As far as they were concerned there seemed to be no recollection of any embarrassing moments in the past, so Bobbie determined that she too would behave as if there had never been a lovesick girl crying herself to sleep night after night, and within half an hour she was chatting away in her usual carefree, friendly manner. She knew that Nils and Sean had probably not the slightest idea that her father blamed them for her failure to get into university. He certainly would never have mentioned it and at the time he appeared to lay the onus for the unhappy episode solely upon Bobbie's own shoulders, telling her that he thought she had more sense than to allow herself to become hopelessly infatuated with so little encouragement.
But what Bobbie had not told her father was the impression of a lasting love which she thought she had seen in those ardent letters which still lay in her bureau. Both the brothers seemed to have vied with one another in expressing undying love, and at eighteen, with all her illusions intact, Bobbie had believed them both, her only problem at the time being which of the two she liked the best. She had sensed then that it was unusual for brothers to court the same girl, apparently without the slightest tinge of jealousy towards one another. At the time she had dismissed this also from her mind.
Now she sat in Aunt Jo's luxurious sitting-room and looked from fair tanned Nils to his darker brother. It hardly seemed possible that the three of them had ever been anything but the most casual of friends. True, the boys were being very attentive, but they were talking to her about purely impersonal matters and their mild teasing was inoffensive.
Bobbie was just thinking that this pleasant gathering was a happy termination to her country week-end when the door opened and Harry pushed his Swedish friend into the room. Immediately Bobbie felt as if she was dressed for a polite garden party in the vicarage garden. The two had evidently just come in from a day's outing and hearing voices had come straight into the drawing-room.
As Harry Redmayne introduced Sonja Osmark, Bobbie was struck into silence, hardly murmuring more than a conventional 'How do you do' as she shook hands in her turn. The time she had taken over her own appearance seemed wasted in comparison with this gorgeous-looking girl.
She was wearing slightly crumpled skin-tight slacks and a shirt which was unbuttoned a good deal more' than Bobbie's mother would consider proper for someone's drawing-room, but just the same as Sonja laughed through her tangled mass of blonde hair, and swept it back over her shoulder as she looked up and accepted a drink, Bobbie saw that every man in the room, even her sober father, had his eyes upon her. And after the reshuffle had taken place and everyone was seated again, Bobbie found that she was sitting quite alone, the twins having deserted her for a place on either side of Sonja on the broad settee across the room.
Try as she would, Bobbie could not prevent an envious expression creeping into her eyes as she watched Nils light a cigarette while Sean held Sonja's glass. As two minutes before they had been enchanting her with their undivided attention, now they had switched completely to this more glamorous addition to the circle.
She was quite startled when Harry Redmayne's voice said quietly into her ear, 'From the expression on your face you don't entirely approve of my little raver.'
Bobbie looked up, met his eyes, and saw a twinkle deep within their depths. 'I thought London would have made you grow up a bit. You're surely not jealous because my kid brothers are chatting her up?'
Bobbie looked away immediately and said coldly, 'Of course I'm not jealous. What have I got to be jealous about? Your brothers are nothing to me, you know.'
She did not realise that she had spoken rather loudly until Harry said quietly, 'Softly, my dear Bobbie. You don't want everybody to know that you'd give your eye-teeth to look like Sonja.'
Bobbie turned, a sharp retort on her lips, and then she saw that the mockery had deepened in Harry's dark grey eyes, and that he was looking down at her, both eyebrows raised. She flopped back in the chair and sighed, a faint blush burning her cheeks. 'I must admit to you, Harry, you're probably right. She really is something to look at, and I never could achieve that casual effect and look so gorgeous.'
There was a moment's silence as if Harry was astonished at her admission, but then he laid a hand on her shoulder. 'Don't be too hard on yourself, young Bobbie. You have your moments, you know.'
