Mrs Peabody was staying in the Elysian’s best suite which was on the second floor. The sitting-room into which Daisy was ushered was bigger than two rooms in her own house, and lavishly decorated in white and gold. Irene Taylor waved Daisy towards a sofa. ‘Wait here, please.’
Left alone, Daisy picked up a magazine from the coffee table. It was Stars and Pictures, a film-fan weekly she often read. Daisy leafed through it. Oh! There was a new Frankenstein movie coming out. Daisy shuddered. She and George had seen Dracula a few months earlier and she had been scared stiff. George, of course, had claimed he hadn’t been frightened at all, but she knew that was bunk, she’d seen how pale he was when they filed out of the cinema! Daisy was engrossed in a story about the young film star Olivia Marlow, who’d been given the famous Blue Moon Diamond by her lover, the Prince of Luxenstein, when the door opened abruptly and a loud voice said, in an Australian accent, ‘So you’re the girl who’s come about the job, eh?’
Startled, Daisy dropped the magazine. She stared. She couldn’t help it. The woman who stood in the doorway was short and round as a butterball, and dressed entirely in green — a fashionable but ugly green silk pyjama suit, green slippers, a long string of green beads, and green-rimmed dark glasses. She was heavily made-up and on top of her bobbed red hair sat a kind of green turban. Peabody by name, peabody by nature, thought Daisy, with an inward giggle. She looks just like a big fat green pea bursting out of its pod!
‘Well? Are you going to answer, girl? Or looking to catch flies, with that open mouth of yours?’ snapped Mrs Peabody.
Daisy swallowed. ‘Sorry … Mrs Peabody, yes, I’ve come about the job, my name is Daisy Miller, and I …’
‘Oh, stop fussing. Come over here, let me see you properly.’
Nervously, Daisy went closer.
‘Hmm. Nicely turned-out, even if your outfit is not the best quality. Can’t afford better, eh?’
Daisy turned scarlet. ‘Mrs Peabody, I …’
‘No shame in that. Started out modestly meself. Married into money, ha-ha, would recommend that to any young girl on the up and up. Now then, how fast’s your typing, girl?’
‘Fifty words a minute, Mrs Peabody. Miss Grantley says that I …’
‘Miss Grantley?’
‘She’s my … er … my boss. She owns a typing bureau in town. Miss Grantley’s Typing Bureau, it’s called.’
‘Most original name,’ observed Mrs Peabody.
‘It’s not far from here, in Short Street. I can get a reference from her.’ For the first time, Daisy’s mind flashed to what Miss Grantley might say. Well, too bad. She’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
‘Why do you want to leave?’
‘Um … I would like to … to have a change, and …’
‘Why?’
This was not going at all the way Daisy had imagined. She faltered, ‘The advertisement … it spoke of travel, and … and being interested in films … I love films … and I thought it sounded exciting, and …’
Mrs Peabody cut her off. ‘What’s your family like?’
Daisy stared. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I mean, are your parents poor? Do you have dependent brothers or sisters? You’re very young, aren’t you? And you’re well-spoken. So why aren’t you still at school?’
Daisy blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘I am not that young. I am over sixteen,’ she said stifflly. ‘I don’t have any brothers or sisters. I live with my mother. She is an Australian by birth, like you, Mrs Peabody, and …’
‘Where from?’ asked Mrs Peabody, sharply.
‘Melbourne, ma’am. She …’
‘Ha! I’m a Sydneysider myself. Well then, go on with your story! When did she come to this fair country?’
Daisy felt annoyed. How impatient Mrs Peabody was! But she went on politely. ‘She came to England when she was eighteen, on a trip with her aunt … and then met my father and stayed.’
‘Ha!’ said Mrs Peabody again. ‘A pretty story, that.’
Daisy rushed on, ‘Right now, Mother works in Gabriela’s, in High Street. And I’ve been working for a year now, since Miss Grantley took me on as a trainee. My father’s dead, you see, and we lost all our money in the stock market crash two years ago so we …’
Mrs Peabody peered at Daisy. ‘So you have to earn your living. Good. I don’t want a spoilt miss who doesn’t know what work is. What will your mother say if you go away?’ Daisy wished Mrs Peabody would take off her glasses. It made her nervous to be stared at by a pair of blank dark lenses. ‘Go away, Mrs Peabody? To Australia?’
‘No, no, no. But I have business in London directly, and I travel a good deal. You have to be prepared to cut the apron strings, if you want to work for me.’
Something thickened in Daisy’s throat. She thought of her mother’s plans and dreams for her. ‘I think my mother would be happy for me,’ she said, softly. ‘But I …’
‘I’m compiling a book,’ interruped Mrs Peabody. Her tone became warm, almost confiding. ‘Not my choice, you understand. It’s a vow I made to my late husband on his death bed. My husband owned a very successful jewellery business with branches in Sydney, Melbourne and London, which is why we travelled here a lot. But his heart wasn’t in it. That was in films. Well! Over the years, he made hundreds and thousands of notes about motion pictures. He even managed to interview a few visiting film stars. There are at least thirty scrapbooks. I promised him I’d sort through them and compile a proper book. Trouble is, I have very little interest in the film world. And I type like a tortoise! Alfred’s been dead these five years and I’ve settled in England now, like your mother. But I’ve never found a satisfactory typist to help me carry out my vow, though God knows I’ve tried.’ She peered at Daisy. ‘You look like you might do. You’re young. You can be taught. And you’re a film fan. You won’t get bored, like the others. I’ll check out that reference of yours, mind!’
Daisy was bewildered, but said, gamely, ‘The book … it … er … it sounds very interesting indeed.’
‘Rather you than me,’ said Mrs Peabody. ‘Now, I’m a rich woman, Miss Daisy Miller. Very rich indeed, thanks to my dear departed hubby. You’ll not regret taking the job — moneywise, anyway.’ She named a figure that was three times Daisy’s present salary. Daisy’s eyes opened wide.
‘Not enough, is it, Miss?’
‘No, no,’ said Daisy, hastily, ‘it’s very gener …’
‘Board and lodging too,’ cut in Mrs Peabody, briskly. ‘You’ll be on trial for a month while we see if we are suited. What do you say?’
Daisy’s head whirled. With that amount of money, and board and lodging already paid for, she’d be able to send a fair bit to Mother, save a little and still have a fair amount left over for fun … Her heart thumped. ‘Oh, Mrs Peabody,’ she cried, ‘I would very much like this job. I’ll work so hard, I promise you! I really will!’
Mrs Peabody’s red-lipsticked mouth broke into a wide smile. ‘That’s what I like to hear. Now, then. I want you back here bright and early Saturday morning, packed and ready to go. We’ll be leaving for London on the eleven o’clock train. What’s the matter, girl?’
Daisy had been startled to realise how quickly it was all going to happen. But she could not, must not, let an opportunity like this slip by or she’d be kicking herself for the rest of her life. ‘I’ll be here, Mrs Peabody. But Mother …’
‘She’ll be worried, you mean? I will visit her this afternoon, set her mind at ease, make sure she knows her daughter isn’t going off with white slavers.’
Daisy blushed. ‘I didn’t mean …’
‘Stop apologising, girl!’
‘No … I mean, yes, Mrs Peabody …’
‘Good. See you Saturday morning, Miss Daisy Miller. See yourself out, will you? Irene’s busy.’ And with that, she turned and waddled out of the room.
Daisy stood there for a moment, dizzy with excitement. Then her glance fell on her watch. Oh, sugar! She was ten minutes late! She was really going to get it from Miss Grantley!