by Betty Neels
Serena said calmly, ‘I thought we might go on Saturday to the Cat Shelter in Penn and you could choose one.’
‘You mean that?’ Heather got up and flew round the table and flung her arms around Serena. ‘My own cat? And he can live in the house with me?!’
‘Well, I told your mother that you would train him so well that by the time she came home she would hardly know that he was in the house.’
‘You did? You’ll help me? Timothy won’t be coming home yet, will he? Did mother say?’
‘No, but I was told six weeks when I came here, so there is still plenty of time.’
They went to choose a cat on Saturday, and came back with a small thin tabby found abandoned on a bypass. About a year old, they thought, and timid. Heather put her into the cat basket Serena had bought and carried her home. ‘I shall call her Tabitha,’ she told Serena.
And, to Serena’s great surprise, Heather kissed her awkwardly on a cheek.
It was astonishing what Tabitha’s arrival to join the household did—Heather changed from a rebellious and ill-mannered child almost overnight. True, she still had bouts of sulky disobedience and sudden flashes of bad temper, but even they grew less. She had discovered that there was something she could love and who would love her in return. And Tabitha did just that. She was a gentle little creature, quickly learning what she might and might not do, accompanying Heather to bed and waiting for her when she got back from school; moreover, she was on excellent terms with Puss.
Watching Heather play with the little creature in the garden, Serena hoped that Mrs Webster would realise that her daughter needed as much attention and affection as she gave her son.
She would miss Heather, reflected Serena. She had grown fond of the child, despite their initial difficulties. And very soon now she would no longer be needed. Mrs Webster had hinted that Timothy’s progress was so good that he would be allowed home soon.
Serena counted her wages and thought about the future. Armed with a reference from Mrs Webster, she had a better chance of getting another job. There were dozens of advertisements in the Lady magazine for similar work. But there was the question of where she would go while she found something. It might have to be Henry again, for if she stayed in Penn her money would be swallowed up in no time, however cheaply she lived. She might find more opportunities in London. She worried about it a good deal, which was a pity, since kindly Fate had decided to stick her oar in…
Mr van Doelen, over in London on a brief visit to bring into practice his deep knowledge of broken bones, had spent the morning mending, with delicate fingers, a very small boy’s shattered body, the result of falling out of a third-floor window. By some miracle there was no head damage, and his painstaking surgery was likely to be successful. But it had been hard work, and he was tired by the time he was ready to leave the hospital, only to find Mrs Webster, lying in wait for him as he reached the entrance beside her.
‘I heard you were over here. I hope you aren’t going again without seeing Timothy, Mr van Doelen?’
‘My intention is to see him in the morning, Mrs Webster. Shall we say ten o’clock?’
‘Very well. Mr Gould, who’s been looking after him, thinks he’s well enough to go home…’
‘Splendid. We’ll discuss that tomorrow, shall we? Now if you’ll forgive me…’
He went out to his car, reflecting that if Timothy were to go home Serena would leave…
He was back at the hospital early the next morning; the small boy was doing well in Intensive Care. Mr van Doelen stayed there for some time, then made his way to his office in the orthopaedic block. Mrs Webster was already there.
He bade her a civil good morning, suggested that she stayed where she was while he and Mr Gould examined Timothy, and went to see the boy. There was no reason why he shouldn’t go home; the boy was in plaster and learning to use crutches. Mr van Doelen gave it as his opinion that he could leave hospital within the next few days.
Mrs Webster said sharply, ‘I shall make arrangements immediately. Of course he must have a nurse—I know of a good agency—she can go to Penn with us. There will be no need for the girl who’s looking after Heather to stay. She can leave at once. I’ll phone her today and she can pack her things…’
Mr van Doelen said smoothly, ‘If I might suggest that you allow her to stay until the nurse is installed? Some help may be required getting the boy settled in. If you arrange for Timothy to go home in two days’ time, I will still be here. I will drive over and make sure that everything is as it should be.’
Behind his quiet voice there was the ring of authority, and Mrs Webster found herself agreeing.
