Happy With Either

by Ruth Clemence

  Bobbie laughed. 'Don't worry, I'll see your privacy is kept intact,' she promised. 'Have a good time,' and waving a hand in his direction she turned and went into her office to type up the notes she had taken at the library.

  She had soon finished and after calling in to tell Mabel she was going home for the week-end she set off on the short walk down to her parents' house. They were of course very pleased indeed to see her, and her mother particularly so.

  'It's absolutely splendid,' she said when Bobbie explained that she was free until Monday morning. 'You'll be able to help on the stall. I didn't know whether I could count on you or not, so I haven't mentioned it, knowing what peculiar hours you have to work sometimes, but if Harry's gone away, there's no problem. What are the twins doing this year? They usually manage to put on something fairly exciting.'

  'Well, I don't know that they're going to turn up at all,' Bobbie said. 'Neither Nils nor Sean has mentioned it to me, and when I last saw Aunt Jo, she didn't mention it either. In fact I'd quite forgotten about the fete until Harry himself told me today that he wouldn't stay in Charlton Heath unless wild horses kept him here.'

  Mr. Bentham grinned. 'I don't blame him. They wouldn't keep me here either, my dear, if your mother didn't absolutely pin me down.'

  'Oh, you!' Jane Bentham exclaimed as she strained the potatoes and turned them into a vegetable dish. 'You know you really quite enjoy organising the youngsters' races. You do it every year quite willingly and this is the first time I've heard you complain.'

  True enough, Bobbie thought as she stared across at her father. He did seem to enjoy organising things for the young people, and he certainly did it superbly well. There were never any complaints about 'It's not fair. He shouldn't have won' when he was in charge of the proceedings. And in addition to this he never seemed to mind lending a hand with all the heavy equipment both before and after the sale was over. Perhaps, as Harry Redmayne had said, it was tolerable only if not held in your own home. At least Mr. Bentham did not have to discover alien feet treading all over his favourite plants and walking through his living-room.

  Saturday dawned a beautiful bright autumn day, and Mrs. Bentham heaved a sigh of relief as she prepared breakfast. 'Well, at least it looks as if it's living up to last night's weather report,' she remarked as she placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Bobbie. 'I couldn't have borne another fete like last year. It was raining on and off all the morning, and then it continued to drizzle most of the afternoon. To start with it kept a lot of people away and those who did turn up didn't part with their money as readily as they do most years. I suppose the grey weather must have got into their dispositions.'

  'Yes, Harry was saying that his mother had finally let people into the house.'

  'Oh yes. That was a fatal decision on Jo's part. They walked all over the house with muddy boots and made no end of a mess. We helped her to clean it up afterwards, of course, but someone had leaned something heavy against that lovely old chest in her hall and made a frightful mark on it. It was such a pity. I believe Jo had to send it away afterwards to have it professionally repaired. Of course, that's always the danger in lending your house for one of these charity affairs. Other people don't respect your property as you do yourself. Still, never mind, if this keeps up no one will need to go indoors at all, and it's no trouble at all to clear up the garden.'

  Bobbie did the week-end shopping for her mother and dusted round the house while her parents went and set up the stall. Mrs. Bentham came back and they had an early lunch so that she could take the flowers along at the very last minute. People had been very good donating cut flowers, pot plants and bulbs of every description, as well as a great variety of cuttings and roots which would do well if put into people's gardens at this time of the year. There were buckets and boxes everywhere as far as Bobbie could see as she glanced out of the french window, and it took her father several trips to and from the Sorensens' house before they had cleared the backlog.

  By the time Bobbie went up with the last load her mother had got the stall arranged, and with the help of another lady had started selling. Although the fete had not been officially pronounced open by the wife of their local Member of Parliament, people had been quietly making purchases in order to commandeer the best which the stall had to offer.

  Mrs. Bentham had provided herself with a stack of coloured tissue paper, and before the purchases were handed over they were quite professionally wrapped. It was proving to be a good selling point, because going round to the back of Aunt Jo's kitchen to collect another bucket of flowers, Bobbie heard two of the villagers saying how much nicer they had made the flower stall this year. One in the eye for Mrs. Fortescue, Bobbie thought to herself, and tucked the little anecdote away in the back of her mind to repeat to her mother later that evening.

  To her surprise the Sorensen twins had turned up in good time bringing along with them several of Sean's friends from the R.A.F. camp. Bobbie noticed Liz Willoughby wearing a violet trouser suit and looking very eye-catching, though perhaps not as sensational as she did in her uniform. With her was Dr. Hill and two others whom Bobbie did not recognise.

  With the help of these friends Sean and Nils had set up a booth to sell kisses, and the young girls of the village were already queueing to pay ten pence for the privilege of kissing one or both of the attractive Sorensen twins. As Bobbie staggered past with a box of carnation plants Sean shouted to her to come and pay her fee. 'What! Pay for something I can get for nothing?' she asked saucily over her shoulder as she hurried towards her mother's stall, and was still laughing when she arrived there, flushed and out of breath.

  Judging by the constant crowds around the 'Come and be kissed' booth it had been a very popular stall, Bobbie thought as later in the afternoon she passed it again. She was just helping her mother clear up and dispose of the dead blooms and plants which had been left unsold when she was caught firmly round the waist. 'You're not escaping without paying your ten pence this time,' a voice said in her ear, and she found herself looking into Nils' laughing blue eyes.

  'Haven't time now, and in any case no money with me,' Bobbie said firmly as she struggled to free herself.

  'Well, if you haven't time now perhaps we could rectify the omission later in the evening,' Nils suggested. 'Sean's taking us all back to a bit of a party at his station. How about coming?'

  Bobbie looked doubtful. 'Well, I think…' she began.

  'Sean!' Nils interrupted her, shouting to attract his brother's attention. 'Just saying to Bobbie here that she ought to join us,'

  Sean sauntered over towards them. 'Certainly she must come. You've nothing else on, have you? Harry's away, so you're bound to be at a bit of a loose end. That's settled, then,' he said before Bobbie could raise any further protest.

  An hour later, having helped to clear away the remnants of the sale and seeing her father and two others members of the parochial church council busy counting the sizeable takings, Bobbie found time to run upstairs to the bedroom she used in the Sorensens' house and tidy up quickly before going down to join the crowd of young people getting ready to leave for the party. She stopped long enough to ask her father to lend her a front door key, saying, 'I shan't be late, Dad. But don't wait up for me,' and at his nod slipped away to get into Nils' sports car, finding herself sandwiched between him and Tony Hill.

  The party started well. It was, Bobbie decided at first, a most convivial evening. She found the conversation interesting, the food lavish and the Air Force band which was providing the music rhythmic, up to date and not too deafening.

  But as the evening wore on she began to notice everybody was visiting the bar rather frequently. Dancing with Nils, she saw he was having difficulty in controlling his feet and was not sorry when he suggested sitting down. By midnight, with the possible exception of the young doctor, Tony Hill, most of the guests at the party had had a little more to drink than was advisable, and Bobbie began to wonder how she was to get home.

  When
it became time for her and Nils to leave, however, Bobbie discovered that Sean had decided to sleep out of the camp for the night and she would be accompanied by both the brothers. Tony Hill, sizing up the situation, came to her aid. 'Can you drive this car?' he whispered in her ear. 'Because between you and me I don't think either Sean or Nils are capable, and I wouldn't like them to be breathalysed on the way home.'

  'Yes, I think so,' Bobbie replied, and cast a quick look at his face. 'But will they let me?'

  Tony winked, and then deliberately raising his voice he said to Nils, 'I bet you wouldn't let Bobbie drive your old heap!'

  Nils immediately rose to the bait. 'Why ever not? Of course she can drive it—now, if she likes. Are you game, Sean? Shall we let Bobbie take the wheel? Do we trust her?'

