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The sun'll come out
Tomorrow
So ya gotta hang on
'Til tomorrow
Come what may
Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
I love ya Tomorrow!
You're always
A day
A way!

Tomorrow / Annie

Previously…

Previously…

‘Ah, last cake eh? Not want it, gels? All right, I’ll finish it orf. Can’t abide waste.’

Without giving us time to reply, she picked it up with practiced ease and ate it with as much relish as a female praying mantis would when eating her hubby. I began to wonder about the fate of Sir Tremaine. We just sat there, watching her with fascination as the éclair did a disappearing at down her regal, pearl encased throat.

‘Well,’ said Lady F, ‘that was delicious.’

‘Thank you for the tea,’ said Abby.

‘Yes, thank you very much,’ I chipped in.

‘Think nothin’ of it. Like company sometimes. Fifi is good in her way, but not much good with conversin’. Jenkins, of course will only speak butlerish, the maid, of course is a non starter and and I get so bored with the local Women’s Institute crowd, always talking about bakin’, flower arrangin’ and crotchet.’

She stood up and went over to a table, picked something up and brought it over to me.

‘Got this in the post. Know anythin’ about it?’

She handed me a letter. It had Lady Fairbairn printed on the envelope and had been delivered by hand. My heart went cold when I saw it and my head started pounding.

‘Open it, then?’

With shaking hands, I opened the envelope and took out the single sheet. With a deep dread, I unfolded the sheet and read the contents.

Samantha Smart is an impostor. Do you really want someone like that living in the cove?

A well wisher.

Promptly, I was sick all over the highly polished parquet floor and my head started spinning. As everything went black, I could hear Abby screaming, ‘SAMANTHA!’

And now the story continues…

I wakened to silence. It was quiet, darkish, and I was in bed. As soon as I cracked one eye open I became aware of something strange. Apparently I had been teleported to Hogwarts. My bed was a four poster with nets and drapes all over it–obviously not Harry Potter in style, more Hermione Granger–and I was sunk deeply in the most comfortable bed that I had ever lain on–or is that in? Also, I don’t know how many ducks had sacrificed their modesty to fill the wonderfully soft pillows, but I really appreciated their loss because my head felt like it was cradled by a fluffy cloud.

I shook my head and it hurt a bit, chasing away the rather confused thoughts to which I had awakened. I propped myself up on my elbows and tried to take in my surroundings. The room was large, pleasant, old and chock full of furniture which would make an antique collector drool and reach for his cheque book.

I raised the covers and looked down. Apparently, I must have been undressed by people or peoples unknown, because I was now wearing a long cotton and lace nightdress, circa young Victoria in style. I was quite tired so I let the covers fall back and I rested my head on the soft pillows again. It didn’t take a great deal of detective work to realise that I was in one of Lady Fairbairn’s bedrooms. As I drifted off–or orf as Lady F would say–I wondered in passing if the good lady herself had changed me and if so, did her normally stiff upper lip quiver at the site of a certain appendage?

I awoke once more to the sound of heavy curtains being drawn back by a girl in a maid’s outfit straight out of a French farce. She was sniffing as if she had a cold and mumbling to herself.

It was morning and the birds were twittering enough to raise the dead. They were ordinary birds and not seagulls and I assumed that this house had a seagull exclusion zone around it as they and Lady F didn’t seem to like occupying the same space. I was rambling again but was with it sufficiently to realise the fact.

The maid turned to me and saw that I was awake. Approaching, she gave me a smile. ‘’Ello, Miss, awyke are we?’

‘Yes thanks.’

‘Thank gawd fer that, she said that you must be awyke soon else she’d go and fetch the undertyker ’erself.’

I looked at her as she sort of straightened the heavy bedcovers. ‘You don’t come from Devon then?’ I stated.

‘Nah, Stepney me. Born and bred Londoner.’

‘What brought you down here then?’

‘Mu–Lady F, don’t tell her I called her that. She plucked me outa the orph’nage and brought me dahn ’ere.’

‘Did you want to come?’

‘Yus, she’s nice to me, though she does ’ave a bi’ of a go at me, sometimes.’

My interest was aroused.

‘What was wrong at the orphanage then?’

‘Well,’ she said conspiratorially, ‘I got in wiv a bad crowd. I was bullied, see and she is the pytron o’ the plyce. When she fahnd aht abaht it, ‘eads rolled and someone new like, was put in charge. But the other girls still didn’t like me as I was a bit of a tea leaf at the time––’

‘–Tea leaf?’

‘Yus–fief, y’know–any’ow, I pinched some of the girls’ money and tha’. I couldn’ ’elp it, I ’ad a bit of an’abit, see? I was into drugs and drink. But I sort of got ’ooked on it all and I needed money ter fund me ’abit. Anywye, I don’t do that no more as she’d ’ave me guts fer gar’ers if she caught me pinchin’ the spoons, like. So after coming out of the clinic, she took me on and I’ve lived ’ere ever since.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Sixteen an’ two monfs.’

