Promise to Obey Read Online Free PDF Page B

that damned contraption.’
    ‘Oh yes, you are. You’ll be surprised at how much support it gives. No need to tell anyone. Use it in secret if you like. Hide it in the bathroom. Give it a name. Call it Fred. Fred is a nice name. Unless you actually know someone called Fred.’
    Jessica saw a fractional quirk to the woman’s lips. It was the nearest Lady Grace ever got to smiling. She would never show that anything amused her. A bit like Queen Victoria. It wasslow progress to the bathroom, and once safely there, Jessica left Lady Grace on her own. She knew further help would be an insult to her dignity. She heard water running and thought it safe to leave her.
    Jessica took the tea tray down to the kitchen. Mrs Harris was busy preparing supper. She was a comely woman in her late fifties, with greying hair still tied back in the ponytail of her youth. Jessica could imagine her in the carefree flower power days, dancing to the Beatles barefoot in a long flowing dress with flowers strung in her hair and round her neck. Very rural and poetic. Mr Harris had been lucky.
    ‘I’m doing you and the master a cold buffet on the sideboard in the dining room, with a tureen of hot leek and potato soup. Will that be all right, Miss Jessica?’
    ‘Perfect. Is Mr Lucas still around then?’
    ‘He’s fiddling with the Austin, I expect. Making sure it’s all right for you to drive. He’ll probably give me a lift home if it’s still raining, though I’ve got my bicycle. I live in the village, you see. Dove Cottage, down by the green.’
    ‘I didn’t know there was a village.’
    ‘It’s called West Eastly which is the daftest name, proper Sussex, that is. We’ve got a lot of daft names. Some people collect them. It’s only a few houses and cottages, a church and a pub. The mobile library calls once a week. There’s a small grocers shop. My brother, Ted, runs the shop. You can get most things. Here at Upton Hall, we have a weekly delivery from that Avocado firm, ordered on the Internet. Newfangled shopping. How can you tell what you want from a photo?’
    Jessica moved over to the Aga and lifted her hands towards the warmth. It was raining in earnest again, large drops pelting onto the path, spurting brown earth.
    ‘Always ask me if you want a lift home, Mrs Harris.’
    ‘That’s real kind of you, miss. Thank you.’
    ‘And Lady Grace’s supper?’
    ‘I’m doing a tray of the same for her ladyship. It’s her favourite soup.’
    ‘I’ll help you carry it up.’
    ‘Thanks. I always hate carrying soup upstairs in case I spill any.’
    ‘Why not take it in a lidded jug and pour it out when you get there?’ Jessica suggested, seeing a bowl of hot soup sliding everywhere on a disaster course.
    ‘Now that’s an idea. Why didn’t I think of that?’
    ‘It’s an old hospital trick,’ Jessica grinned. ‘Hot soup is dangerous.’
    It was quite a procession taking supper up to her ladyship. Jessica privately adjusted the title to her battleship. Lady Grace was sitting in her chair, looking regal and triumphant. She had tidied her hair.
    ‘I shan’t be needing Fred,’ she said with a straight face.
    ‘He’s handy to have around,’ said Jessica, equally straight faced.
    Mrs Harris looked bemused but immediately began laying a small table which she lifted across to the armchair. A white lace cloth and silver cutlery appeared.
    ‘Your favourite soup,’ she said.
    ‘I don’t have a favourite soup,’ said Lady Grace, reverting to normal.
    ‘Leek and potato. You said it was your favourite.’
    ‘Pour, not talk, Mrs Harris. It’s getting cold. And please draw the curtains. It looks dark and miserable outside. I don’t want to look at it.’
    Mrs Harris did as she was told. Jessica wondered how long she had put up with her employer. Maybe work was hard to get in West Eastly. Or perhaps there was another reason she stayed. Some dark secret that she knew nothing about. Jessica thought about the possibility of a