‘OK, Nick, ask her. We can fetch and carry her.’
When I went on Christmas Day to cut her Christmas cake for the current year, therefore, I took her a small present from Mary, me and the children, and then put the proposal to her.
‘Nay, Mr Rhea, I’m too old for that sort of thing — I’ve lost my touch now.’
But I could sense the wistfulness in her voice and began to convince her that she could do the job. I reminded her of her days organizing school dinners, her work in the country houses, her knowledge of food, her ability to get along with others … In time, she weakened.
‘Well, if you honestly think I could do it,’ she said.
‘I do, otherwise I wouldn’t be here, asking!’ I said.
She hesitated and then nodded. ‘I’ll do it,’ she smiled.
‘Right, I’ll pick you up at one o’clock,’ I said, and then explained the overall arrangements. When I called for her, she had changed into another frock, a pretty pink and blue one, and I saw she’d had her hair done too. This was clearly a very important outing. Her reserve was broken when one of the mums recognized her as her own dinner lady at school, and from that point, Gertrude entered the spirit of our party.
She organized the plates for the children, making sure none got two plates and that they all got a jelly and a beaker of orange squash. Her no-nonsense manner endeared her to the other women for she was a natural organizer, being able to spot the need for extra food long before it arose, keeping the children in order and ensuring that they all cleared away their own plates — just like they did at school. Afterwards, when Father Christmas distributed the presents, there was one for Gertrude, from all the children. I could see she was truly moved.
As I drove her home, I asked, ‘Well, did you enjoy that?’
‘Mr Rhea, it was lovely, the best Christmas I’ve had for, well, I daren’t say. I really did enjoy myself — and I know my grandad would have been pleased to see me there. And a present as well. It was really lovely, a marvellous day.’
‘We were all pleased to see you there,’ I said, for it was true. She had been marvellous. ‘So how about next year?’
‘If they’ll have me,’ she said.
‘They will,’ I assured her. I let her out of the car and helped her up the steps into her cottage.
‘Happy Christmas, Miss Midgley,’ I said, holding open her cottage door.
‘And you — and don’t forget to come next year!’ she reminded me, disappearing inside. ‘I’ll have another cake waiting.’
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Constable by the Stream (A Constable Nick Mystery Book 12) Page 20
