Page 45 of The Sapphire Child
‘You are amazing, dear girl. No wonder my brother is so admiring of you and your family – no doubt you keep his hotels shipshape.’
There were only three artists in residence over the summer: Dawan, a young bearded man called Mac, and Walter, a student from Glasgow who hammered away making furniture in one of the outhouses. Stella enjoyed their company at mealtimes but each was absorbed in their work during the day. Time hung heavily and Stella worried about Andrew. She had heard nothing from him and neither had Tibby.
‘I’m sure it means he’s having a lovely time in Durham,’ Tibby assured her. ‘I wouldn’t expect a thirteen-year-old boy to waste a moment of his holiday writing letters to his aged aunt.’
Stella had sent the airmail letter to Esmie that she had written in the small hours of what had turned out to be her last night atTempleton Hall. Now she wondered whether that had been wise. What could Esmie do at such a distance? It would probably have been better just to wait till their return – or write from the boat to give warning – rather than let Esmie and Tom stew over the revelations.
After a week at The Anchorage, Stella decided to write to Hugh. She had tried to push him to the back of her mind while she dealt with her new surroundings and situation, but he had lingered at the edge of her thoughts. It would give her something pleasurable to do and she began to indulge in daydreams about how they might meet up in India after his furlough.
One evening, she took out her writing case and settled down at the table in her bedroom window. She couldn’t find his letter. Panic seized her. She took everything out of the small attaché case, but the letter wasn’t there.
Overcome by a sickening feeling, Stella realised she must have left it in the attic bedroom at Templeton Hall. She had slept with it under her pillow but had been so tired the morning she had left and had had to pack up so quickly that she’d forgotten to retrieve it. How could she have been so careless?
Stella determined to go round to Templeton Hall and get Lily to let her into the house to search her room. Hopefully, Lydia and her mother would still be away on holiday.
Borrowing a bicycle from Tibby, Stella cycled over the next morning, buffeted in a strong wind coming off the sea. The sky looked laden with rain clouds. To her relief, there was no car under the portico and the blinds in the conservatory were pulled down. She wheeled the bike round to the back entrance.
The kitchen door was locked. Perhaps the servants had been given leave while Lydia and her mother were gone. Stella knocked but no one came. In frustration, she turned to go, and then remembered that Miss MacAlpine kept a spare key tucked under a stonebehind a rain barrel. Stella retrieved the rusty key and triumphantly let herself into the house.
The range was still lit so someone was keeping an eye on the house. Stella crept up the back stairs and into her room. To her dismay, her bed had been stripped and the blankets bundled into the mothball-smelling chest; a sure sign that she wasn’t expected back.
Quickly, she searched under the bed and moved the chest of drawers in case it had slipped out of sight. Nothing. Perhaps Lily had found it while clearing the room and had hung onto it for safekeeping.
Hesitating for only a moment, Stella went into Lily’s room. Just as she was beginning to search, she heard a creak on the stairs. Dashing out of the room she came face to face with a startled Lily.
Lily screamed. She clutched her chest. ‘Whit a fright you gave me!’
‘Sorry!’ Stella cried, turning pink with embarrassment. ‘I didn’t mean to.’
‘You been in ma room?’ Lily accused.
‘I was just having a quick look. I’ve lost a letter – the one that came for me the other day. It’s special. I thought you might have found it and kept it for me.’
Lily leaned up against the wall to catch her breath. ‘So it was you that left the door unlocked – I was afraid we had burglars.’
‘Oh, Lily, I’m so sorry. Come and sit down.’ Stella steered the maid into her bedroom.
‘I’m glad it was just you, lassie,’ Lily said, calming down. ‘I hate been in the hoos all by ma sel’. Cook’s away for the coming week, seeing as the mistress and MrsTempleton aren’t coming back for another fortnight.’
‘Where have they gone?’ Stella asked.
‘Durham. Staying near Andrew.’
Stella’s insides twisted. ‘Have you heard how he is?’
Lily shrugged. ‘When the mistress last spoke tae Cook, she said Andrew was having the time o’ his life. Likely he’ll be there till the end of his holidays.’
Stella felt resigned. ‘That’s good, if he’s happy.’
Lily eyed her. ‘So what did you dae to mak’ the mistress tak’ against you, Stella? She was in a bad fettle when she left.’
Stella sighed. ‘I was sticking up for MrLomax and Esmie.’
Lily nodded. ‘I mind when they were friends – the mistress and Miss Esmie. She was a kind sort, Miss Esmie – and Captain Lomax was a handsome man. We all liked him too and the mistress was happy in those days.’
Rain spattered against the skylight and Stella knew if she delayed any longer, she’d get a soaking cycling back.
‘Lily, did you find my letter from Dublin?’