  Sean was already sitting in the passenger seat. 'Certainly,' he replied owlishly. 'Come on, Nils, squeeze in and let the little lady try her luck.'

  Tony winked again at Bobbie as he opened the door and first Nils and then herself got in. 'I think you should be all right if they don't crowd you too much,' he said into her right ear as he closed the door. And throwing him a smile of gratitude Bobbie leaned down, turned the key in the ignition and engaged the gears.

  She took both the boys straight up to their house, and guessed that they had forgotten she was going home to sleep at her parents' cottage. Still, it would only take her ten minutes to walk home, and although the lanes were dark, she knew the way too well to be afraid.

  But when she got out of the car she realised that she was not going to escape so easily. Sean walked round the bonnet of the car and came up behind her. 'Well, I know you wouldn't play this afternoon, but I guess we owe you a kiss for driving us home, don't we, Nils?'

  Trapped between the two brothers, Bobbie looked up first at one and then the other, illuminated by the light which shone down from the portico of the house. 'It was my pleasure. No need for gratitude,' she said firmly.

  'Oh, we're not going to overdo it, but we can't let you go without saying thank you properly,' Sean replied, and without further ado he drew her into his arms and kissed her long and passionately on the mouth.

  Bobbie had hardly got her breath back when she was turned round into Nils' arms and dealt with in exactly the same manner. When she was finally released she found the two brothers were quietly laughing at her, their shoulders going up and down with silent mirth. She was just wondering whether they were sober enough to be ticked off when they both straightened themselves, saluted her and said in solemn voices, 'Well, goodnight, sweet maid,' and walking round the car they held on to each other for support as they walked up the steps to the front door.

  Bobbie stood and watched them. It was a waste of time to get angry with either of them. They did the most impossible things, but in such a disarming way that it rather cut the ground from under one.

  She shrugged her shoulders and turned away. Notwithstanding the embarrassment of having been kissed by both of them simultaneously it did not detract from their elusive charm. The only thing was that Bobbie knew they felt no more for her than if she had been a casual acquaintance they had met yesterday for the first time. They had learnt early to use their charm for their own amusement and to suit their own convenience without thought for the hurt it could cause.

  She was very thoughtful when she let herself into the cottage and got ready for bed. It was a side of the Sorensen twins which she had never before admitted to herself. The fact that these two attractive young men not only knew their effect on the opposite sex, but were quite prepared to use it whenever they wished to get their own way, was not a pretty thought. What shamed Bobbie to her very soul was that despite this, she still had a very soft spot where they were both concerned, and knew that if either lifted a little finger she would come running despite her better judgement.

  It would perhaps have been better for her peace of mind if she had never been inveigled into helping Harry Redmayne in the first place, because she might never have been brought into close contact with the twins once more, had she not been living in their family house. But it is too late now, she thought, climbing into bed. All the soul-searching in the world is not going to put the clock back.

  Sunday was an uneventful day. Apart from a phone call just before lunch from John Davenport the Bentham family had an uninterrupted day. Bobbie managed to put him off by apologising for the long silence and promising faithfully to let him know when she would be free to come up to London and see another show with him. 'I'm sorry I couldn't ask you down,' she said before she rang off, but gave him no explanation as to why she had been unable to do so. And as she put the phone down she thought she had treated him almost as badly as the twins had treated her and turned away with a long sigh.

  She was quite relieved when on Monday morning as she was preparing to leave the cottage she saw Harry drive up. He got out of the car, and reaching into the back produced two pheasants. 'I thought the parents might like these,' he said as he walked up to her. 'And it was an opportunity to save you a walk.'

  Bobbie found herself smiling up into his face, thanking him and asking him if he had enjoyed his week-end.

  'Absolutely wonderful. The weather was fabulous, the company was convivial and it was nice to get out on the moors again. My friend's got a rather nice place in Wales. I must take you over there some time.'

