Judith

by Betty Neels

  He didn’t answer but shepherded her across the road and once on the other side, said: ‘You wished to buy a hat. There’s a shop close to the castle which caters for tourists, you’ll find one there.’

  Judith walked beside him in silence. Her own fault that she had been snubbed, of course. She should have learnt better by now. She told herself that she didn’t mind as they went up to the shop through the cobbled street.

  It was cool inside and full of the kind of things people want to buy when they are on holiday. Judith prowled round for a minute or two before discovering a table loaded with hats: white cotton ones, like a very small boy’s, highly coloured ones, heavily embroidered, plain straw ones… Mindful of the Professor’s preference, she chose a natural straw with a wide brim, paid its modest price and went out into the bright sunshine.

  He looked faintly astonished when he saw her. ‘You were very quick…’

  ‘Well, you probably want to get back to the villa. Besides, it was easy to choose—a plain sensible straw, you said.’

  He looked at her, the hat was very becoming. ‘It suits you,’ he said reluctantly, and then: ‘Since we have some time in hand, you might like to look round the cathedral and the castle; neither takes long.’

  She followed him into the dim vastness. The cathedral had been built in the Spanish style with a whitewashed exterior and inside it was empty of chairs or pews. Great columns supported its ceiling and there was a small chapel to one side where Henry the Navigator had been buried. Judith liked its bareness, wandering round, quite forgetful of her companion. She remembered him presently and saw him waiting by the door and hurried over, feeling guilty, but all he said was: ‘You like it, so do I—it’s simple, isn’t it?’ He led the way out, dropping some coins in the dish an old woman was holding by the door. ‘And now the castle.’

  It was a stone’s throw away; a path between low-growing shrubs and the orange trees Judith still hadn’t got used to led them past a crumbling wall and into the ruins of the castle. There wasn’t a great deal to see, although she supposed that to a learned scholar like Charles Cresswell, it was of the greatest interest. She asked him one or two questions, but his answers were brief and uttered in an impatient voice so that she gave up after the first few attempts, admired the view and made for the ruined archway which would lead them back to the path. She was ahead of him with the wall on one side of her when she stopped. The wall was full of cracks and niches and in one of these, rather bigger than most, there was a small thin cat with two tiny kittens. The cat mewed at her, looking at her with a resigned hopelessness which brought her to an abrupt halt.

  ‘Has this cat got a home?’ she asked the Professor.

  ‘Most unlikely. Cats and dogs aren’t ill-treated here, neither are they regarded as household pets.’ He looked thoughtfully at the animal. ‘She’s starving, poor thing—she can hardly hold up her head. Probably she hasn’t been able to leave the kittens while she looks for food; they can’t be more than a few days old.’

  Judith put out a finger and the little cat licked it tiredly. Its mew was plaintive. ‘What are we going to do?’ she asked him fiercely.

  He stood looking down at her, half smiling. ‘If you’ll take off that highly becoming hat, we could put all three of them into it. I’m sure Teresa won’t object to them providing you keep them out of her kitchen.’

  No sooner said than done. Judith didn’t waste time in thanks, that could come later. Mother and kittens needed urgent attention if they were to survive. She carried them carefully, too weak to protest, to where the car had been parked, and got in carefully, her hat on her knees. Half way to the villa she asked: ‘Do you think we’ll get her well again? She isn’t too starved?’

  ‘You’ll get her well, Judith, I have no doubt of that. I shan’t be here.’

  ‘Oh—you’re leaving tomorrow?’

  ‘This evening.’

  She was astonished to find that she didn’t want him to go, but it would be just as well—he was growing on her; impatience, ill humour, mockery, the lot. She said ‘Oh,’ again and then: ‘Thank you very much for letting me have this little cat and her kittens. I’m very grateful. Do you think I’m very silly? You don’t approve of sentimental people, do you?’

  ‘I’m not above modifying my opinions,’ he told her, ‘I dislike mawkishness. And I don’t consider you silly, Judith. I would have done exactly the same.’