Bobbie's flush deepened. She was a little taken aback by this unexpected compliment from the one member of the family who normally paid her little attention. She had always rather regarded Harry as the big elder brother, but apart from treating him with the same cheekiness as did the twins she had not taken a great deal of interest in his doings. Of course she had been thrilled to be on friendly terms when he became famous. It was rather nice sometimes when his books were discussed to say that he lived almost next door and she had known him since she was a baby. On the other hand she rather looked down on name-dropping, so it was not often that she admitted that she knew the novelist Henry Redmayne so intimately.
But did she? she wondered as she looked up and saw that he was frowning across at the settee where his twin brothers were entertaining Sonja and she was shaking with laughter at some remark which Nils had made to her, very probably in her own language. At the outset Bobbie had noticed he greeted Sonja in Swedish, and she had seen the girl's face light up with delight.
Both Carol and her younger brothers were bilingual since they spent summer holidays with their Swedish grandparents, and Harry too had of course been taken along. It suddenly occurred to Bobbie that he too must speak Swedish fairly fluently. She looked up at him and as he glanced down she blurted out, 'Do you speak Swedish as well?'
Harry was silent for a minute and then he nodded. 'I can't say I'm quite as fluent as the boys. They're over there much more than I am. But I used to go with Mother and Sven when we were small, you know, and stay with Sven's mother and father.'
'Hence the Swedish girl-friend?' Bobbie asked.
Harry grinned. 'Oh no. That had nothing to do with it. I picked her for sheer looks alone.'
Bobbie could not help laughing and then noticed that her father was glancing at his watch. She was almost relieved to ask, 'Is it time we were going, Dad?' and when he nodded, got to her feet, assisted there by Harry's hand under her elbow. She glanced down for a minute in astonishment before she looked up and thanked him.
As they said goodbye and the family came out to see them drive away, Bobbie at the rear window could see that the twins were still on either side of the glamorous Sonja. Harry was going to get some competition, she could see. Not that he appeared to mind at all. He was talking to his stepfather and taking no notice of the tableau presented by his girl-friend and two attractive brothers.
CHAPTER TWO
When Bobbie came down the following month to see her parents there were no invitations to the Sorensen household. Joanna and her husband had gone away on holiday, Harry was abroad somewhere and the house was closed, her mother told her, busy herself with preparations for the cruise which she and Mr. Bentham were taking in a fortnight's time. 'I wonder if you'd come down the week after we leave, Bobbie?' she asked as they sorted summer clothes. 'I wouldn't really like the house to be empty for three whole weeks. The trouble is Mrs. Briggs next door will be away too, so she won't be here to keep an eye on things.'
'I think I could manage it,' Bobbie said. 'Marie's not taking her holiday until the end of September, otherwise I'd be stuck in town, and I still haven't made up my mind whether I want to go in with her in the business. She's really pressing me for an answer now and I just can't make up my mind to commit myself. It seems so final, and I'm afraid that once I've signed on the dotted line I might want to spread my wings and fly off somewhere else.'
Mrs. Bentham glanced at Bobbie's face. 'Well, if that's how you feel I'd definitely say no. You know the old adage, "When in doubt don't!" '
'Yes, but it seems so unfair to Marie to keep her dangling on a string, and yet it's a very tempting proposition, you must admit, Mum. Dad's accoun
tant said the books are in tip-top order and it looks as if we're heading for more prosperity, so I just can't think why I'm hesitating.'
Bobbie had still not reached a decision when she went down to clean the cottage ready for her parents' return from holiday. It seemed funny to find the cottage empty. It was not the same without her mother and father, pleasant though it was to go to bed in the quietness of the countryside, instead of with traffic rumbling beneath her window.
She was busily dusting the living-room on Sunday morning when she heard a step outside the open trench window and to her astonishment Joanna Sorensen stepped over the threshold.
'Thank goodness you're here,' she began at once. 'Jane said you'd be down during their holidays, so I thought I wouldn't bother to try and explain over the phone, but come along and see you for myself. We're in a terrible fix, or at least Harry is, and I want you to come and help him out.'
Bobbie stood there, a duster in one hand, quite bewildered by this flow of words. 'I don't think I quite understand, Aunt Jo.'
