Right on time, come in. I’ve just put the kettle on if you fancy a cuppa. Bit of a dreary day, isn’t it? Martin’s out planting his tomatoes, so I’ve been on my own all morning. Still, it’s nice to have a few minutes peace. It’s been one thing after another lately, hasn’t it? I can’t complain about the place being too quiet anymore, what with all the screaming and running around that’s gone on here in the past few weeks. Still, it’s nothing to do with me, I keep telling myself. Just do your job Shirley, that’s what they pay you for. I’m not one to talk out of turn-- you know that--but well, let me just give you a taste of the goings on. Mr. Tinsley is all in a tizzy about fixing up the place. He met Mr. Vyse and, if you’ll pardon my French, all hell broke loose. I never heard such a spate of bad language since Nigel Morcombe fell in Martin’s compost tip. Apparently, Mr. Tinsley has great ideas about remodeling and Mr. Vyse is telling him he can’t do it. I don’t remember Mr. Montgomery having such troubles. In his day, he did what he wanted and nobody made such a fuss. Still, the ‘to do’ with Mr. Vyse was nothing compared to the day they found out that Frank Churchill is about. You know, the young friend of Mr. Montgomery’s who came to live in the old house in the park? Bless me, they were a pair; I never saw such good friends. He’s gone a bit odd what with living out there all by himself for so many years, but he would, wouldn't he? Anyway, how was I to know that his being here was such a secret? I thought the new folks had looked over the place—how could they miss a house in their park being lived in? They've been paying his wages and bills. Only goes to show that money don't mean brains...Anyway, as I was saying, Frank jumped right out of the bushes at Miss Simmons and nearly scared the poor girl to death. Now I’m not saying that I’m fond of  her, a bit prissy for my tastes, but there’s no excuse for what he done. She came running in here white as a ghost. In fact, I thought she’d seen one, if you take my meaning. Took three cups of tea to calm her, and then Mr. Tinsley starts bellowing about how nobody is going to scare his girlfriend like that, and that the bloody bloke could clear out.  Frank had the good sense to lay low for a few days, and it all blew over. While I was wondering whether I should mention John coming for the summer someone else turns up! They’ve hired a "historian"—odd little thing, all very serious and likely a feminist. I don’t know what Mr. Tinsley is playing at. Two young women at his beck and call is what it looks like to me. And you know, Miss Simmons is going away—out of the country! Where’s it all going to lead? To the bedroom is my guess, but nobody’s asking me…Ooh dear, there’s the kettle. Sit tight and we can have a proper natter. I'm sorry to say it, but She's been making her presence felt again!