'Uncle Ross always leaves it there,' Tracy said simply. 'If he and Mrs Climp are out.'
'Mrs Climp?' Emma connected the name with the housekeeper after a moment. 'Which flowerpot, do you know?'
'Of course,' Tracy said scornfully. 'I've stayed here before, haven't I? Last summer. For a week, just me on my own. It was great.' She led the way round to the back of the cottage, bent and turned over the third pot in a little row beside the kitchen door. She straightened triumphantly with a key in her hand.
Emma sighed with relief. She kissed Tracy warmly. 'Good girl!'
Tracy wriggled, embarrassed. 'It fits the kitchen door,' she said.
Emma tried the key and was enchanted when it turned in the lock and the door swung open. Tracy slid past her and switched on the light. Emma blinked, half blinded by the sudden transition from dark to light. The kitchen was compact, modern, scrupulously clean and tidy.
'I'm starving,' Tracy declared, rummaging in the large white refrigerator.
Emma was alarmed. 'Do you think we should? As your uncle is out?'
Tracy stared at her. 'He can't expect us to go to bed starving… Beefburgers… great! And spaghetti!'
Emma gulped. 'At this hour? I could boil some eggs. I'm sure Robin and Donna would prefer them.'
Tracy giggled. 'Are you kidding? Robin loves spaghetti.' She tossed back her dark head. 'I'll grill the beefburgers and open the spaghetti while you fetch them from the car.'
Emma stared at her, stunned by this efficiency from one so young. Tracy was carefully arranging the beefburgers on the grill, her face absorbed, her fingers deft. T
hen she turned and began to open the tin with a wall can-opener. Emma shuddered, turned and went out to get the other two children.
They were still asleep. She wrapped Donna in the rug, lifted her over one shoulder and Robin woke up. 'I can walk,' he said sturdily.
They found Tracy busily arranging knives and forks on the table. A kettle hummed on the stove. Tracy had made toast with an electric toaster and Emma obediently buttered it at Tracy's suggestion. Her sense of humour made her want to laugh, but she firmly folded her lips together. Tracy was so very adult as she gave her orders. It would not do to undermine her sense of dignity.
Robin and Donna vanished briefly upstairs to the bathroom. They returned and took their places at the table. Emma made tea, found cups and milk, and Tracy began to serve the meal, her expression comically complacent.
Emma did not feel she could manage any spaghetti, but to appease Tracy's affronted feelings she had a beefburger and some toast. The children ate heartily and seemed to enjoy their meal. Tracy smirked when Emma congratulated her.
'I like cooking.'
'You like eating, you mean,' said Robin, his mouth full.
Tracy kicked him under the table and he yelped.
'I think you ought to turn in now,' Emma said hastily.
Tracy nodded. 'I know which rooms we were going to have—Uncle Ross said in his letter that I could have the one I had last year, and Donna could share with me. Robin's room is the boxroom and you can have Nanny's room, I suppose.'
Upstairs they found the beds already made up. Hotwater bottles lay on the bedspreads, so Emma went back downstairs to fill them, while Tracy helped Donna get into her pyjamas. When Emma returned she found all three ready for bed.
She bent to kiss the two girls goodnight. Tracy permitted her to kiss her cheek without enthusiasm, but Donna gave her a warm hug. She was a contented, cuddly little creature, eager for affection.
'Do you want me to leave the bedside lamp on?' Emma asked Tracy gently.
Tracy looked scornful again. 'Of course not! I'm not a baby.'
Donna was already half asleep, curled with her thumb in her mouth, her hair over her face.
Robin was right under his bedclothes when Emma went into his room. She hesitated, then went over to the bed. 'Goodnight, Robin,' she said.
His rosy face poked out, a bright round eye surveying her. He grinned silently. She gave him a quick kiss on his button nose, and he burrowed back under the bedclothes at once. She laughed, switched out his lamp and went out.
For a moment she stood on the landing. The children could be heard breathing in the silence— rhythmic, contented breathing, she decided with relief.