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It was the first time she’d said anything ever about the twins, and she felt Crawford’s hard look on her as her fingers left the glass to fidget with the top sheet. It was a mistake to look at him then, but she felt as though compelled, and she saw in his eyes a look that held a world of meaning. A look that said when she was more able, he had a few words he wanted to say to her on the subject of not only the twins, but also about the way she had let him think what he had about Teddy.

She found the top sheet quite fascinating—or so it would appear as her eyes hurriedly left his to stare down again. The silence lengthened between them and she felt the discomfort of tension spring up within her once more.

Then Crawford was staying the restive movements of her fingers and picking up her hand, forcing her to spread her fingers back round the glass.

‘Drink it up,’ he ordered, and when her mouth would have formed a stubborn line, ‘There are five pints more in the fridge.'

Obediently Gerry took the glass from the tray. She had to believe what he said about the amount of milk in the fridge, because her legs hadn’t the strength to take her down to the kitchen to investigate for herself. And anyway, she had an idea she was going to need all her reserves of strength, for as she put the glass back on the tray after taking a very satisfactory swallow, her eyes met Crawford’s and she discerned a look in those slate grey eyes that was both severe and frosty, and she knew without being told that when she was well enough, he was going to say a few harsh and pertinent things to her.

There
were more surprises in store for Gerry than she would have dreamed of the next day when she refused to stay in bed any longer. It was about eleven in the morning when she decided, while haying to admit perhaps she had been a bit under the weather, that she was perfectly well now, and nothing was going to keep her in bed. She could hear movement going on downstairs, Teddy must be chasing round like a wild thing to cope with the housework and the twins, and a perfectly fit sister upstairs on whom she was waiting hand and foot.

Cautiously she began to get out of bed, conceding as it took a few moments for her legs to obey her that she might perhaps qualify that perfectly fit to
almost
perfectly fit. Shrugging into her dressing gown and with the help of the end of the bed, she began to make her way downstairs. It was a slower business than she had been prepared for, but with a couple of rests on the way, she made it to the bottom of the stairs and paused to straighten up, ready to say she felt fine if Teddy was in the kitchen and had any idea of telling her to go back to bed.

There was no sign of Teddy as she entered a kitchen she barely recognised. Gone was the clothes horse that always decorated the room. There was not a dish in sight —nothing on the draining boards of the sink—even the bread board had been put away. Feeling slightly as though she had wandered into someone else’s house, Gerry made her way slowly through to the living room. At the very least she expected to see some of the twin’s toys or clothing strewn over the settee, but everywhere was immaculate. Then just as she was about to begin calling for Teddy, though commonsense had told her she must be out, the back door opened and she turned to see a wiry-looking lady of about fifty come into the kitchen, clad in a blue and white checked overall, and holding a duster in her hand.

‘What are you doing down?’ the woman asked, coming into the living room before Gerry could formulate the question and ask who she was. Then the woman was taking over completely, and saying, ‘Come on, Miss Barton, let’s get you sat down before you fall down.’ Which was so much like something Crawford Arrowsmith had once said to her that Gerry’s tongue stayed firmly still as she allowed herself to be helped over to the settee.

As she felt the solid comfort of the settee beneath her, Gerry’s astonishment quickly evaporated, and she was able to ask, ‘Who are you?’

‘Didn’t they tell you?’

Gerry had no idea who ‘they’ were, but she felt strong enough now to find out. ‘They?’

‘Mr Arrowsmith and Mrs Wilson,' the lady said as if that was all the explanation Gerry needed. Then seeing from her expression, the way her face had grown severe at the mention of Mr Arrowsmith’s name, she went on, ‘Well, it was Mr Arrowsmith really, I suppose—I’m Mrs Chapman, by the way. Well, I put a notice in the post office window saying I was available for babysitting—my own little ones are bigger than me now, and with Charlie gone—Charlie was my husband,' she explained, and although her face didn’t show by a flicker of a muscle how much Charlie had meant to her, Gerry could tell from the way she said his name that he had been someone very special to her.

She wondered inconsequently if she would ever find someone very special in her life—she thought briefly of Robin, and knew with sudden clarity that Robin hadn’t been that person, and didn’t stop to think how she knew, when at one time she had thought he was everything she wanted out of life. Then she put these thoughts from her. She had no business thinking about anyone, special or not. Teddy would need her support for a good many years to come.

