But the years had gone by and time, she thought, had healed the hurt. Bobbie had gone to the nearest Technical College and taken a business course, and after that, eager to get away from any reminder of her own stupidity, she had gone to London. At first she had lived in a Y.W.C.A. hostel and taken a job in a big commercial firm as a small cog in the typing pool. But after twelve months the work had become so soul-destroying and monotonous she had decided to look around for something with more scope.
Quite by accident she had taken a job as a temporary typist in a bureau, and she had soon been asked to join the permanent staff. Marie Gibson who owned and ran the agency had not taken long to discover that in Bobbie she not only had a very highly skilled shorthand-typist but also a responsible and sensible girl who could easily be trained to take some of the burden of the agency off her shoulders. She had even begun to talk about a possible partnership in the not too distant future, and Bobbie had come home this week-end hoping that a suitable opportunity would occur for her to discuss this with her parents.
Though her father had never really approved of her taking an office job she could not commit herself to Marie without first getting responsible adult advice, and who better to give it to her than her mother and father. Mr. Bentham was too sensible a man to let his prejudices interfere with a logical and reasonable assessment of any given situation, and if she could get him in a really approachable mood, Bobbie knew that he would think the matter over carefully and give her an entirely unbiased view.
So far Marie Gibson had not discussed the money side of a partnership, but Bobbie supposed that this would have to be gone into. She had a small sum of money left to her by her godmother which she had invested carefully in a building society until such time as she required it. But she had no intention of committing her small capital without taking advice first.
Though the agency had expanded enormously since she had first gone there two years ago, no one could prophesy if the upward trend would continue, and perhaps Marie, or even she herself, might want to get married one day and sell out.
Bobbie sighed. It did not look as if she herself would be lining up for the matrimonial stakes, even though John Davenport was so keen. 'Faithful Dog Tray', Marie called him half scornfully when he came to call for Bobbie at the agency. He certainly was a very nice man, but about as exciting, Bobbie admitted to herself, as yesterday's cold rice pudding. If she married him she would have a secure contented life, everything taken care of, everything arranged meticulously well in advance, but with none of the heights and depths of bliss for which she secretly longed. When John came into view her heart did not miss a single beat, nor did she fancy she saw him in every dark-haired man she encountered. This, as she had read from books, was the acid test of whether one was in love.
She sighed and slowly started to get undressed and ready for bed. 'Sufficient unto the day,' she thought as she crept under the sheets. She would worry about emotional entanglements tomorrow.
But when the morning came she was far too busy trying to catch her father in an amenable mood. To make matters more difficult Mrs. Bentham had jobs she wanted done and no sooner had Bobbie started washing up than her mother came into the kitchen with a list in her hand. 'Your father's busy, he wants to get those roses attended to this morning,' she began, 'and I'm going to cook a hot lunch, so I wonder if you'd be a dear and do the week-end shopping for me? Oh, and I want you to take the car up to Pratt's, have the tyres checked and fill her up.'
When she had made her bed Bobbie put on a light dusting of powder and combed her hair. Collecting her mother's list and a shopping basket, she went out to open up the garage. It was good to get behind the wheel of a car again. She did not get much chance to drive in London, and anyway she had no car of her own.
She was stopped several times while she was in the village shopping by friends and acquaintances who wanted to know how long she was staying, whether she still enjoyed London or was it dirtier and noisier than ever, so it was nearly lunchtime before she drove up the hill to Pratt's garage. As she brought the car to a standstill beside the pump she noticed a rakish sports car standing in the forecourt and in it a very luscious blonde, examining her face and completely oblivious of Bobbie's interested stares and the outright admiration of the petrol pump attendant who could hardly take his eyes off her.
When she had given her order Bobbie strolled along to the office to have a word with Mr. Pratt and sign for the petrol on her mother's account. She was about to go up the two shallow steps and enter the office doorway when the door suddenly opened and a tall figure came out.
Immediately a laughing voice said, 'Well, hello! If it isn't little Bobbie Bentham! And how are you this fine morning?' and Bobbie looked up to meet Harry Redmayne's twinkling eyes.
