Mrs. Tim of the Regiment Read Free

last night.
    Visit Aunt Ethel to see if she has all she requires, and find that she has brought her own eiderdown, pillow, and sandbags for door and window. Also that the mysterious sounds heard by Tim and self during the night, and at first attributed to burglars, and afterwards (doubtfully) to the next-door cat, must have been Aunt Ethel moving her bed into a less draughty corner. Express much sorrow and solicitude for lack of amenities in the spare bedroom. Aunt Ethel replies that it is high time that Timothy and I had a comfortable home of our own. Agree fervently and hopefully, but nothing more is said on the subject.
    Aunt Ethel then Rises and Descends (only capital letters can adequately describe her movements), and announces her intention of departing southwards directly after luncheon, instead of at twelve o’clock, as previously arranged. Rush frantically to the kitchen to counterorder hash and milk pudding, and to substitute cutlets and mashed potatoes, tinned peas and banana fritters for our midday meal. Katie, decidedly annoyed at the alteration in menu, says that the butcher has been, and I shall have to telephone if I want cutlets.
    Children come in with wet stockings, which they declare are perfectly dry. Both exceedingly naughty when I insist on stockings being changed. No time to bring them to a better frame of mind, as Aunt Ethel is sitting alone in the drawing room.
    Shortly after this Aunt Ethel goes upstairs to pack, and rings her bell three times for Annie to come and strap her boxes. Am told on enquiry, that Annie is ‘washing her face’, so the only thing to be done is to go upstairs and strap boxes myself. Whilst I am engaged on this Herculean task, Aunt Ethel regales me with details of the ménage of a certain Mrs. Hunter, who lives near her at Greenvale and runs her house perfectly with one maid.
    It is all a matter of organisation, Aunt Ethel says. Mrs. Hunter arranges every detail herself and plans every moment of the day. Mrs. Hunter never glosses over mistakes, she expects things to be perfect, and they are perfect. (Feel convinced that if I expected anything of the kind it would merely lead to disappointment.) Discover that Mrs. Hunter is – as I thought – a childless widow with unlimited means.
    Rolls Royce drives up to the door after lunch and waits for half an hour while we all hunt for Aunt Ethel’s bag, which is unaccountably missing. Aunt quite frantic, as her passport and money are contained therein. She pins Tim in a corner and asks in a penetrating whisper how long we have had the servants, and whether he is quite certain they are honest. At last she says in despair, ‘I can’t go until the bag is found.’ Everyone immediately redoubles efforts to locate bag. It is eventually run to earth beneath Aunt Ethel’s pillow, where she now remembers she put it last night for safety.
    Annie has had no time nor opportunity to ‘make down’ bed this morning, but considers this a blot on her character, and is heard announcing audibly to Katie that she ‘ does believe the old lady done it on purpose to show her up.’
    In the midst of all this turmoil Tim whispers to me that he has just seen the doctor’s car pass, and that he is sure to charge double in his bill after seeing the Rolls standing at the gate. Murmur something soothing.
    We all go out and watch Aunt Ethel being hoisted into her car by her efficient chauffeur, and wave enthusiastically as she glides off down the road.
    â€˜Thank God!’ says Tim devoutly.
    Betty enquires in an interested voice why Daddy is thanking God, to which Tim replies with admirable presence of mind that it is because the wind has gone down and Aunt Ethel will have a calm passage.
    Third January
    Decide to take the children to church. Bryan, slightly aggrieved, says he ‘thought it was the holidays’. Best to pretend I have not heard this remark, but must remember to speak seriously to him