Serena knew that the six weeks of her job were running out, but she hadn’t expected Mrs Webster’s phone call. She was to be ready to leave in two days’ time, and would she fetch Maisie to the phone so that she might give her instructions?
‘You will help the nurse when she comes with us,’ said Mrs Webster. ‘No doubt she will need another pair of hands to make Timothy comfortable, and then you can go.’
‘I’ll fetch Maisie,’ said Serena, and, that done, went into the garden where the two cats were lying together asleep. It had all been rather sudden; she had counted on a week’s notice, during which time she might possibly have gone to London, found cheap lodgings and looked for a job—any job… There was nothing for it now but to ask Henry if she might go back there until she found work. And that wasn’t the worst. She had to tell Heather…
The child had grown fond of Serena in a guarded way, and she was certainly happier. Besides, she had one or two friends now, encouraged by Serena to come to tea and see the cats. She broke the news as they had their tea, and Heather burst into a storm of tears.
‘It’ll be beastly,’ she sobbed. ‘Can’t you stay?’
‘Well, no,’ said Serena, ‘but there’s a nurse coming with your brother, and I dare say she’ll be very nice and like Tabitha, and you have your friends from school. I’ll have a word with her when she gets here, and if you make her your friend, you’ll find everything will be all right.’
‘Where will you go?’
‘Oh, I have a brother. I shall stay with him for a while. But if you like I’ll write to you. Will you write to me?’
‘Yes, and perhaps you could come and see me and Tabitha?’
‘I’d like that. You’ll have to take extra care of her; she will miss Puss.’
Serena was packed and ready to leave, and prayed that the nurse would be a nice girl. She heaved a sigh of relief when she saw her, for she was young and jolly with a kind face and a ready laugh. But she was competent, too, urging Mrs Webster to go into the drawing room and have coffee while they got Timothy to his room.
‘He’ll be up and about in no time,’ she told Serena. ‘My name is Maggie—what’s yours? Can I come to your room while I give you a resumé?’
‘It’s your room now,’ said Serena, leading the way, and explaining about Heather and Tabitha. ‘She’s a nice child, but no one has bothered with her. If you could stand between her and her mother? She has this little cat now, and she sees more of her friends at school. I’ve let them come to tea…’
‘I’ll keep an eye on her. When do you leave?’
‘Now.’
But when they went back to Timothy’s room it was just in time to see Mrs Webster and Mr van Doelen come in. Maggie became all at once very professional, and Serena slipped away and found Heather in the hall.
‘They let me come home; I wanted to say goodbye to you. Where’s Tabitha?’
‘In the kitchen, and the nurse is awfully nice—her name’s Maggie; she will be your friend…’
Mrs Webster and Mr van Doelen came into the hall then, and Mrs Webster said, ‘Ready to leave, Miss Lightfoot? Heather, you have come to see Timothy, of course. You may go to his room; Nurse is there.’
‘You’ll write?’ Heather flung her arms round Serena.
‘Yes, I promise. Remember what I told you.’
&n
bsp; Mrs Webster shook hands with Mr van Doelen and then stared at him as he picked up Serena’s case and Puss’s basket.
He said coolly, ‘Are you ready, Serena?’ And then, ‘I’m giving Miss Lightfoot a lift. Mr Gould will be in touch if you have any worries, Mrs Webster.’
He took Serena’s arm and led her out to the car. He popped her into it, put her case in the boot, Puss on the back seat, and got in beside her.
Serena found her voice. ‘This isn’t…you’re very kind…if you would stop at the station…’
‘Hush,’ said Mr van Doelen in a soothing voice. ‘Where had you intended to go?’
‘Well, it was all rather sudden, so I’m going back to Henry while I find another job.’ She added urgently, ‘There’s the station.’
‘So it is. Unless you’re anxious to go back and live with your brother we’ll go up to town. I have one or two things to see to, but I’ll see you this evening and we’ll have a talk.’
Serena said, ‘What about? Really, there is nothing for us to talk about. I’m grateful for the lift, but I’ll be quite all right if you’d just drop me off at—well, some part of London where I can get a room.’
‘I know the very place,’ said Mr van Doelen briskly.
CHAPTER FOUR
MR VAN DOELEN had spoken in very decisive tones. Serena, still gathering her wits together, gave up asking questions for the moment. Possibly Mr van Doelen knew of some respectable person who let lodgings, and there was no denying the fact that she might have a much better chance of finding work with London on her doorstep than if she had gone to Henry. She began calculating the cost of bed and breakfast—and would it be quicker if she went to an agency? But that meant paying a fee…
Mr van Doelen glanced at her frowning profile and left her in peace to worry until they were threading their way through the outskirts of London.
‘I’m taking you to my old nanny,’ he told her. ‘She lives in a small house in Chelsea.’ He didn’t say that he lived there, too. In fact, it was his house; a mews cottage, his pied-a-terre when he was in London.
‘Oh, she won’t mind? She does bed and breakfast?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Mr van Doelen, omitting to mention that he was the one who had the bed and breakfast. He was aware that he was risking Serena’s trust, but there had been no time to think of anything else. He had swept aside the idea of her returning to her brother’s house and, although she was a sensible girl, she would have found it difficult to find anywhere to live at a moment’s notice. Besides, she obviously had very little money. It was a calculated risk, but one he was prepared to take.
When he stopped the car in a narrow lane behind a terrace of houses, Serena looked carefully around. It wasn’t at all the kind of street she had expected. He opened her door and invited her to get out, and she stood for a moment, not speaking; the houses were small, but elegant, with bay trees at their doors and pristine paintwork.
‘Come along,’ said Mr van Doelen in a no nonsense voice, ‘and meet Nanny.’
He unlocked the door of the nearby cottage and urged her into its tiny hall.
‘Oh, is this a mews cottage?’ asked Serena doubtfully. It was certainly small enough, but it had all the elegance of a smart townhouse.
Before Mr van Doelen could answer her a door opened and an elderly woman came to meet them. She was tall and thin, with a very straight back, a sharp nose in a narrow face and dark eyes. Her hair was almost white, worn in an old-fashioned bun, and when she smiled her whole face lit up.
‘Nanny,’ said Mr van Doelen, ‘I’ve brought a young lady to stay for a day or two. Serena Lightfoot. Serena, this is Miss Glover.’
Serena offered a hand, aware that she was being inspected, and waited for someone to say something. This didn’t look like a bed and breakfast place; it was far too elegant. She turned an enquiring look on Mr van Doelen, who ignored it, merely inviting her to take off her jacket. ‘And I’m sure you’ll be glad of a cup of coffee. I’ll fetch your case and Puss.’
Serena looked at Miss Glover; she appeared quite unsurprised by his remark. Serena said, ‘I don’t understand…’
‘No, no, of course you don’t. Now go with Nanny like a good girl—we will talk presently.’
He went back to the car and Serena followed Miss Glover into the living room, which was low-ceilinged, with windows at both ends and a fireplace opposite the door. It was furnished cosily, with easy chairs and a vast sofa, a scattering of small tables, a drum table under one window and a bow-fronted cabinet holding porcelain and silver against a wall.
‘Just you sit down,’ said Nanny, in a surprisingly gentle voice. ‘A nice cup of coffee’s just what you need, and a biscuit or two. Ivo will be back in a minute—you’ll be needing to talk, no doubt.’
‘Indeed we need to talk,’ said Serena crisply. ‘I trust he will explain.’
Nanny said gently, ‘You may depend on that. A man to listen to is Mr Ivo.’
He came into the room a moment later with Puss in her basket. And Puss, that most placid of little animals, went at once and climbed into Serena’s lap.
‘You must explain,’ said Serena.
‘It’s quite simple.’ He had gone to sit in a chair opposite her. ‘Mrs Webster told me that you were to leave as soon as Timothy went home, and as I had arranged to see him to his arrival there it seemed sense to offer you a lift. You didn’t wish to go to your brother, and you had had no time to make any arrangements, had you? This seems to be the solution. You can’t go traipsing around London looking for a room or a job at a moment’s notice. Nanny will be glad of your company for a few days while you find your feet.’
