The Diary Of Pamela D. Read Online Free PDF Page B

an outline as to
household routine, and where she is to fit in in the overall scheme
of things.’ Turning to Pamela, she said, ‘Well, my dear, I leave
you in Mrs. Pascoe’s competent hands. Come, Theo, tell me all about
your foray to Londinium.’
    ‘That’s the old Roman name for London,’ Susan
said with a smile as Pamela picked up her suitcase and they began
walking towards a sweeping marble staircase. ‘Mrs. D. is forever
showing off her useless university degree. So you’re Pamela Dee!
Fancy that! Now we have old Mrs. D. and young Miss Dee. Have you
been to England before?’
    ‘I’ve never travelled before,’ Pamela said,
glad for Susan’s direct, straightforward nature. ‘This was the
first time I’d ever been in a plane. Or a place like this. I still
don’t understand why Mrs. Dewhurst decided to take a chance on
me.’
    ‘We all of us have to start
somewhere,’ Susan said matter-of-factly. Once at the top of the
stairs they turned to the left and went down to the end of the hall
to the last door. Opening it, Mrs. Pascoe said, ‘Here we are. This
used to be . . . but never mind! This will be your room now. Old Mrs. Hamberly had
this room for a very long time, but she’s been gone for ages. She was Theo’s nanny,
and his father’s before.’
    But Pamela scarcely heard a word she said.
She had stopped just inside the threshold, and stood gaping.
    ‘Is something wrong, Miss? You look like
you’ve seen a ghost.’
    A ghost, no, but what she
beheld was so much like her old recurring dream that for a moment
she felt she had forgotten to breathe. On the far wall was a
leaded-glass door which opened onto a balcony that faced northeast.
To her left, just past the overstuffed bed was a walk-in closet. To
the right was a door which led to a shared bathroom. The furniture
stood as she remembered it- beyond her overpowering sense of déjà vu , it occurred to
her that she could only have dreamt that she would ever have the
use of anything like the dark mahogany dressing table, the cherry
wood cedar chest, the matching mahogany dresser, the magnificent
roll-top oak desk and Tiffany lamps and-
    ‘Perhaps you’d better lie down for a moment,’
Susan said, taking her arm. ‘You look like you’re about to
faint.’
    ‘No,’ Pamela muttered,
thinking of the sinister silhouette of a man at the door of the
balcony, who had come to her, had come for her. ‘Thanks, but I’ll be okay.
It’s just that the trip, and the change, have taken a lot out of
me. It’ll pass.’
    ‘If you say so,’ Mrs. Pascoe said, looking
anything but convinced. ‘Well, if you’re sure you’re up to it, take
off your coat and follow me.’
    They stopped at a closet
before reaching the kitchen. In it were uniforms, linen and other
items used by the mansion’s staff. Mrs. Pascoe selected a couple of
uniforms for Pamela to try on and took her to the kitchen. At the
sight of it Pamela sighed with relief. Unlike the rest of the
mansion, which looked as though it were made to be seen rather than touched,
the kitchen was as battered and utilitarian as that in the Catholic
Mission she had worked in.
    ‘And through here,’ said Mrs. Pascoe, leading
her through the kitchen to the back door, ‘is the staff dining
room.’ The long, narrow room was an obvious add-on built of heavy,
crude wooden planks; it was a drafty, pleasantly musty and cool
room, heated by a wood-stove. The room was dominated by an
appropriately crude but sturdy-looking wooden table which looked as
though it could seat at least twenty, or at need serve as a heavy
workbench. Around the perimeter of the room were wooden benches,
and at various points, between windows and to either side of the
back door, were mounted sturdy clothes’ hooks from which an
assortment of outdoor clothing hung. Through the tiny panes of each
window Pamela could see the fields and farm buildings beyond. She
found that she instinctively liked this room, and it must have
shown because Mrs.