‘And you like it here?’

‘Mmm, everyone’s nice. She sometimes goes off on one, but she’s still a diamond–’

The door opened and someone came in. I glanced up–it was Jenkins.

‘Sarah, how many times have I told you not to sit on the beds? Now off you go. Cook requires your help.’

‘Yus, Mr Jenkins.’ She said hopping off the bed, giving me a cheeky grin and rushing out of the room.

Jenkins had a slight smile playing on his lips as he shooed her out and then came over to me.

‘Hello, Miss. I hope Sarah wasn’t bothering you.’

‘No, not at all; she’s sweet–I think.’

‘How do you feel?’

‘Much better, thanks. I take it I did my dying swan act all over the floor?’

‘You could say that, Miss. We were all concerned about you and we, that is a footman and myself, took the liberty of bringing you upstairs and then Miss Abby helped get you undressed with Madam.’

‘Madam?’

‘Yes, Lady Fairbairn. She would like a word with you at some stage but I understand that the doctor is visiting again–she came last night–and so Madam will wait until the doctor has finished examining you before intruding upon your presence.’

‘Where’s Abby?’

‘Next door, Miss, she stayed up half the night and is now catching up on some much needed sleep.’

‘Sorry to be so much trouble.’

‘Think nothing of it, Miss. Are you ready for some breakfast?’

I realised that I was hungry. Having tossed my all, all over the parquet flooring yesterday had left me with a decidedly empty feeling.

‘I suppose I am.’

‘I shall bring up a tray. The doctor has advised that you stay in bed today.’

‘Erm, I need to use the facilities.’

‘Of course, Miss. The door is through there. Would you like Sarah’s assistance?’

‘No, thank you. I’m sure I can manage.’

‘Very well, Miss. I shall get your breakfast organised. If you need any help, just pull the cord by your bed.’ With a deferential bow of the head and a pleasant smile he left me.

I lay back down again for a few moments and then Mother Nature wouldn’t wait any longer and I reluctantly and, rather tentatively, got out of bed.

I was a mite light-headed so I held on to a bed post to steady myself. I assumed that I had some sort of bug, Asian flu or something and that was what was making me feel a bit weak in the knees and light headed. If it was Chinese flu, I pondered would it be called Kung Flu? Anyway, I quickly felt well enough to make my way to the bathroom door.

The bathroom–with its wall to wall marble and gleaming copper and brass everywhere–was decidedly imposing. The bath was one of those stand alone jobs with feet. Everything screamed quality and I appreciated the fine classic lines of the ornate ceiling. This wasn’t a bathroom where you spent a penny–it would have to be at least five pounds.

I did the necessary and then washed my hands like a good girl should. Checking my reflection in the large mirror over the double wash basin, I noticed that I looked a bit peaky to say the least. I just hoped that the washed out look was the new fashion. The bags under my eyes had their own bags under them and my tongue had a sort of white overcoat on. No wonder I felt a bit orf.

Mind you, I adored the crisp white cotton and lace nightgown because it made me look like one of those, frail, feminine heroines from those romantic novels–I must get a few for myself as I liked the tragic posture look and if you needed to be ill, it helped you look the part. I imagined Abby sitting next to my bed, wiping my consumptive and fevered brow and stroking my long hair, damp with perspiration, on the pillows–

I giggled at that. I must be getting better!

I made my way back to bed and gratefully got under the covers. Not a moment too soon, as there was a gentle knock on the door.

‘Come in.’

Jenkins opened the door, and Sarah followed him with a tray. Coming over, she gave me a chirpy or is that a cheeky grin.

‘’Ere y’are, Miss, get yer gnashers arahnd this lot!’

‘Sarah, please try to talk proper English, girl, and you should not say gnashers like that–’

‘–Sorry, Mister Jenkins.’ She didn’t look too sorry because she winked at me as she said it.

I sat up and the bed tray was put across my lap. Under the dish covers, I found bacon, eggs and sausages. I thought that I might feel a bit sick at the site of them but for some reason didn’t. There was also a small silver teapot and Sarah poured the hot tea into a dainty bone china cup like a professional.

‘There y’are, Miss. Get that lot dahn yer.’

‘Dahn? Oh, down, okay thank you, Sarah.’

‘’Sawright Miss, part of me job an’ that, innit?’

‘Sarah, not so much talking, if you please, I’m sure Miss Samantha does not want to hear you wittering on.’

‘It’s all right, Jenkins, she’s not doing any harm.’

‘I am sure that Madam would not agree. Right, Sarah, the grates need cleaning.’