She glanced into his face in silence for a moment while a cheeky grin appeared about her mouth, and then she looked saucily over her shoulder towards the sports car and then back towards Harry. 'I suppose I needn't ask who owns the car and the blonde,' she remarked impudently.
Harry grinned. Mockery was dancing in his eyes. 'Well, hardly. I expect Mother's told you I recently finished my latest opus? Now I'm having my usual fun and games before I get down to the hard work of the next,' he volunteered. 'Like the car?'
'Fantastic,' Bobbie answered, 'but then so's its present occupant. Where do you find them, Harry?'
Harry's grin was still tilting one corner of his mouth. 'Here and there. It's pure luck, of course. They seem to pop up just at the right time. This one hardly speaks any English. She thinks she's going to be the next Miss Universe,' and he glanced over Bobbie's head towards the car. 'Anyway, I rate her chances pretty high, and if I were ever asked to sit on the judges' panel she'd get my vote.' Abruptly he switched to another subject. 'When are you coming up to see us? It seems ages since you were up at the house.'
'This afternoon,' Bobbie replied. 'Mother and I are invited to tea.'
'Oh, good,' Harry said, 'I'll try and be in,' the mockery in his eyes was even more apparent, 'that is, if I don't get sidetracked.'
Bobbie laughed again as she passed him. 'Well, let's say au revoir until we meet again,' she remarked. 'I doubt very much whether you'll be present. The charmer back there looks as if she'd have other more interesting things in mind than afternoon tea,' and she went in to see Mr. Pratt followed by Harry's roar of delighted laughter.
There was certainly no sign of him when she and her mother and Joanna Sorensen met round the tea-table later that afternoon. Their conversation was interrupted almost immediately by Carol Coles, Joanna Sorensen's only daughter. She came in leading her two sons, Jeremy, now turned four, and James, an engaging two-year-old, and exchange of news was halted while Bobbie and Carol greeted one another and Mrs. Bentham and Mrs. Sorensen played with the two small boys.
James was soon sitting on Mrs. Bentham's knee, two bright eyes fixed on her face, a thumb in his rosebud mouth. He insisted on staying there to have tea despite an order from Carol that he occupy his own chair. While Bobbie's mother was popping morsels of bread and butter into a ready mouth, Joanna Sorensen, pouring out the tea, suddenly announced that she was expecting both her twin sons for a visit.
Nils, it seemed, had been in Sweden once more but was coming home this week-end especially to see Sean, who had been posted to an airfield only fifteen miles distant from Charlton Heath. 'I'm hoping they'll both arrive this evening,' Joanna Sorensen remarked to Bobbie. 'Perhaps you'd like to come over and have dinner with us?'
Bobbie hesitated. She was not sure the twins would be all that overjoyed to see her, and anyway she was certainly not going to be sitting around obviously awaiting their arrival. 'It's very kind of you, Aunt Jo,' she said, 'but I've rather a lot of things to do tonight and I've to go back fairly early tomorrow, so it doesn't give me much time.'
Mrs. Bentham glanced quickly at her daughter. Bobbie crossed her fingers, praying her mother would not give the game away and say there was really nothing planned for the week-e
nd, and then she saw her mother press her lips firmly together before she turned the conversation into other channels. Dear tactful Mum! She did not say much, but she saw a good deal more than one would think, and she had probably instinctively guessed Bobbie's reluctance to come up here and appear to be waiting for a crumb of attention from the twins.
It turned out to be a very sensible decision, because after the supper things had been cleared away, discovering there was nothing interesting on the television, Mr. Bentham turned it off and the moment had come, Bobbie saw, for her to ask advice about Marie's suggestion that she became a partner in the typing agency.
For an hour and a half the three of them talked things over, and then Mr. Bentham said, 'Well, I wouldn't commit myself yet if I were you, and before you do anything else I think Jones should look at the books. He'll be going up to London some time during the next few days and I'll get him to call in. It's a bit out of his way, but I expect he'd stretch a point. Do you think your Miss Gibson would mind if my accountant friend had a look at her ledgers?'
