And the dog was not the only problem Maisie had taken on. She had left Robert Miller in the hands of the police, who planned to transport him to the local cottage hospital where he would be safe from falls and have his meals prepared and served—and he would be available for further questioning. However, if Lady Rowan agreed, as soon as he was allowed to do so by the police, he would arrive at Chelstone until other accommodation could be secured, and would stay at the manor. In Maisie’s estimation, making such an arrangement was the least she could do.
In truth, she had been grateful for the presence of Robert Miller, because discussion regarding his well-being and where he might live when he left the cottage hospital distracted the police, and drew attention away from herself. Her interview had been cursory, and she’d kept in mind something that Frankie once said when bargaining for a horse. He’d let the trader think he knew little about horses, and wove a story about once buying a bad one, interjecting, with an air of innocence, observations that could knock a little more off the price every time he pointed at this or that part of the horse. When he at last held out his hand to the trader, shaking on the price he’d wanted to pay in the first place, he winked at his young daughter. “It’s often wise to let people think you know a lot less than you do,” he’d said as he led the horse back to its stabling under the dry arches of Waterloo Bridge.
“Sorry I’m late,” said Maisie, coming into the kitchen. “Oh, Anna, shouldn’t you be in bed by now?”
Anna said nothing, but Maisie thought she saw the hint of a smile on her face: a curl at the side of the mouth, and eyes that seemed less dull. The child continued to sip hot milk from a red china mug. Her small case was on the chair by her side, along with her gas mask.
Brenda lifted her chin towards the door, indicating she wanted to speak to Maisie out of earshot of the child, though they remained in the kitchen.
“We expected you earlier, so we told her she could stay up until you came home—we thought it would cheer her up.” Brenda kept her voice low. “As soon as she walked in from school, she went looking for you—she never said, but we knew because she went straight for the library and then the conservatory, and it’s only ever been you and Dr. Blanche who used those rooms.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Brenda. I wasn’t able to telephone you, but—”
“Oh, my—I’ve only just noticed it! Whatever have you brought home?” Brenda started, placing a hand on her chest. “That’s a very big dog!”
Maisie began to explain, watching Anna as she recounted the story to Brenda—though she omitted to reveal the true circumstances of Emma’s predicament, only saying her owner was troubled and therefore unable to care for the dog.
Anna had slipped from her chair and approached the dog, not gingerly, but as if she already understood the respect required to offer friendship to an animal. She was only a little taller than the dog’s head, but she put her hand up to stroke the animal, who turned and licked the child’s ear.
“There’s still a little light to the day, Anna. Shall we take her for a quick walk down to the paddocks, let her know where she is?”
“Yes, and you’ll have a chance to tell your father you’ve brought back another stray. He’ll be back soon with Jook,” added Brenda.
Anna reached for the lead, which Maisie relinquished. And as Maisie opened the kitchen door, she exchanged glances with Brenda and nodded towards Anna’s small case, which she appeared to have forgotten as soon as Emma entered the house.
The child was silent as they walked along the gravel path down to the paddocks in the grainy late-evening light. Soon Maisie saw her father in the distance, walking towards them with Jook by his side. She waved out, and when Frankie saw she had a dog with her, he called out, instructing Anna to release the lead and just let the dogs get to know each other.
“They’re both old girls,” said Frankie, coming alongside Maisie and Anna. “And while I always say it’s a fight between two bitches that will go to the death, I think these two will be all right—they’ll sort themselves out. And you can tell me what that big one is doing here.”
By the time they reached the back door of the kitchen, Maisie had recounted the gist of the story, leaving out the more confidential aspects of events that led to her bringing the Alsatian home. Anna walked ahead, her hand laid upon Emma’s withers, while Jook remained between Frankie and Maisie.
Later, after Anna had finished her now-cool milk and gathered her case, Maisie took her upstairs to her room. She stepped outside while Anna changed into her pajamas—already she understood the girl’s need for privacy—then returned to tuck in the bedclothes. She moved to leave the room, switching off the light as she began to draw the door closed.
“Emma.” The word was uttered in a whisper, to herself. “I love Emma.”
Maisie knew it was a pronouncement. Emma would be her dog. And indeed it was outside Anna’s room that Emma slept that night, despite protestations from Brenda, who said it was bad enough having a dog in the kitchen, let alone two, and now one of them shedding hair all over the upstairs carpet.
Maisie came back into the kitchen, smiling, and was about to speak when she saw Brenda and Frankie exchange glances.
“What is it?” said Maisie.