A Brighter Tomorrow, Maggie Ford [types of ebook readers .TXT] 📗

to have a little talk with you. Do you like working here, my dear?’

‘Do it matter?’ she shot back at him. What did she have to lose? If he was about to get rid of her, it was best to come out with it and have done without this messing about trying to let her down lightly. It would add up to the same thing. As one who believed in straight talking, she was becoming impatient.

‘Just tell me to go and let’s get it over with!’ she said.

‘Go?’ He looked suddenly bewildered, the small eyes in the podgy features going a little blank. ‘No one is asking you to go.’

‘Then why did you want to see me if it wasn’t for that?’

‘Simply to ask how you feel about working here. I wondered, perhaps, if your brother might have put ideas into your head and given you second thoughts about working here?’

It was she who was now bewildered. There was a momentary notion that he was inviting her to leave of her own accord, saving him the painful duty. ‘I thought…’ she began.

‘That I intended to sack you?’ he finished for her. ‘Because of the incident with your brother?’

Ellie nodded. ‘He can be a bit… outspoken,’ she said, choosing a different word from the one that had first come to mind.

‘As you are, my dear.’ He waved away her instant protest. ‘Yes, you are. It is what I admire about you, child. My daughter, whom my wife and I miss so much and grieve for, was always too ready to give in to everything. An exceptionally placid child but with no real spirit, I regret to say, though I loved her dearly.’

His gaze dropped away from Ellie’s face, slanting sideways along some invisible, horizontal line, as if he were entering a world of his own.

‘There were times when I wanted to shake some vigour or courage into her – times when I would have rejoiced to see my darling girl fight back when hurt or wronged. Perhaps that was why she so easily succumbed to her failing health. If only she had fought, had refused to let herself be taken from us, she might still…’

The rest of his words fell away into a shuddering sigh, his obvious grief seeming to be getting the better of him. But, recovering with what to Ellie appeared to be a great effort, he turned his gaze back to her.

‘I take it you have gathered how very like you are to my daughter in looks, age, height, colouring?’ He said it almost belligerently, as if the apparent resemblance was her fault; but moments later his tone grew sad. ‘I must admit that I was taken aback that first time I saw you, but I realize now, you are very different in character and spirit. You are as I would have given thanks to find her.’

Again his gaze wandered. ‘It’s very strange. You so resemble my sweet Millicent in looks; yet your sister, who does not physically remind me of her despite being like you in looks, is like her in manner – meek, quiet, easily controlled. You will never allow yourself to be controlled by anyone, my dear.’

He was right there. Ellie lifted her chin. ‘But I’m not your daughter, am I, Doctor Lowe?’ she reminded him, momentarily forgetting herself.

The remark drew his eyes back to her. For a moment she thought he was going to bellow at her to get out, he looked so deeply stunned. But the expression faded and he nodded, letting out his breath in a small, silent sigh of defeat.

‘You were partially correct when you feared for your job here. My wife has been pleading with me to dismiss you. She says she finds it painful to look on you – that you remind her so of our daughter.’

‘If I’m ter leave, what about me sister? If I’ve got to go, she’s leaving with me. She won’t ’ave her stay ’ere without me.’

He smiled at her forthrightness, his brief weakness over his daughter put aside. ‘I have no intention whatsoever of dispensing with your services. I requested to see you to inform you that if you are happy here, I will seek a replacement scullery maid so that you may take up the duty of second housemaid. This house is quite large. Young Florrie is grossly overworked and she would welcome extra help.’

‘But what if your wife insists on me going?’

Doctor Lowe drew himself up in his chair. ‘I am the master in this house and have made up my mind. All I need to know is if you are happy working here. Now you may go, my dear, and tell Florrie the good news.’

Without waiting to be thanked, he leaned over and took up a pen to dip it into the inkwell nestling on its stand to his right, proceeding to write something down on the papers that lay before him, thus dismissing her.

Ellie had no intention of thanking him. She was aware of what he was about, and what he was about needed no humble demonstration of gratitude from her. Indeed, though she saw opportunities of making the most of this odd resemblance Doctor Lowe saw in her to his darling Millicent, she was also made vaguely uncomfortable by it. It seemed to verge on the obsessive if not the morbid; moreover it held an element of something unnatural – that was the only word she could find for it.

She thought suddenly of her father as she made her way downstairs, hoping not to meet anyone coming up. The way her father had carried on with her – that too had been unnatural. She loathed him for his vileness, his utter disregard of her feelings. Every time she thought of it, it was like a slimy worm inside her stomach, slowly writhing its way upwards to eat at her heart – a sick feeling whenever she thought of him and what he used to do.

What if Doctor Lowe had