“Oh! Well, yes, I am, as it happens, Mrs Ives—I am addressing Mrs Ives, aren’t I?”
She nodded.
“Oh, jolly good. But I’m afraid I’m in need of more than some liquid refreshment. Fellow at the motor garage said you might be able to provide some accommodation while he fixes my car?”
She beamed. “Of course, sir. Let me just get out of this apron and I’ll show you to a room.”
Arthur gave an awkward smile of thanks. “Sorry to interrupt you in your work, Mrs Ives,” he began, but she cut him off.
“Oh, no trouble at all, sir. Now, how long will you be wanting to stay?” she asked, bustling up the steep staircase in front of Arthur, who had stepped aside in deference to her sex. Nanny had been a stickler for that sort of thing.
“Ah, well, I’m afraid I can’t say for certain. Depends rather on how long it takes friend Goodman to fix my motor. Rather clueless about the things myself, I’m afraid,” Arthur told her with a self-conscious little laugh.