But by lunchtime the following day, Mrs. Bentham had had enough. As they sat rather disconsolately drinking coffee and nibbling at a sandwich, after a frustrating morning without the glimmer of a promising wedding dress in sight, Bobbie's mother asked, 'Would you think it frightfully mean of me, darling, if I let you go on alone to Sloane Square? I don't feel I could face another escalator, lift or flight of stairs. All I can think of this afternoon is a comfortable bed, a pot of strong tea and a magazine to read.'
Bobbie laughed. 'Poor Mum! You've been a brick, and I'm not surprised you feel you can't face another shop. Neither do I, but I just won't be beaten. Some-where there must be something other than white lace and nylon for a bride. I'll carry on until five and then come back to the hotel. tonight we'll forget our shopping and eat out somewhere interesting.'
Half an hour later, after seeing her mother into a taxi, Bobbie got on the underground and made her way to Sloane Square. Away from her mother's observant eyes, Bobbie allowed her face to show the disappointment and fatigue she was feeling. Despondently she came out of the underground station, crossed the square and pushed open the doors of the big store on the corner.
It took her five minutes to find the lift and be taken up to the gown department, but when she stepped out and turned to face what she had anticipated would be yet another dead end, Bobbie stopped and a delighted smile crept across her face.
A wedding tableau including even the groom himself dressed ready for the great day stood facing her. Beside the groom, her face turned eloquently towards him, was the bride, dressed in figure-hugging ivory velvet, huge fur-trimmed sleeves sweeping the floor, her face framed in a fur-trimmed velvet hood. A small bridesmaid in blue, holding aloft a silver horseshoe, stood in front and a little to the rear stood the older bridesmaid.
It was on this figure that Bobbie's glowing eyes rested. The grown-up model too was in velvet, blue like the little bridesmaid, and her dress, almost identical with the bride's, had the same fur-trimmed sleeves. But instead of a hood the dress had a square neck, banded at the back with the same brown fur which trimmed the sleeves and across the bust-line embroidered in a simple beaded pattern. A plain blue velvet cap completed the outfit.
The assistant at her elbow must have spoken twice, because as Bobbie became aware of her presence she turned to meet an amused smile and a soft-voiced, 'Can I help you, madam?'
Bobbie nodded towards the group. 'Is it a size twelve?'
The salesgirl smiled again and nodded. 'Yes, and it will suit you, ivory is much more flattering for brown-eyed people. Would you like to try it on?'
'Yes, but not the bride's dress,' Bobbie explained, 'the bridesmaid's.'
If the salesgirl was surprised she was too well disciplined to show it. In five minutes Bobbie was in the fitting room and the dress was being zipped into place. They both stood looking at her reflection in the three long mirrors and then Bobbie turned. 'There's no doubt, is there? It might have been made for me.'
Later as she paid and waited for the dress to be boxed she glanced towards the figures on the dais, the poor bridesmaid unclothed now except for the velvet cap which Bobbie had not wanted to purchase. She knew exactly how she would put up her hair and a simple garland of flowers would be much more elegant and weddingy. Trying it on once again at the hotel later that evening for Mrs. Bentham's benefit, Bobbie had last-minute doubts. 'You don't think it looks too period and that people will think it a little kinky, do you, