"But, my dear mother, it's only half-past six; you can't get up at this hour!"
"There's the kitchen fire to light, darling, and I want you to have a really hot bath by half-past seven."
Joan groaned. "Go back to bed at once," she ordered, giving her a gentle push. "I'll light the kitchen fire; this is ridiculous!"
4
It was the middle of July; only a few weeks more and then freedom. "Freedom, freedom, freedom!" repeated Joan to herself in a kind of desperation. "I'm going to be free at last." But something in her shrank and weakened. "No, no," she thought in terror. "I will leave her; I must."
She sought Elizabeth out for comfort. "Only a few weeks now, Elizabeth."
"Yes, only a few weeks now," repeated Elizabeth flatly. They went on with their plans with quiet stubbornness. They spent a day in London buying their furniture on the hire system; the selection was not very varied, but they could not afford to go elsewhere. They chose fumed oak for the most part, and blue-grey curtains with art carpets to match them. Their greatest extravagance was a large roomy bookcase.
Joan said: "Think of it; this is for our books, yours and mine."
Elizabeth smiled and pressed her hand. "Are you happy, my dear?" she asked doubtfully.
Joan flared up. "What a ridiculous question to ask; but perhaps you're not happy?"