'It's Miss Battersby,' Mrs. Sorensen went on. 'You know she's been with Harry ever since he started writing.'
Bobbie smiled. Miss Battersby had always been a standing joke with the Benthams. She was rather a nondescript little lady somewhere between the ages of forty and fifty, and where Harry had found her nobody knew. Shortly after his first novel had been published she had been installed in the Sorensen house as his secretary and general factotum and had stayed ever since. She lived in because Harry liked to work at odd hours, and it was at about this time that he had built an annex on to the house as a workroom and office combined.
Bobbie herself had never been invited to inspect it. She only knew that Harry retreated there to work and it was absolutely out of bounds. Not even Nils and Sean had ever dared to step over the sacred threshold uninvited and invade Harry's privacy. He no doubt kept the door locked, but they had never even had the temerity to try the doorknob, so strict was the command that he was never to be interrupted.
From time to time when she had been up at the house Bobbie had seen Miss Battersby emerge, often looking tired and slightly dishevelled, and the thought had crossed her mind that she did not envy her position as Harry's secretary. No doubt he was rather demanding and quite ruthless about expecting her to work until late at night if he was in the throes of composition.
'What's the matter with Miss Battersby?' Bobbie ventured at length, coming out of her thoughts.
'Well, you'll never guess,' Mrs. Sorensen went on. 'She had her usual holiday this time when Harry finished his book and he was expecting her back last Saturday. He's already been researching for the last ten days, then last evening we received a cable saying she had met an old friend in Malta and was going to marry him immediately and stay out there. Just like that, with no warning at all. Harry about hit the roof, I can tell you, and this morning there's no doing anything with him. I had the sudden bright idea of coming over to see you. You run an agency, don't you? You can come and work for Harry until you can find a nice girl to come down and help him. He's done masses of notes on tape and now he's got no one to type it.'
'I don't know whether we could supply anybody to live in.' Bobbie's voice held rather a doubtful note. 'Has he tried the local agencies? There must be some nearer than London.'
'We can't do anything about that until tomorrow, and I thought if you could come up today and give him a hand perhaps that would calm him down a bit.'
Bobbie looked around helplessly. She did not want to refuse, on the other hand she had come down here for the purpose of giving the house an airing and doing some jobs for her mother. Now it looked as if she would have to postpone her own plans to go up and help Harry Redmayne out of a fix, and she did not fancy the prospect.
To start with she worked pretty hard all week herself and she disliked the thought of having to give up her free Sunday. She had hoped to have half an hour lazing in a deckchair this afternoon, but she found she could not refuse Mrs. Sorensen who was standing looking so anxious and with such a wistful expression on her face that Bobbie put down the duster and said, 'All right, I'll come, Aunt Jo. Wait while I wash my hands and go and put on a bit of lipstick.'
'Don't stop for that,' Mrs. Sorensen said. 'Come as you are. Harry won't notice whether you've got lipstick on or not, I can assure you. Once he's got his teeth into a book he lives in another world.'
If she thought these words were going to encourage Bobbie they had rather the reverse effect, and she was silent as they drove through the village. Harry as a rather casual acquaintance was one thing. As her virtual employer he might be something very different and perhaps not to her taste. She had got into the way lately of giving the orders instead of taking them. However, she was committed to see what she could do to help him today and she would not back down however disagreeable he might turn out to be.
But when they got up to the house and Mrs. Sorensen took her towards the door which led to Harry's sanctum, Bobbie discovered to her astonishment that she was feeling genuinely anxious about the result of the coming interview, and as Mrs. Sorensen pushed open the double doors which effectively shut out all sounds from the rest of the house, Bobbie was too interested and curious to see the inside of this holy of holies to feel truly nervous and apprehensive, so that when she laid eyes on a very tired and untidy-looking Harry, sitting behind an enormous desk at the end of the long room, her heart quite melted.