  She turned to look at him. ‘You would?’ Her astonishment made him wince.

  Lady Cresswell, told about the tiny creatures still in Judith’s hat, was instantly diverted. Teresa was sent for, a box was requested, a saucer of powdered milk, suitably warmed, was fetched, and the cat and her kittens gently transferred to their new quarters and the mother fed. She supped languidly, but she purred too. Judith said anxiously: ‘Do you suppose we’ve got her in time? She’s all skin and bone.’

  ‘With regular light meals and plenty of water she stands a very good chance.’ Charles Cresswell, standing with his hands in his pockets, moved towards the door. ‘I’ll go and talk to Teresa and suggest that you make yourself responsible for this creature’s food and well being.’

  When he had gone Judith asked: ‘You don’t mind, Lady Cresswell? We couldn’t leave her…’

  ‘Of course I don’t mind, child—Charles has been bringing home lost and sick animals since he was a very small boy. His dogs were both abandoned—both past their first youth when he found them too.’

  Judith paused in the pouring of a cool drink for Lady Cresswell. ‘I’ve just thought—what will happen when we go back…?’

  She hadn’t seen the Professor standing in the open door leading to the patio. ‘They’ll have to go into quarantine, of course,’ he observed ‘and then presently take up residence at Hawkshead.’

  Judith beamed at him. ‘Oh, they’ll love it there—how kind you are!’

  His smile mocked her. ‘You overwhelm me, Judith.’

  She bent her head over the box, feeling the colour flooding her face. Presently she put the box down, murmured about fetching more milk and went away without looking at him.

  When she went back, almost half an hour later, he had gone. She fed the cat again, read the most interesting bits from the English papers they had brought back with them and then sat idly chatting until Lady Cresswell dozed off. There was another feed due by then. Judith went to the kitchen once more, this time for chicken broth, fed her charge, pleased to see that she was looking more lively already, and then went to get writing paper and pen. She had started on a letter home when the Professor returned.

  ‘If that’s to your parents, let me have it and I’ll post it in England. But why not ring them up? The telephone’s in the hall and there’s another in the small room behind the dining room they call the study.’ He smiled at her, this time with no mockery. ‘Off you go now—I want to talk to mother when she wakes up anyway.’

  Judith allowed herself to be dismissed and went along to the study where she had a long and satisfying chat with her mother and then, since no one had asked for her, went through a side door into the garden, where she lay on the beautifully tended grass and let the sun drench her. She should have used her Ambre Solaire and worn a hat, but she didn’t think it mattered. A view not shared by Charles Cresswell, who came strolling towards her a little later. ‘You’ll have a headache and look like a lobster if you don’t move into the shade,’ he told her forthrightly. ‘I’ll allow that you’re not a conceited girl, but who wants to look a figure of fun? Besides, it’s painful.’

  She scrambled to her feet, feeling a fool. ‘I never do anything right, do I?’ she demanded snappishly, and stalked off indoors, to rush to her room and inspect her face and person for signs of sunburn.

  They lunched, the three of them, in the shade of the patio, on a cold fish salad and a light-as-air pudding called Mountain Rose.

  Charles Cresswell waved a hand in the direction of the mountains in the distance. ‘The Monchiques are covered with them
—rather like our own wild rose, but butter-coloured—hence the pudding’s name.’ He had talked more than usual, perhaps because his mother, although she said very little about it, didn’t want him to go. He had teased her into a cheerful frame of mind by the time the meal was over, and Judith, escorting her to her darkened, air-conditioned room for a nap, was pleased to see that. She offered pills and a cool drink, assured Lady Cresswell that she would rouse her in good time for tea, and went along to her own room. She had no particular wish to stay there, but she was reasonably sure that the Professor wouldn’t want her company. She had brought the cat and the kittens upstairs before lunch, together with a supply of nourishing food. Now she attended to the little creature’s wants, watched it settle down once more with a protecting paw over the kittens, and went out on to the balcony.

  It was very hot. She supposed she would have to stay in her room unless Charles went out. She leaned over and carefully inspected the garden and as much of the patio below as she could see. She was about to withdraw her head when he stepped from directly under her balcony and looked up at her.

  ‘Yes, I’m still here. Afraid to come down, Judith?’

  She replied with something of a snap, ‘Certainly not! I was just looking around…’

  ‘In that case get your bathing things and come and have a swim in the pool.’

  She hesitated for a couple of seconds, but the prospect was too inviting. She nodded and went to find her bikini.

  The pool was large, the water warm and she swam well. Beyond a brief greeting, the Professor had had nothing to say, but had plunged in from the side and was swimming strongly away from her. Judith pulled on her cap and dived in from the board at one end, passing him halfway going in the opposite direction. They did this several times and she began to wonder if he thought he was alone; he could at least pass the time of day… She hoisted herself out by the board and went and stood on it.

  Her bikini was a brilliant blue, beautifully cut and did her figure full justice, but as far as he was concerned, she suspected that an old sack would have done just as well. As he swam towards her, she sprang up and down on the board without actually diving in; she had very little vanity, but just for once she would have liked him to have made some comment—that she could swim well, that he liked the colour of her bikini, that he could see her, even…

  ‘Why are you leaping up and down like a scalded cat?’ he wanted to know, and before she could answer that, had turned and begun his powerful journey back to the other end.

  He hadn’t quite reached it when she nipped off the board, picked up her towel and went back to the house. He was rude, intolerant, pigheaded, and thank heaven he was going back to England within a few hours! She was glad, thrilled to bits, she wouldn’t have to put up with his company for three weeks. She stopped dead in her tracks, suddenly aware that three weeks was a lifetime, longer than that. He would be miles away and she wouldn’t see him or know what he was doing or who he was with. That beastly Eileen Hunt, probably. When she saw him again, if she ever did, he might be going to marry the girl; at best, he would have forgotten her. Judith stood on the stairs, wrapped in her towel, dripping gently. Charles wasn’t going until the evening, he had said, so she would see him again, perhaps she would have a chance to tell him… Tell him what? she thought wildly. That she had just discovered that she was head over heels in love with him? Tiresome, ill-tempered creature that he was. And she could imagine that mocking smile and the blandly spoken answer she’d get to that!

  She went on up the stairs to her room, had a shower and dressed, and outwardly looking cool and self-possessed, went down to the patio. Await events, her father had always advised her when she had been uncertain of something, and that was exactly what she intended doing.

  It was very quiet. Teresa and Augusto were having their midday rest, the cat and kittens were peacefully sleeping, so was Lady Cresswell—she had peeped in to see. And of Charles Cresswell there was no sign. At four o’clock she went to wake Lady Cresswell, fed the cat and went to the kitchen to ask for the tea tray to be brought to the patio, and over the tea things she learned that Charles had gone to Silves on some business of his own. ‘He’ll be back shortly,’ observed Lady Cresswell. ‘He told me he wants to have a little talk before he goes.’

  Which was her nice way of warning Judith to keep out of the way. Judith was at the other end of the garden, cutting roses in the early evening cool, when she heard the car start up. She didn’t give it a second thought. Charles wouldn’t go without saying goodbye, even if they weren’t on the best of terms. She cut a few more roses, rehearsing the little speech she was going to make to him; she had thought it out carefully and she hoped that hearing it, he would understand that she would like to be friends in future. Once they were friends, who knew what might happen?

  She wandered back to the house and found Lady Cresswell in the sitting room, reading a novel. ‘There you are, dear,’ she remarked a little too brightly. ‘Shall we get out the backgammon board? I always feel a little low when Charles goes.’

  ‘Goes?’ asked Judith woodenly.

