Read The Girls in Blue for Free Online Page B

breath from Rita made them all turn to look at her. She shook her head. ‘That settles it. I’m off to London on the first train.’
    ‘There’s no need to panic, my dear,’ Maggie said firmly. ‘The last I heard she was in hospital after having had a stroke.’ She smiled at Rita who was staring at her open-mouthed. ‘However, she might be feeling better by now, so come with me and we’ll make a few phone calls. You mustn’t worry. We’ll soon sort this out.’ She put her arm around Rita’s shoulders. ‘George, look after Miranda. Perhaps she’d like to help you in your laboratory until Annie has time to make us something for lunch.’
    ‘I’m going to need more potatoes, Maggie,’ he said plaintively. ‘I can’t find any in the outhouse, and I’m hungry. What time is lunch?’ He sniffed the air. ‘What’s that awful smell?’
    ‘Burnt ham, dear. I’m afraid the last piece of Percy was cremated.’ Maggie held up her hands. ‘Not my fault, I assure you. Anyway, I sent Annie to get the girls’ luggage, but she shouldn’t be long. She’ll rustle something up when she gets back. In the meantime a rock cake will tide you over. I made them this morning .’ Maggie ushered Rita out of the room without giving him a chance to protest.
    He took a cake and stuffed it in his pocket. ‘I do miss poor old Percy. He came in very handy on baking day. It’s fortunate that Annie is a good cook or we would all be thin as laths and Percy would have expired from apoplexy.’
    ‘Oh, Grandpa,’ Miranda said, chuckling. ‘That’s very wicked. You know that Granny tries her hardest.’
    ‘Yes, it’s very trying for all of us. I’d been looking forward to a nice piece of boiled ham.’
    ‘At least the hens are laying well, and Annie makes a lovely omelette. I’d offer to help but cooking isn’t my strong point.’
    He grinned. ‘You take after your grandmother in that.’
    ‘I know, but I haven’t had much chance to practise. Maman does all the cooking at home, or rather she did.’ Miranda struggled against an overwhelming surge of emotion. She had tried not to think about the dangerous path that her mother had chosen to follow, but it was proving hard to keep up the pretence that all was well and that this was just another summer holiday by the sea. She took a deep breath. ‘Will you show me what you’re doing in the laboratory?’
    ‘Of course I will, and I must get Elzevir to pick up a fresh supply of potatoes from the farm. At least they aren’t on ration, not yet anyway.’ He made for the doorway. ‘I wonder if the hens will eat cake.’
    Miranda followed him out into the yard and round to the stable block, which now served the dual purpose of garage and workshop, or laboratory as her grandfather preferred to call it. He opened the double doors and went inside, beckoning Miranda to follow him.
    She hesitated in the doorway, taking in her surroundings with a degree of curiosity. This was all new. The last time she had been in this part of the stables it had been the disused tack room, but now it seemed to have been adapted for a completely different purpose. She watched with interest as her grandfather took his place at a bench littered with flasks, retorts, glass and rubber tubing and a couple of Bunsen burners. There was a pervading odour of gas mixed with an unfamiliar smell of something akin to alcohol or methylated spirits, she could not decide which. The floor was ankle deep in screwed up pieces of paper, potato peelings and pencil shavings. She walked the length of the workbench, trailing her fingers in the film of dust and wondering how he managed to work in such conditions. The area was lit by a single bare bulb and a little natural light, which had to struggle through windows caked with grime and festooned with a net curtain of cobwebs.
    While her grandfather busied himself with what looked like a large chemistry set, Miranda explored the part of the coach house that was now used to