‘Yes, Mister Jenkins,’ she said with a sigh and eyes raised heavenwards. I had to smile as when she was leaving, she poked her tongue out, behind Jenkins’s back, of course!

‘I will leave you in peace, Miss, just pull on the rope if you need assistance.’

‘Thank you.’

I tucked into the breakfast and managed to eat most of it, which surprised me because I didn’t think that I would eat so much. I finished drinking the tea and then put the tray aside. Lying down again I drifted off to sleep–

I awoke again with a bit of a start, feeling a hand on my shoulder, I looked up and I there was Abby!

‘Hello, love. How are you feeling?’

‘Okay. What time is it?’

‘About eleven.’

‘I’ve been sleeping again.’

‘Yes. Doctor Marcia is on her way and Lady F is downstairs.’

‘What happened?’

‘When?’

‘When I was carried up to bed.’

‘Never mind that. Everything’s okay. I just wanted to see you before the doctor came. I was worried about you.’

‘Why did I keel over like that and why do I feel as weak as a kitten and why is my heart hammering away–?’

‘Marcia will tell you when she comes, but you don’t need to worry, it’s not life threatening or anything, according to her.’

She kissed me on the lips, making my heart rate rise a few notches.

Just then the door opened and Jenkins came in.

‘The doctor to see you, Miss.’

‘I must get a butler,’ I thought, ‘I wonder if I could order one from Amazon or Tesco’s, I might buy one and get one free–’

‘I’ll leave you for a minute,’ said Abby, giving me another toe-curling kiss and leaving with a quick wave to Marcia as they crossed by the door.

Jenkins floated out and closed the door behind him as Marcia came over and looked down at me.

‘You look comfy,’ she said.

‘Mmm. I could get used to this,’ I replied, smiling, though inside, I was dreading what Marcia might have to tell me.

‘Right, I’m going to pull back the covers and have a quick look at you, okay?’

‘What’s wrong with me? Is it the flu or something?’

‘I’ll tell you in a minute, but it’s nothing that we can’t handle,’

She shoved a probe in my ear to take my temperature and I was kind of pleased that she didn’t stick it into another orifice. Then she checked my blood pressure and listened to my chest. After that she did a few other things which I’m not willing to talk about but did involve another orifice. She then covered me over again and sat down on the bed. I sat there, propped up, and waited for the verdict like one of the condemned.

‘Right, I think I know what it is, but first hold both your arms out straight.’

I did as she asked and noticed that my hands were trembling a bit.

‘Okay you may put your arms down now. A few questions. How’s your weight?’

‘Weight?’

‘Yes, gained any or lost any recently?’

‘I’ve lost a bit of weight, but I needed to.’

‘D’you know how much?’

‘About a stone, I think.’

‘Have you been eating all right?’

‘Yes, funny that my appetite has been good but I’ve still lost weight. I put it down to nerves. A lot has happened to me recently.’

She smiled. ‘I noticed. Have you been tired, out of breath and things like that?’

‘Mmm, I have, but once again I thought it was just down to what’s been going on.’

‘How is your heart?’

‘Pardon.’

‘Does it feel–different?’

‘Do you mean, like banging away a bit?’

‘Mmm.’

‘Yes it has. Stress does that, doesn’t it?’

‘Sometimes, yes. While you were in the land of nod last night, I took some blood. I haven’t got the results back yet, but I bet you the cost of that gorgeous dress in Next that I’ve been lusting after that I know the results.’

‘What is it? If you don’t tell me I’ll die of anxiety,’

‘Sorry, Sam, I can be a bit of a drama queen sometimes. You are suffering from hyperthyroidism; that is an overactive thyroid. Your intolerance to alcohol, heart rate through the roof, trembling hands, loss of weight and other things, all tell me that this is the cause of your problems. You will have to go to outpatients for a few more tests but I’m sure that my diagnosis is correct.’

‘Will I live?’

‘Yes, it’s rarely life threatening. We need to sort out some treatment for you urgently though, as you’ll feel grotty and it’ll get worse if not treated soon.’

She explained about what treatments were available, including radioiodine and, if it was very bad, surgery but somehow it made me feel better knowing that I didn’t have bats in the belfry, as it were, and was going to be okay.

She would, on confirmation of her diagnosis, prescribe some pills called Carbimazole which are evidently Thyrostatics, they help inhibit the production of the thyroid hormone and should help me feel better in the short term until a more permanent treatment was used.

‘Right,’ she said, ‘don’t worry, we’ll sort you out in three wags of a ferret’s tail. I have to shoot off now. Our computers have yet more viruses. Dean Clump, our computer man says that we need reformatting, whatever that means–it’s all geek to me. I wish I could give our computers a pill for these viruses!’