  ‘Why, yes, dear—about ten minutes ago.’ She peeped at Judith’s downcast face and allowed herself the faintest of pleased smiles. ‘We shall miss him.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JUDITH HAD NEVER been much good at backgammon, and that evening she was quite hopeless. Lady Cresswell won with no trouble at all, elected to stay downstairs for dinner and then sat for a little while with the tiny cat and her kittens in their box beside her. Judith guessed that she was missing her son more than she would admit and probably faced a bad night. But she went to bed finally after an hour of making plans for the next week or two, and Judith stayed with her for a while, pottering softly around the room, carrying on a murmured conversation until Lady Cresswell finally went to sleep. She went to her own room then, settling her charges on the balcony with the door open. It was a warm night and they would come to no harm. She gave the cat a final small meal, stroked the scraggy little head and went to bed herself, to lie awake and think of Charles. He would be back in England by now. She wondered where he would spend the night and wished she knew more about him; his life was something of which she knew very little. An historian of some repute, living comfortable life with sufficient money to do as he pleased, possessed of a number of friends—beyond that she could only guess. A useless exercise anyway.

  Presently she got out of her bed and went to sit on the balcony. There was a moon, almost full, and the garden, dim in its light, smelled delicious. She could make out the mountains not so very far away and lower down the faint lights of Silves. It was quiet too, so that the occasional rustle from the cats’ box sounded loud. Judith stayed for some time, trying to sort out her thoughts and getting nowhere. She made no bones about being in love with Charles; she was, and that was an end to it. It was a silly thing to do and she couldn’t think why she had done it. He had given her no encouragement at all, and he would make a by no means perfect husband. The thing was to do something sensible about it, like forgetting him. She contemplated this idea briefly and threw it out. Charles wasn’t a man one could forget easily, whatever one’s feelings towards him were. Getting as far away as possible from him was more sensible, only she couldn’t do that just yet. Lady Cresswell had to be considered. Judith had grown fond of the valiant little lady and had no intention of giving her even the smallest worry for the limited time that she had left to her. That might mean months and she wasn’t sure what was worse—the prospect of trying to avoid Charles whenever possible, or seeing him every day and pretending that she had no interest in him whatever. She decided that they were as bad as each other, which made the future look gloomy. She had three weeks, of course, before they returned to England, and perhaps Lady Cresswell would decide to stay in her own home in London, which would solve the problem nicely. She doubted if they would spend the winter in Cumbria and perhaps if she didn’t see him for weeks on end he would fade… Upon due reflection she came
to the conclusion that the Professor wasn’t a man to fade. She sighed and went back to bed. She had always prided herself on her good sense, but that didn’t stop her having a good cry.

  But there was no sign of her sleepless night the next morning. She swam in the pool, drank her morning tea, saw to the cats’ wants, dressed and went to see how Lady Cresswell was. Surprisingly cheerful, as it turned out, full of plans for a drive up into the mountains within the next few days, a visit to the spa, a drive down to the coast, and perhaps a picnic there. ‘You could have a swim,’ she encouraged Judith. ‘We’ll go to Praia da Rocha, there’s a lovely beach there, and perhaps it would be better if we had lunch at the Algarve Hotel. We’ll do that tomorrow. Charles said I wasn’t to do anything today, so I won’t.’

  ‘The doctor’s coming to see you,’ Judith reminded her. ‘He said he’d be here some time after three o’clock.’

  Lady Cresswell nodded. ‘He can have tea with us. I’m going to lie in the shade this morning and do nothing.’ She sat up. ‘No, better still, you shall splash around in the pool and I’ll watch you.’

  So the morning passed pleasantly enough. Judith swam and dived and lolled around with a watchful eye on her companion and her thoughts miles away. Charles would be on his way home by now, already there, perhaps. They were having lunch on the patio when he telephoned. Judith, who had answered the phone, felt the colour rush to her face when she heard his cool voice. ‘Judith, I should like to speak to my mother.’

  No ‘Hullo’, or ‘How are you?’ She said in a voice equally impersonal: ‘I’ll fetch her,’ and did so, making her comfortable in a chair before going out of the room. There was a great lump in her chest like heavy dough. She wanted to run out of the house, go back to England, to her home, to the hospital, to the time before she had met him. When she heard Lady Cresswell calling to her she went back, half hoping that he wanted to speak to her too, but Lady Cresswell had hung up.