‘It is with deep regret that we hear of the terrible tragedy that has overtaken a Shields family on holiday on the coast of France. Mr Charles Buckham, his wife, three children and their nursemaid, Mrs Jane Connor, together with Mr Buckham’s brother are feared lost, after their yacht was caught in a great storm. Mrs Buckham’s body and that of one child were washed ashore, together with pieces of wreckage from the boat. There is little hope of any survivors . . .’

Mrs Jane Connor, nursemaid https://www.onlinecasinoitaliani.com/recensioni/gunsbet/.

Mrs Jane Connor, nursemaid.

He had said she was nursemaid to the Buckhams. Yes, yes, it was the Buckhams of Westoe. She knew him, Charles Buckham, and she had met his wife a number of times, and . . . and there couldn’t be two nursemaids by the name of Jane Connor.

He hadn’t said his wife had gone away, but then she hadn’t spoken to him for weeks, not since he had startled her by saying he was married. She was sorry, very sorry . . .

Was she?

Of course she was, it was a terrible thing. Could she go to him now and tell him? What time was it? She swung round and looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. Quarter-to-nine. It was still light, yet she didn’t know exactly where the place was; but it was on the waterfront and would be dark by the time she got there.

She found herself walking up and down the room. Her stomach was churning with excitement. She said again, ‘What a tragedy! A terrible tragedy. And those poor young children.’

She suddenly stopped her pacing and, dropping into a chair, bent her body forward until her breasts were almost touching her knees. She mustn’t make herself ridiculous; nothing had altered, things stood as they had done a few minutes earlier.

Slowly she drew herself up and, taking in deep draughts of air, said to herself, ‘You can call tomorrow morning. It will be quite in order then for you to go and offer your condolences. He’s in your employ and naturally you have his concern at heart. Go and have a bath now and go to bed; you can do nothing until tomorrow.’

She had a bath and she went to bed, but it was almost dawn before she finally fell asleep. And she was still asleep when the maid came in with her early morning tea at eight o’clock.

She hardly gave herself time to drink the tea before she was out of bed dressing, and at nine o’clock she left the house, presumably to go to an early service. She had informed Jessie that she wouldn’t need the carriage, it was a fine morning and she preferred to walk.