Lucilla Drake was twittering. That was the term always used in the family and it was really a very apt description of the sounds that issued from Lucilla's kindly lips.

She was concerned on this particular morning with many things - so many that she found it hard to pin her attention down to one at a time. There was the imminence of the move back to town and the household problems involved in that move. Servants, housekeeping, winter storage, a thousand minor details - all these contended with a concern over Iris's looks.

'Really, dear, I feel quite anxious about you - you look so white and washed out - as though you hadn't slept - did you sleep? If not, there's that nice sleeping preparation of Dr Wylie's or was it Dr Gaskell's? - which reminds me - I shall have to go and speak to the grocer myself - either the maids have been ordering things in on their own, or else it's deliberate swindling on his part. Packets and packets of soap flakes - and I never allow more than three a week. But perhaps a tonic would be better? Eaton's syrup, they used to give when I was a girl. And spinach, of course. I'll tell cook to have spinach for lunch today.'

Iris was too languid and too used to Mrs Drake's discursive style to inquire why the mention of Dr Gaskell should have reminded her aunt of the local grocer, though had she done so she would have received the immediate response: 'Because the grocer's name is Cranford, my dear.'

Return to Jackie's homepage