Mrs Chapman was absentmindedly rubbing her duster backwards and forwards across the mantelpiece as if she couldn’t bear inactivity of any kind, and went on with what she had been saying. ‘Anyway, Mr Arrowsmith came to see me about the babysitting, and asked if I knew anyone who could give a hand with some housework. Well, I liked the look of him,’ Gerry stifled her surprise at this busy little woman taking to Crawford on sight—her own reaction had been very different, ‘so I told him I could come for a few mornings a week and would come and keep an eye on the twins at the same time, and fill in on the occasional evening when you and your sister go out.'

Gerry tried to quell the panic that was growing within her as the implication of what Mrs Chapman was saying hit her. That she and Teddy never went out in the evenings was neither here nor there, but the colossal cheek of Crawford Arrowsmith to take it into his head to see they had some hired help was making her so angry she felt she would burst a blood vessel. She had to exert a great deal of control in order that Mrs Chapman should have no idea how her news had affected her. Then Mrs Chapman was asking, ‘Shall I make you a nice cup of coffee?’ and waited only for Gerry’s smile of acceptance of a cup of the only luxury they allowed themselves before she trotted off to the kitchen.

The noise of Mrs Chapman busy in the kitchen faded into the background as Gerry tried to come to terms with the problem she had just been presented with. Crawford Arrowsmith could have no idea of how far she had to make her salary stretch. Apart from the first priority of finding the rent each month, there was the ever-present nightmare of the daily household expenses—the twins were growing at an alarming rate, and while she was glad about that, it seemed they needed something new every other week. Any time now their cots would have to be exchanged for a couple of beds—where the money was going to come from she hadn’t yet been able to work out. And now, on top of that, she somehow had to find the money to pay for Mrs Chapman’s services. She shook her head as though to scatter her depressing thoughts, wondering how she could tell this lady who was now handing her a cup of coffee— coffee, if she was not mistaken, made with all milk—that after today they would be able to manage on their own.

‘Aren’t you having a cup?’ she asked, thanking her for the coffee and inviting her to sit down for a moment, though not looking forward to the coming interview. It annoyed her that she was the one to have to tell the willing Mrs Chapman that she was no longer needed. Crawford had been the one to hire her, he should be the one to fire her—not that he would be calling here again, but...

'I never drink coffee,’ Mrs Chapman broke in on her thoughts. ‘I had a cup of tea half an hour ago. I didn’t bring you one up because Mrs Wilson said you had to drink as much milk as we could get down you.’

From which Gerry gathered there seemed a campaign afoot to get her fattened up. She ran a nervous hand over the back of her neck, bringing her fingers round unconsciously to touch the fine area of her collarbone. Perhaps she didn’t have too much flesh on her bones at that. But it was difficult to adjust to being the one who needed looking after—and she didn’t feel she could take very kindly to it.

‘I won’t sit down, thank you, Miss Barton.’ Mrs Chapman picked up the duster she had left on the mantelpiece when she’d gone to make the coffee. ‘Since you’re down, I’ll pop upstairs and tidy round.’ And before Gerry could summon her back, she heard her going up the stairs.

Gerry wasn’t left on her own for long enough to think very clearly what she was going to say to Mrs Chapman when she came downstairs again. For within a few minutes of her disappearance she heard the squeak of the twins' pushchair—she must get round to giving it a squirt of oil, she was thinking—then Teddy was coming breezily through the kitchen and exclaiming on seeing Gerry downstairs on the settee.

‘I knew it!’ she said, and Gerry was struck by how lighthearted Teddy was as she came into the room, and couldn’t help but feel sad that if the cause of Teddy’s new lightheartedness was because they had some help in the cottage, she was going to have to take that cause away. ‘I knew the minute my back was turned you’d be out of that bed. How are you feeling?’

‘Mrs Chapman’s upstairs,’ Gerry began without preliminaries, wanting to get what she had to say over and done with quickly—she knew Teddy wasn’t going to like it.

‘Oh, you’ve met her—she’s a marvel, isn’t she?’ Teddy seemed completely unconcerned with regard to where they were going to get the money from to pay her, and looked round the room with a smile of content on her face. ‘I bet you didn’t recognise this room when you came down —she’s even .. .'

