‘If he succeeds, I would like to see the picture,’ said Mina, ‘if only to find out how I might judge it to be genuine.’
‘In the meantime, would you believe, he has tasked me with looking at all of Simpson’s stock of photographs. There are whole boxes of the blessed things in the attic. Duplicates, I suppose, or ones that were never collected. I am to compose a list of the names of the subjects which are written on the back. Some of the portraits are very old, and I feel sure most of the people depicted are long dead. But Beckler thinks he can sell them as mementoes to the families. If you were to see them, you would think them a dreary assortment. The gentlemen in particular. It is a perfectly horrid display of beards and I would be ashamed to own up to any of them.’
‘A beard is thought to be a very manly thing,’ Mina objected. ‘I admire a good beard myself if it is not over-large and tidily kept.’
‘One like Dr Hamid’s, you mean?’
‘Something of that nature.’
‘A large beard is only good to hide a weak chin,’ said Richard, stroking the blond side whiskers which were all that adorned his face. ‘And I think I have a rather good chin, which the world ought to see. But if I was to find that Miss Hartop detests beards, I will gladly grow one.’ He lay back on the bed again. ‘There must be easier paths to fortune. Are there no more rich widows in town? Do you know of any, Mina? They should be very old and easily flattered.’
‘Only Mrs Bettinson,’ said Mina, mischievously, naming a friend of her mother’s whose main pleasures in life were gossip and consuming cake. ‘But I don’t think she is looking for another husband.’
Richard winced. ‘Mrs Bettinson is a mountain I would rather not climb.’
‘Then your future is clear. You must either work for a living or marry Miss Hartop.’
Richard buried his face in the pillow and whimpered.
Mina had never given any thought as to whether Miss Cherry had nice eyes or not, but now that her brother had pointed it out, she supposed it must be true. When the nurse returned early the next day following an afternoon in the company of Mrs Phipps, she did so with a smile that brightened her whole face including her eyes, which did appear to be green, and assured Mina that her visit had gone very well.
‘At least that was my impression, but of course I have heard that the lady has in the past been considered hard to please so she may think differently,’ she added modestly.
‘I hope she enjoyed your readings.’
‘She did, very much. She particularly appreciated the portion on the domestic use of starch, which she asked to hear no less than three times.’ Miss Cherry took out the book, favouring Mina with an inviting smile, as if offering a great treat. ‘I will read it to you now, if you like.’
‘Thank you,’ said Mina, hastily, but I must reserve that pleasure for another time. Miss Hamid is coming here this morning to perform an oriental massage.’
‘Oh?’ Miss Cherry was taken aback. ‘Is that permitted?’
‘Yes, it is on the instructions and advice of Dr Hamid. But you need not remain here for it. In fact, I would appreciate it very much if you were to accompany my mother on a little excursion she has planned. She has been disinclined to venture out recently but feels a little stronger today. Her intention is to visit the shops in St James’s Street, and view the spring gardens in Old Steine. The fresh air will undoubtedly do her good, but I would feel so much happier if she was to be in sympathetic company, just in case it proves to be too wearying for her.’
Miss Cherry could do no more than put away her book and agree.
Mina did not mention this, but her mother, under the impression that Richard had been transformed almost instantly into an accomplished photographer, was considering paying an unannounced visit to his place of employment. It was therefore not entirely certain that the excursion would be an unqualified success, since it had the potential to reveal Richard’s lack of any knowledge of or competence in the art of photography, but Mina had seen him talk his way out of such situations before and she supposed that he would do so again.
Miss Hamid arrived bringing a large stout leather bag from which she extracted a gift, a bottle of the herbal fruit mineral water that Mina particularly liked. She also imparted some good advice. ‘There is too much emphasis on treating women as if they are made of something that will break if used,’ she said. ‘We need our vitality and our muscles just as much as men do, in fact sometimes I think we need them more. There are so many hard-working women and far too many idle men, who are only strong enough to lift a glass of beer but persist in thinking themselves the superior sex.’
She donned an apron, folded back her cuffs and made short brisk work of examining Mina’s limbs. ‘I am here not a moment too soon,’ she said. ‘Women should not lie in bed too long when they are unwell, or when their children are born, they should get up and walk. You have lost flesh which you cannot afford to lose, and I suppose you have not been allowed any exercise.’
‘No, that is quite forbidden. I am hardly permitted to lift a book. Your brother said that I am not to get out of bed unassisted, and then I should only travel as far as the armchair, which is not a long journey.’
Miss Hamid permitted herself an indulgent smile. ‘He means well, but he is a man. But he is right in one thing, you do need to take care. Work slowly and gradually, but you must work. I will show you some exercises which will firm your muscles, and which you can do very easily by yourself without any harm to your recovery.’
She pulled some fresh soft towels from her bag and laid them on the bed. They had the clean slightly spicy scent that transported Mina as if by magic back to the Baths, and its delicious vapours.
The simple act of being prepared for the massage was already making Mina feel better. She began to see the possibilities of writing a new story of adventure in which a humdrum item of textile was transformed into a flying platform by the application of special herbs and would take the inventor anywhere he or she pleased. Inevitably, since that was her usual way of thinking, she speculated on what might happen if the application dried out and lost its power during the flight.
The next item to appear from Miss Hamid’s bag was a bottle of massage oil. It was one of Mina’s favourites, sandalwood with hints of jasmine and other fragrant flowers, which both relaxed and invigorated at the same time. The masseuse carefully oiled her capable hands, and Mina nestled into the soft towels in pleasurable anticipation. ‘I believe we have a mutual acquaintance, a Mrs Vardy,’ she said. ‘Your brother told me that she attends the Baths.’
‘We do, although I only know her professionally,’ said Miss Hamid, smoothing the oil into Mina’s calves with firm fingers.
‘Oh, well of course I wouldn’t ask you to reveal to me what treatment you give her,’ said Mina, quickly, ‘I know that is confidential. But I am sure that what you do for her is very comforting. She has been very open with me about the trials she has to bear, and I feel that she deserves some peace.’
‘She does.’ Miss Hamid’s face clouded a little with concern. ‘I regret to say that certain of my clients have suggested to me that Mrs Vardy ought not to be admitted to the Baths in view of what they refer to as “her reputation”. I have made it very clear to them that there is no proof that she is guilty of any wrongdoing. Some persons really have nothing better to do with their time than imagine themselves to be better than others.’