'I'm sure she wouldn't,' Bobbie assured him, 'not if she's on the level about wanting me to come in with her, and I think she is. After all, no one in their right mind would want to go into a business without finding out exactly how it stands. And in any case, Marie and I haven't yet discussed whether she wants me to put up any money. The agency's doing very well now, we've got a lot of extra girls on our books and business has been coming in by leaps and bounds. Just the same, it's seasonal. We get a lot more work in the summer, of course, when staff are away on their holidays. You can't always tell whether you can keep everybody employed full-time all through the winter months. Unless,' she added ruefully, 'we have another flu epidemic like we did last winter.'
'Well, you can't rely on that,' Mr. Bentham said, 'and if you're seriously considering accepting her offer, everything must be looked into properly beforehand. Now whatever you do don't put anything in writing, Bobbie. You understand that, don't you?'
Bobbie nodded. 'I wouldn't be as stupid as that. I shan't do anything without your advice, Daddy, you know that.'
Mr. Bentham nodded and the subject was dropped as Mrs. Bentham went out to make the bedtime drinks. It was not until she was lying in bed later that night that Bobbie realised that she had not spared one thought all evening for the Sorensen twins. Perhaps at long last she was getting over her girlhood infatuation for them both.
It was about time, she told herself. You can't stay in love with two boys who don't remember you're alive even, and whom you've seen only about a dozen times in the last four years.
Next morning when she was returning from church and saw them sitting in their car outside the Dog and Partridge she was not so sure. Her heart gave its well-remembered extra beat as she saw them sitting there laughing up at a girl who was leaning over the side of the car talking down to them.
One so dark and one so fair. Unless one knew they were twins the possibility would occur to very few. It was not until one got to know Nils and Sean well and saw how many similar mannerisms they shared and how alike were the two pairs of deep blue eyes that their relationship became obvious.
As Joanna and her mother drew abreast of the car, Sean in the driving seat opened the door and got out. He strolled across the road, smiled the heart-warming smile which had first stolen Bobbie's heart and said, 'Well, hello! Nice to see you both. Mother said you might drop in last night, Bobbie,' he continued. 'What kept you?'
'I told her I would be busy,' Bobbie said, and then immediately bit her lip. It sounded so abrupt, almost gauche, and she sought to tone down the atmosphere. But quickly her mother stepped into the breach. 'It seems ages since I saw you two. How're you keeping, Sean, and how's the Air Force?' Mrs. Bentham's voice was casually friendly.
'Fine.' He turned to smile at Bobbie's mother. 'Liking it more than ever. I've never regretted joining for a moment, although Nils tells me I'm a fool every time we meet. Come on over and have a word with him.'
As they went over towards the car Nils also got out and the girl faded away. He walked round the back of the car and shook hands first with Mrs. Bentham, then with Bobbie. He was very tanned, evidence of his holiday in Sweden. 'Great to see you,' he said, looking down into Bobbie's eyes.
Despite an inner warning voice Bobbie found her resistance melting at this attention and smiled back.
'How about coming up and having a drink before lunch? Mother's invited several other people.'
Mrs. Bentham immediately refused firmly. 'It's very nice of you, but the sermon was extra long and we're late already. My husband will be waiting for us. Perhaps another time,' and she smiled at both the handsome young men standing beside her.
'I'm sorry we can't offer you a lift. Only room for two, three at a squeeze,' Sean said, indicating the small, open touring car which he and his brother were using.
'That's quite all right, we like the walk home from church,' Mrs. Bentham assured him. 'Goodbye for now, I hope we'll be seeing you soon,' and taking Bobbie by the arm, she walked on.
It was not until they were well out of earshot that she spoke again. 'Nice-looking boys both of them, but I don't really envy Jo. They must be a source of constant anxiety to her.'
