings in the sitting room that came from my family and I understand may be quite valuable. Also the Queen Anne desk. And you did say you wanted to get a newer model car—now you can.
I hope you have a good life.
Yours sincerely, your former wife,
Eleanor Harkington (formerly Endicott)
Now that she was actually going to do the deed she fought back fear. Could she really do this? She had never really driven much further than Guildford, only five miles away. Even an expedition to London was a big adventure and required every ounce of her bravery. But takingthe car across to France, where they drove on the wrong side of the road—was she out of her mind to think she could do it? And travelling with two women she hardly knew. How was that going to work? Miss Smith-Humphries would order Mavis around. There would be tension, which Ellie hated.
“Why did I say yes?” she asked herself over and over. “Why on earth didn’t I do as Mavis suggested and take a nice safe tour?” Let someone else make the bookings and arrange the hotels and food and see that everything went smoothly. This was insanity. She sat up in bed, ready to tell the other women that she had changed her mind. She would not be going after all. But then she remembered ... Miss Smith-Humphries wanted to revisit a happy memory before she died. Mavis wanted to escape an abusive husband. How could she deny them their own share of happiness?
And she realized something else—this was the turning point in her life. If she didn’t take charge of her own destiny now, she’d become the pathetic, abandoned woman who kept cats and devoted her life to good works. She was absolutely not going to let that happen. Besides, those images of the Riviera were now all too vivid in her memory. All she had to do was to get there.
Fortunately Lionel did not want to take the Bentley. Breakfast went without a hitch; he took his bowler hat from the rack in the hall. “I’ll be off, then,” he said. “Goodbye, Ellie.”
He went to kiss her on the cheek, as he had done in their previous life, then remembered, gave an embarrassed cough and went out of the door. It was almost as if he had sensed it might be for the last time.
The moment he had gone, Ellie placed the note she had written on the table in the sitting room, beside his sherry decanter. Then she brought her hatbox and small suitcase downstairs. Mavis arrived with a small suitcase of her own.
“Well, I’ve been and gone and done it,” she said. “I left him a note like you said. I hope we’re across the Channel by the time he reads it, or else ...”
“We will be,” Ellie said. She looked at Mavis’s small suitcase. “Do we have to pick up your big bag from your house?”
“What bag? This is it, love. I don’t have many clothes, and most of them are only good for scrubbing floors.” She headed for the staircase. “Is your trunk up there? Come on, then, let’s get it down and get going before I decide I need my head examined and change my mind.”
It was just after nine when they pulled up outside Miss Smith-Humphries’s cottage. The old lady was waiting for them. She came out dressed in a black tailored suit with a fox-head fur draped around her shoulders and a jaunty little black pillbox hat on her head. As she approached the Bentley, her face broke into a smile. “Oh, you’ve brought your maid with you. So sensible. I was wondering how we’d manage the luggage. Mine’s in the front hallway, my dear. Be careful with it, won’t you? It is rather heavy.” This was directed to Mavis with a wave of the hand.
