The Button Box. Dilly Court

me feel part of a family.’

      Clara was about to unlock the shop door when a male figure loomed outside, making her leap back in fear. Her encounter with Patches had left her feeling nervous, and Luke’s fight with Bert was not going to make things easier. The person rapped on the door.

      ‘Who’s there?’ Clara demanded, hoping that she sounded braver than she was feeling.

      ‘It’s me, Luke. Let me in.’

      Clara unlocked the door and Luke stepped in on a gust of ice-cold air. His smile of greeting faded when he saw Nathaniel standing in the shadows. ‘Who are you?’

      Clara stepped in between them. ‘This is Miss Silver’s nephew, Nathaniel.’

      ‘What’s he doing here?’ Luke demanded.

      ‘Nathaniel, this is my friend, Luke Foyle,’ Clara said hastily.

      ‘How do you do?’ Nathaniel held out his hand, but Luke ignored the gesture.

      ‘We’re more than just friends.’ Luke placed his arm around Clara’s shoulders. ‘So I’ll say it again. What are you doing here?’

      Clara twisted free from his grasp. ‘Really, Luke. Is this necessary? Nathaniel saw me struggling with two heavy cases and he offered to help.’

      Before Luke could respond Betsy appeared in the doorway. ‘What’s going on? I’m faint with hunger and all you can do is argue. Anyway, you’re upsetting Jane. You know how she hates the sound of raised voices.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Nathaniel murmured. ‘Perhaps I should go.’

      ‘That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said.’ Luke opened the shop door. ‘Thanks for helping Clara, but we don’t need your services now.’

      Clara grabbed the door and slammed it. ‘I won’t stand for this behaviour, Luke. That was very rude and extremely ungrateful. You don’t know how much I am indebted to Nathaniel, and he was trying to help us.’

      ‘Even so, you don’t know a thing about this fellow.’

      ‘I’ll go, Clara.’ Nathaniel rammed his top hat on his head. ‘You’ve got the wrong end of the stick, Foyle. I think you should apologise to Clara.’

      ‘I can see how the land lies. Maybe I should be the one to leave.’

      ‘Yes, you should go, Luke,’ Clara said angrily. ‘Come back when you’ve calmed down and remembered your manners.’

      Luke slammed out of the shop.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Nathaniel said hastily. ‘I seem to have placed you in an awkward situation.’

      ‘Don’t apologise, it was Luke who was in the wrong. He doesn’t own me, and he shouldn’t jump to conclusions.’

      ‘Perhaps I should leave anyway.’

      ‘If you go now I will be forced to venture out into the snow to buy our supper,’ Clara said, smiling. ‘And you would face another evening eating on your own.’

      ‘If you put it like that, how can I refuse? I’ll be as quick as I can.’

      Clara let him out of the shop, taking care to lock the door after him. She did not want Luke to come barging in and create another scene. He could be arrogant sometimes, and jealous; two qualities she disliked in anyone, especially the man she might marry, although that possibility was becoming more and more remote. Better to be an old maid than to be shackled to a man who wanted to dominate her and take control of her innermost thoughts. That was not for her. She returned to the parlour to comfort Jane and reassure Betsy.

      Despite the circumstances, Clara felt relaxed and surprisingly happy as they sat round the fire eating the food that Nathaniel had bought for them. The parlour was small and shabbily furnished; the seats on the chairs were threadbare and the delicate floral wallpaper was stained and peeling, but a fire blazed up the chimney and the room was warm and cosy. While they ate, Nathaniel entertained them with accounts of his experiences busking on the city streets. When the remains of the meal were tidied away he took his violin from its case and, with a little persuasion, played a merry jig that had their feet tapping and their hands clapping.

      Clara joined in the applause. ‘That was lovely, Nathaniel, but I would like to hear one of your own compositions.’

      ‘Mine?’ He ran his hand through his unruly hair, causing it to curl around his brow in wild profusion. ‘Are you sure?’

      Betsy leaned forward, eyes shining. ‘Oh, yes. Let us hear something you’ve composed.’

      ‘Is it sad?’ Jane asked wistfully. ‘Sad music makes me cry.’

      ‘Let him play and then we’ll find out.’ Clara settled back in Miss Silver’s favourite chair, resting her feet on the brass fender, as Nathaniel launched into a hauntingly sweet melody. In his skilful hands the violin seemed to sing and the music filled Clara’s head and made her heart swell with joy and sadness. It was as if all the emotions she had ever felt had been transposed into sound and she closed her eyes, floating away on the tide of Nathaniel’s lyrical creation. She was still enraptured when the piece came to an end, and as she opened her eyes she realised that Jane was crying and Betsy sat with her hands clutched to her bosom, gazing at Nathaniel with moist eyes and a wistful smile.

      He dropped his hands to his sides and bowed.

      ‘That was so beautiful,’ Clara said in a whisper. ‘It melted my heart.’

      ‘Yes, it was lovely.’ Betsy jumped to her feet. ‘You are so clever, Nathaniel.’

      Jane sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. ‘Your music made me cry, and I’ve lost my hanky.’

      ‘You are all too kind.’ Nathaniel placed the instrument in its case, treating it as tenderly as a mother would a newborn infant. ‘It still needs some work.’

      ‘What is it called?’ Clara asked. ‘I’d love to hear it again some time.’

      ‘I haven’t given it a title; perhaps you can help me there.’ Nathaniel glanced at the mantel clock. ‘I didn’t realise it was so late. It’s time I returned to my lodgings.’

      ‘Don’t go yet,’ Jane cried. ‘Please stay a little longer.’

      Clara rose to her feet. ‘Thank you for our supper and for allowing us to hear your composition. It was wonderful.’

      ‘It was my pleasure, but now I really must leave you.’ Nathaniel made his way through to the shop, pausing to wrap his muffler round his neck. ‘I’m sure that Luke will come round, Clara. He obviously cares a great deal for you.’

      She tossed her head. ‘He can do as he pleases. I choose my own friends.’

      ‘Does that include me?’

      ‘I’m proud to know you, Nathaniel Silver, and very much indebted to you.’

      ‘Nonsense. You were my aunt’s choice and I respect her wishes.’ He stood aside as Clara unlocked the street door. ‘I haven’t forgotten the tickets for the Gaiety. As soon as I’m in a position to get some I’ll bring them round.’

      She held the door as he stepped outside into the bitter winter night. ‘You’re welcome to call at any time.’

      ‘Thank you, I will.’ Nathaniel backed away, smiling, and disappeared into the darkness beyond the pool of yellow light that surrounded the gas lamp.

      Clara was about to close the door when she saw the dark shape of a man lingering in a doorway on the far side of the street. She could not be certain but it looked very much like Luke. It would be typical of Luke to spy on her; he had done it before and she had found it oddly touching, but now it had become irritating and downright insulting. Nathaniel was just a friend, and he had been magnanimous enough to allow her to keep her inheritance without challenging his aunt’s will. The mere