Bobbie turned amazed eyes on her mother. 'Anxiety? They aren't boys any longer. They're over twenty-five. Be your age, Mum. Nils and Sean cut their eye teeth long ago. What they get up to now is their own affair.'
'Is it?' Mrs. Bentham sounded grim, and Bobbie looked with astonishment again at her mother's unusually severe expression. 'Just wait until you're a mother yourself before you talk like that.'
'But I thought you'd always secretly envied Aunt Jo her lovely twins,' Bobbie remarked. 'Sometimes felt I was a disappointment to you and Daddy, turning out to be a girl.'
Mrs. Bentham squeezed the arm she was holding and laughed. 'Well, I personally always wanted a girl, and if your father was disappointed he's never mentioned it to me, so get that thought out of your head, Bobbie.'
When they arrived home they found Mr. Bentham stretched out in a garden chair enjoying a beer. 'I thought you cried off from going to church because you wanted to see to the rockery,' Bobbie's mother remarked mock seriously as she took off her gloves and hat.
Mr. Bentham waved an earthy hand, quite unabashed. 'It got pretty hot weeding and I reckoned I was entitled to a cold drink.' He changed the subject. 'How was the service? Sermon long?'
'Yes, I thought the vicar would never end. But guess who we met coming home?' 'Your friend Mrs. Fortescue?'
Mrs. Bentham pulled a face at her husband and then laughed. It was a family joke that Mrs. Bentham was supposed to be terrified of Mrs. Fortescue, a widow who lived in a large rambling old mansion facing the church and who fancied she ruled the village. She was certainly a very forbidding lady and the Benthams avoided her whenever possible.
'No, not la Fortescue, but Jo's twins, and looking much the same, don't you agree, Bobbie?'
Before Bobbie could reply her father interrupted. 'That reminds me—Jo telephoned. Wanted us to go up for drinks. I'd no desire to change out of my gardening trousers, so I told her we were tied up this lunchtime, but I said we'd call in and see them briefly this evening when we run Bobbie to the station. Is that all right?'
'Yes, Robert. That's fine. Bobbie's train leaves at eight-ten, so it will be a perfect excuse not to stay.'
Mr. Bentham's eyes rested thoughtfully on his wife. It was unlike her to want to cut visits to Joanna Sorensen short. Something was troubling her. And Bobbie, going upstairs to change into an old pair of jeans, had also noticed her mother's words.
Was she worrying that the mere sight of the Sorensen twins would upset her daughter? Bobbie made a small grimace at herself as she passed the landing mirror. She hoped her mother did not think she was so impressionable that she would make a fool of herself twice over. No, Bobbie thought to herself, once was enough. She was inoculated against Nils and Sean for life.
But this did not stop her we
aring her new sleeveless linen dress the colour of African violets that evening, along with the matching suede sandals, though she had originally intended to travel home in the jeans and 'granddad' shirt she had worn all afternoon to work around the garden with her father.
Such is vanity, she thought to herself when she caught her eye in the mirror as she was doing her hair. She had taken at least half an hour to apply her makeup before being satisfied with the results. At least I'll look my best and as if I'm on the crest of the wave, she thought to herself, as she turned and picked up her week-end case before going downstairs to join her mother and father.
They were both sitting looking supremely comfortable in two deckchairs outside the open french window, and her mother gave her a shrewd glance as she stepped out into the garden to join them, but she made no comment on Bobbie's immaculate appearance. Mrs. Bentham herself had changed out of the cotton frock she had been wearing and was now clad in a neat navy blue courtelle suit over a pretty flowered silk blouse.
When they arrived at the Sorensens' and Aunt Jo came forward to greet them Bobbie tried hard not to show that she was feeling unsure of herself. Although she had run across Nils and Sean several times since that halcyon period when she was eighteen, she was never quite at her ease in their presence, but they came forward to greet her in such a friendly manner that she found herself relaxing.
By the time drinks were served and everybody had sorted themselves out, she found herself sitting in an armchair, Nils perched on the arm gazing down at her while Sean on a small stool the other side engaged her in conversation.
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