  Bobbie metaphorically raised her eyebrows as she took the pheasants inside and fetched her things. What an extraordinary comment for Harry to make! It was not the least likely that she would ever be seriously invited to go and spend a week-end with his friends. Although when she came to think of it, it was extraordinary she felt so much at ease in his company. A few weeks back she would never have believed it possible. Harry Redmayne had always kept in the background, always been a little remote. And she was surprised to find he was not only a likeable man, but a warm person too, with a touch of whimsicality she was beginning to like more and more.

  They were soon immersed in work at the house and it was quite obvious that Harry had returned refreshed from his short holiday and determined to make up for lost time. For the next four days he kept Bobbie hard at it, and she fell exhausted into bed each night, going to sleep the minute her head touched the pillow.

  She was really quite surprised when Saturday morning came round and she realised that a whole week had passed since the church fete. How quickly the time had gone. She could scarcely believe it. Harry seemed so satisfied with the week's work he told her that she could have Saturday afternoon and the whole of Sunday off. Bobbie knew this meant she would have to keep her promise to John Davenport, and rather reluctantly she picked up the telephone and dialled his number.

  It was agreed that they would do a show, have a meal afterwards and that John should return that night to spend the rest of the week-end with Bobbie's mother and father. She sighed as she put the phone down. This meant that she would have to go down and tell her mother and father. They would not object to her inviting a friend to stay, but Bobbie knew before she reached the family cottage the expression she would see in her mother's eyes—a mixture of curiosity and conjecture.

  It proved to be a curiously difficult week-end for Bobbie. Sitting in the restaurant with John that night, she looked across at his neat, immaculate, conservative appearance and almost unconsciously began to compare him with Harry Redmayne. Harry did not have hair on his shoulders, over-eccentric sideburns or any of the other way-out expressions of present-day fashion, but he had a much more casual way of dressing which, Bobbie now admitted to herself, made John look rather too conventional by comparison. In addition John's conversation lacked the spice of Harry's. He had a fund of little anecdotes or asides which often had Bobbie in fits of laughter as they worked together. John's attitude was quite the opposite. His whole demeanour said 'life is real, life is earnest', and Bobbie knew he rather looked down on trivialities and frothy nonsense which to her oiled the wheels of the daily grind.

  But her parents approved of him. Ov
er the preparations for lunch on Sunday morning her mother bubbed him 'A very nice boy, and such nice manners, my dear,' which made Bobbie sigh with exasperation. And her father monopolised him in the afternoon when he discovered that John had definite ideas on how the economy of Britain could be improved. They were still hard at it when Mrs. Bentham and Bobbie went out quietly to get afternoon tea. As she put the kettle on Mrs. Bentham raised her eyebrows in an expression which made Bobbie burst out laughing. 'It's no good, Mummy, you know what men are like when they get together. And it isn't often Daddy gets somebody to talk to these days, is it?'

  'No, I suppose you're right,' Mrs. Bentham admitted. 'Still, just the same, he did come down to see you, my dear. And he's hardly had a chance for two words with you all day.'

  'Oh, don't worry on that account,' Bobbie said as she took down cups and saucers, 'there's nothing serious between us.'

  Mrs. Bentham had hesitated for a moment as she cut bread and butter, and then she looked squarely across the kitchen table. 'Well, maybe not on your part, Bobbie, but there is on his, so be careful how you handle him. He's a nice boy and I wouldn't like him to get hurt.'

  Bobbie blushed. She had anticipated some sort of comment when she'd brought John down and she wished more than ever that she had not been obliged to invite him to Charlton Heath. It would have been so much easier if her parents had only known of him as a casual friend in London. Now they would expect to see him again and require a proper explanation as to why she had dropped him.

  Really, everything was becoming terribly complicated, Bobbie thought. All of a sudden she was uncertain of which way to turn. Life had been going so smoothly of late too. It was all the fault of Aunt Jo persuading her to work for Harry. If Miss Battersby had not suddenly decided to get married she would not be in this confused state, torn between enjoyment in the job she was doing, confusion at having John trying to make himself a definite part of her future plus the fact that the Sorensen twins now both seemed to be back in her life. It gave Bobbie an unsettled feeling.