After I was left alone, I sighed with relief, I thought that it might be the big C, the way she was going on. Mind you, I had always been a bit of a hypochondriac and if I had a cold, it was at least double pneumonia with knobs on. So I had something that millions of others had and was treatable. That was okay. I could live with that.

After a bit Abby returned and we had a kiss and cuddle. She too was relieved that I was going to be okay and didn’t need to go and find anyone else to hitch up with (joke).

After a bit she left, promising to visit that evening. She had to sort out the moggies and meet a buyer down at the pottery. So I was left with my thoughts.

I had blocked out the horrid letter that caused me to swoon last night and also the fact that Lady F had helped get me undressed. Yes, I was wearing panties, but a bulge like that cannot be hidden very easily and I never did get the hang of tucking–it made my eyes water when I tried it once. So, unless she was blind, which I doubted, she must have seen the extras in my knickers. I sighed at the thought but before I could consider the ramifications, there was a knock on the door.

‘Come in,’ I called. My heart rate, already about two hundred beats a minute went into overdrive as Lady Fairbairn sailed into the room and came over to the bed.

She sat, on what was probably a Queen Anne chair, and looked at me. Bravely, I snuggled down a bit further under the covers and wished I had Abby or at least my little white fluffy rabbit to cuddle.

‘How’rye feeling?’

‘Tired but better thanks.’

‘Doc says you have problem with yer thyroid. Tricky buggers, thyroids.’

‘S—so I’ve heard.’

‘Mmm, cousin of mine had thyroid problems, spent half the time climbin’ up the walls, the rest of the time asleep.’

I raised my plucked eyebrows in surprise as she stood up and paced the room.

‘Have to apologise. Didn’t think when I showed you that filthy piece of rubbish. That’s my trouble. I jump in at the deep end and damn the consequences. Told Winston he shouldn’t smoke those damn cigars so much–didn’t get a Christmas card for two years–Sorry.’

‘Don’t be sorry, you––’

‘–I am sorry. I just thought that you would know what it’s all about, didn’t think about the consequences. Should have known that it was just someone tryin’ to hurt you.’

I looked at her as she sat down again. She actually had damp eyes and that made me feel worse if anything.

‘Look, Lady Fairbairn––’

‘–Call me Dotty, me friends always do.’

I had a warm feeling in my tummy after those words, but does she know about me? I wondered.

‘Look Lady––’ I got a laser beam gaze, ‘–Dotty. You need to know about me.’

‘’What about you?’

‘You must have seen when you helped undress me last night…’

‘Yes—yes, so what?’

‘You don’t mind that I still have, erm, male equipment?’

She looked at me with a piercing gaze that seemed to go deep into my soul.

‘Are you a gel or a boy?’

‘Gel…I mean, girl.’

‘That’s it then. Can’t abide people who don’t know who or what they are. It’s what’s inside that counts. Knew a bishop once who dressed–well never mind that. If you consider yerself a gel, that’s good, because we’re far superior to the men of this world. Men start wars, fight over nothin’ and try to keep women down, no, if you’re a gel then that’s good enough for me. Know who sent me that note?’

‘No, but I think that it might be my father-in-law.’

‘Men, I told you so, nothin’ but trouble. Where does this object live?’

‘London.’

‘Right, know Bertie Faversham, Home Sec, used to go to boarding school with me son. If the bloody Home Secretary can’t mobilise some forces to deal with scum like that, I’ll vote Green in the next election.’

‘You don’t have––’

‘–Yes I do. I have more respect for those damned moles in my garden than some small time hoodlum who thinks he can ride roughshod over me friends. Let yer sleep now, yer look more tired than Fifi after a walkies. Get some sleep, you can stay here for a few nights–do yer good and no one can get at yer here.’

She got up to go.

‘La–Dotty?’

‘Yes?’ she said turning back and raising an aristocratic eyebrow.

‘I think that you are very sweet.’

She smiled then and looked fifteen years younger.

‘Don’t tell that to young Sarah, she’ll take more advantage of me if you do.’

‘You wouldn’t sack her would you?’

‘I might, but as I adopted her she would still hang around making a nuisance of herself. Now get some sleep or I’ll send her up to pester you.’

‘Why is she your maid?’

She looked at me strangely.

‘She wouldn’t come unless she had something worthwhile to do and anyway, it keeps her out of mischief. Any more questions or can I go? I’ve had the sights fixed on me Purdey and I need to get some shootin’ practice on those damn’ moles.’

‘Okay, Dotty and thanks, I think you’re a real sweetie.’

‘Enough of that nonsense, gel, I’ll see you at Tea.’

With that she stalked out, leaving me with a rather pleasant feeling that I never expected to have.

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To Be Continued...

Please leave comments...thanks! ~Sue

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing, help with the plot-lines and pulling the story into shape.