‘Teddy,’ Gerry broke in, and felt like weeping for what she was about to do to her sister. Teddy had been marvellous to her while she had been in bed—though she couldn’t remember too much about it—but Teddy had seemed to be there whenever she awoke, apart from that one time when she’d dreamed Crawford had been there. She stamped down determinedly on all thoughts but the matter which had to be discussed. ‘Teddy,’ she said again, feeling a helplessness suddenly that was alien to her, ‘we can’t keep Mrs Chapman, you know.’

‘We can’t ...’ She had Teddy’s full attention now, and hoped Teddy wouldn’t be too upset. She didn’t feel up to coping with Teddy in tears just now. ‘Why can’t we?’ Teddy asked quietly.

‘We simply can’t afford her.’ Gerry gave her what she thought was a very valid reason, and was amazed when Teddy took on the elder sister role and patted her arm placatorily.

‘Oh, if that’s your only reason forget it,’ she said soothingly.

Gerry didn’t know how Teddy could be so lacking in understanding, and thought perhaps she should have told ’her more of how far the money had to go; her only reason for not doing so had been because to know they were living almost on the breadline would have done nothing for the little confidence Teddy had. But here was Teddy calmly telling her to ‘forget it’, and she didn’t know how she was going to get through to her that Mrs Chapman was a luxury they just couldn’t afford.

‘I can’t forget it, Ted,’ she said gently. ‘Mrs Chapman’s wages ...’

‘Crawford’s paying,’ Teddy cut in to her utter amazement—the way Teddy had so easily brought out his first name causing her to wonder how well the two of them had got to know each other while she had lain in bed.

‘Crawford?’ she repeated, aghast. ‘Crawford Arrowsmith, you mean?'

‘He’s the only Crawford I know,’ said Teddy, beginning to look slightly uncomfortable at her sister’s staggered expression. Then gaining confidence, ‘Don’t worry, Gerry, it’s all right.’ She was back to being soothing again. ‘When you were taken ill it was obvious I wasn’t going to be able to cope on my own, and with Paul Meadows talking of sending you to hospital, and me feeling I’d be in the next bed with you if he did, Crawford took complete charge.’ She looked at Gerry to see how she was taking it—not very well, she saw. ‘Don’t get all uptight, love,’ she coaxed. ‘Crawford and Paul Meadows will have my hide if you have a relapse—you shouldn’t really be out of bed as it is.’

‘But, Teddy ...’ Gerry began helplessly, and saw Teddy’s mouth take on a stubborn line which she knew from experience meant she was going to clam up any moment at all now, and there would be no talking to her for hours.

‘Look, Gerry,’ Teddy said with a severity Gerry wasn’t used to seeing in her sister, ‘we needed help—and fast. Crawford supplied it—I know it goes against the grain for you to accept anybody’s help, but it doesn’t go against mine. Life has played some dirty tricks on me, and if somebody wants to give me a hand to ease a dull monotonous day—there’s no way I’m going to refuse it.’ Her expression softened as she looked at Gerry’s unhappy face, and she put her hand on her arm, saying earnestly, ‘Forget your pride for once, love—Crawford was only trying to help. And anyway,’ she added, the gentle moment gone, ‘we need Mrs Chapman, and if you don’t like that Crawford is paying her wages, take it up with him.’

Gerry knew she would take it up with him anyway— and pay him back the amount he had already paid Mrs Chapman. When she felt more up to it she would work out their budget again. Perhaps there was some economy she had missed—perhaps they would be able to afford Mrs Chapman for say two mornings a week. She doubted there was any economy they could make that they weren’t already making, she thought with a sinking heart. Even when she was well enough to take her own share in the household chores, she had a feeling Teddy would still want Mrs Chapman’s services during the daytime.

‘I’ll see him as soon as I get back to the office,’ she told Teddy quietly.

‘You’ll see him before that, I expect,’ said Teddy knowledgeably. .

‘Oh.’ She wondered what Teddy knew that she didn’t know, and wasn’t very long in being enlightened.

‘He’s been here every day since you were taken ill.’

‘He hasn’t?’ Gerry contradicted questioningly.