The Shadow of the Sycamores by Doris Davidson

hesitated, his face flaming, his eyes held down.
    ‘Go on,’ Janet urged, softly.
    ‘She told me she had had enough of this place and I could jolly well do it myself.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘And she has … left me.’
    ‘When was this?’
    ‘Last Monday. So, you see, she will not be coming back.’
    Realisation of his target was dawning. ‘Who has been making the meals?’
    ‘The nurses and the maids have taken it in turn but some of the residents are beginning to complain and I do not blame them at the prices we charge.’
    ‘Have you tried to find a replacement – for the cook?’
    ‘I have tried but the agencies say no one is willing to come to a place like this.’
    ‘That’s terrible!’ Janet exclaimed. ‘The Sycamores is a very nice place.’
    ‘To people who know no better, it is simply an asylum, a madhouse, but you …’ He broke off but his meaning was quite clear now.
    There was a pause before Janet said, ‘You’re offering me the job?’
    ‘I am asking you to take pity on me, Janet.’
    His pleading eyes, his look of utter defeat, were not genuine but, although she knew she was being manipulated, she could not refuse him. ‘I’ll have to work my notice at Craigdownie,’ she said quietly.
    ‘How long?’
    ‘A month? I don’t know.’
    After thinking for a minute or so, Innes said, his voice low and caressing, ‘There is a way to get round that, you know.’
    Janet’s eyes showed her bewilderment. ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Your mother.’
    ‘What has my mother got to do with this? I want to take the job, Innes. I want to be where I can see her every day but I’ll have to work out my notice.’
    ‘Not if you tell your present employer that your mother is … dying.’
    ‘I knew it!’ she cried, apprehension widening her eyes. ‘I knew you had bad news but why didn’t you tell me right away, instead of …’
    ‘No, Janet, do not alarm yourself. Your mother is not dying. It was a suggestion – a way to make the farmer free you from any commitment. Do you understand?’ He waited, watching her changing expressions – perplexity, angry comprehension, doubt and, finally, guilt. ‘I canna,’ she muttered at last, her confusion making her forget that she had been trying to speak to him, a university graduate, in a more refined manner. ‘I canna tell a lie, nae a lie like that. Besides, it’s asking for trouble.’
    ‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘it is a lie but it is not malicious. It will hurt no one and benefit many – you, your mother, the residents and staff here and … me.’
    ‘But Mr Legge will be left without a cook.’
    He could see that she was wavering. ‘He, unlike me, will easily find another. Oh, Janet, please?’ He took her hand and squeezed it.
    The entreaty in his eyes, or maybe it was more than that, was her downfall. ‘I’ll try,’ she whispered. ‘I will try, Innes, but I can’t promise anything. He sacked Henry for taking some days off, remember?’
    Exultant now, sure it would work out as he hoped, Innes kept his voice on an even keel. ‘You said that he did not know of the grandmother’s death.’ His free hand slid around her waist.
    Savouring the thrill of it, it was some seconds before Janet pushed him away. ‘No, Innes. Don’t try to take advantage. I’m doing this for my mother’s sake and to help you out but don’t forget you are a married man.’
    His eyes darkening, he murmured, ‘I am sorry, Janet. I honestly did not mean to take advantage. I was merely expressing my joy at having my problem solved.’
    ‘It’s not definitely solved,’ she reminded him.
    ‘I have confidence in you, my dear, and, to prove it, I shall send my carriage to collect you and your belongings tomorrow afternoon, around two o’clock. That will give you time to prepare their breakfast and lunch and to do your packing.’
    ‘But … what if he won’t let me go?’
    ‘Unthinkable but, should the worst happen, you will have to send my groom away and I shall welcome