‘Is this house yours?’
‘Yes. I need somewhere to live when I’m in England, and Nanny needs a home. It suits us both. But if you don’t wish to stay here I’ll drive you to wherever you want to go. Friends, perhaps?’
‘I haven’t any friends in London. I’ll be glad to stay just for the night, if Miss Glover won’t mind. I’m sure I can find somewhere and start looking for a job tomorrow.’
He agreed so casually that she felt, for no reason at all, vaguely put out.
Nanny came with the coffee then, observing comfortably that it would be a pleasure to have someone to stay for a while, and presently Mr van Doelen got up to go. He kissed Nanny’s elderly cheek, remarking that he would see her shortly, a wish which he didn’t repeat to Serena, merely hoping that she would find a job to her liking without too much trouble and offering her hospitality for as long as necessary.
The house seemed empty when he had gone, and Nanny said, ‘He works too hard. Here, there and everywhere from one year’s end to the other. He’ll be back in Leiden operating in the morning, as cool as a cucumber and nothing but a few hours’ sleep on the ferry.’
‘He’s going back to Holland this evening?’
Serena tried to sound casually interested. He might have told her, she thought, but there again there was no reason why he should. He had done her a good turn; he would have done the same for anyone—all the same, she felt hurt. She would leave in the morning, having no wish to be beholden to him. Indeed, she wished strongly that she had never accepted his offer to stay with Nanny. Upon reflection, she conceded that, since she hadn’t known of his plans until they were actually at the door, she hadn’t had the opportunity to do so. Her thoughts were interrupted by Nanny’s voice.
‘What kind of work are you looking for, child?’
Serena improvised wildly. ‘Oh, I’ve always wanted to work in a shop—you see, I’ve lived for years with just my father, in a small village, and met very few people. It would be so nice to be among people.’
‘And your little cat?’
‘I think she’ll settle down quite happily as long as she is with me.’
‘Mr Ivo will want you to stay here until you’ve found somewhere to live. Have you any money, my dear? London is expensive.’
‘My father left me some money, and I have saved my wages while I was
at Mrs Webster’s house. I have more than enough.’
Miss Glover nodded. ‘Good. You don’t mind me asking? But I believe you’re new to London.’
‘Well, yes. I don’t plan to stay here, but it is probably the best place to find work. I mean, there’s more choice, isn’t there?’
‘Very likely. Now I’m going to take you to your room and then get our lunch. You have no idea how pleasant it is to have company, Serena.’
After lunch Miss Glover allowed Serena to help with the washing up, and then led the way back to the sitting room.
‘Have you known Mr Ivo long?’ she asked.
Serena shook her head. ‘I really don’t know him at all.’ She went on to explain how they had met, gently egged on by Miss Glover. Presently that lady said, ‘I have some photo albums you might like to see…’
Mr van Doelen as a baby in his pram with Nanny, sitting on his first pony, riding his first bike, in school uniform… Serena turned the pages of his faithfully recorded youth and reached for more formal photos of him in his cap and gown, receiving some award or other from some dignitary, and then several photos cut from newspapers, in some of which he was with pretty girls.
Nanny took the book from her. ‘I’ve a book of cuttings from the papers, too. Famous, he is, but he’s never been one to blow his own trumpet.’
‘You must be proud of him,’ said Serena.
‘That I am. Now I’m going to make a pot of tea. If you’re going job-hunting tomorrow I’d better find that bus timetable for you; you’ll need it. But don’t go doing too much; you’re to stay here until you’ve found something to your liking. There’s plenty of big department stores not too far away; you’d best try your luck with them first.’
Serena, in bed later, tried to sort out her plans. Everything had happened so quickly that she needed a good think. It was a pity that her sensible thoughts should be disrupted by the image of Mr van Doelen, very clear in her mind. She wondered what he would do when he got to Holland. Did he go home to a wife and children? Where was his home? And when would he return to England?