'Glory be, Mother!' he said as soon as he saw the two visitors. 'So you persuaded her to come. Thank heavens for that. Come along, Bobbie, get stuck into these tapes for me, there's a good girl. I must have them before I can get on. We can discuss terms later,' and before Bobbie could open her mouth to say one word of protest she found herself pushed into one of the smaller rooms leading out of Harry's comfortable office.
'Double spacing. Each note on a separate sheet of paper,' Harry said firmly as he put the tape on to the machine beside the typewriter. 'Now this switch starts the tape and this one…'
'You don't need to go into any more detail,' Bobbie interrupted. 'I can run a tape recorder without help. Go away if you want these tapes done and don't waste my time,' and she firmly shut the door on him before returning to sit down and look rather ruefully at the big typewriter on the table.
However, there was no doubt that Harry on the other side of the door would be listening for the tap of the typewriter keys, so she took up a sheet of paper and inserted it into the machine.
Scores of sheets and several thousands of words later Bobbie stopped typing. At least Harry dictated in a clear and concise manner. Only once had she had to reverse the tape in order to listen to a sentence again. Even the names, some of which she had never heard of before, were clearly spelled, so there could be no margin of error.
Busy with the tape, she had not noticed any sound from the adjoining room and then looking at the door again, for the first time she realised why. Harry would never have lingered outside this door to hear whether she had begun her work or not, for the simple reason that this too had been soundproofed. She collected the sheets together and opening the door went out into the big rectangular room.
It was very simply furnished. It had windows on two sides and a third wall was covered with shelves of books except where several filing cabinets stood, let in to a fitted cupboard. There was a large desk at the far end of the room under the window with tape recorders beside it. An enormous settee stood against the other wall with a tartan rug flung over the back and several easy chairs were dotted about. Harry was sitting at the desk reading an enormous book, but when he heard her open the door he looked up and watched her walk down the room towards him.
She slid the piles of notes across the desk, her eyes on Harry's face. He was still looking tired and a bit haggard, but a lot more relaxed than when she had seen him earlier. He reached out and took the notes and looked through them deftly before he glanced up at Bobbie. 'Well, you're much quicker and a good deal more accurate than my Miss Batter
sby,' he remarked. 'What can I say to persuade you to stay?'
'Nothing,' Bobbie replied without hesitation. And then feeling that her answer had been more than abrupt, she went on, 'You know as well as I do it's not possible. I've got a job to hold down in London, and there's even talk of me taking a half share in the agency.'
Harry leaned back in the big chair. 'Well, in that case there should be no trouble at all about you helping me out,' he replied easily. 'You don't even really have to ask the boss.'
'I certainly do,' Bobbie said. She was beginning to feel a bit heated. 'I said there was talk of a partnership. I didn't say there was one. I can't just ring up and coyly say I'm staying down here to help out an old friend. Now the best thing you can do is get in touch either with a local agency or one of the big ones in London and they'll find someone for you.'
'It's not as easy as that,' said Harry. 'I like to work odd hours and the girl must live in. Now you wouldn't mind, Bobbie, we've known each other a long time. It took me ages to find my Miss Battersby, and you know she was rather a queer old stick at that, though we did get rather fond of each other after a time. I simply can't understand why she's dashed off and decided to get married. I think she must be temporarily out of her mind. In the meantime, I'm left without a typist, and just when I've got my teeth into a new idea too. Couldn't you possibly do your Girl Guide good deed and stay on?'
'I've already explained to you—' Bobbie was losing patience with him.
'Why don't you ring up this boss of yours and at least ask her?'
'Do you mean now?'
'Why not?' Harry pushed the telephone across the desk towards her. 'She must be on the phone.'
'You don't suppose,' Bobbie's voice was heavily sarcastic, 'that she might be out enjoying herself somewhere? It is Sunday, you know. Or hadn't you noticed?'
Harry grinned. 'I'm well aware that it's Sunday, but when I get inspiration I'm afraid that all goes by the board. That's why I want to get someone congenial. I'm quite likely to start work at about nine o'clock at night.'
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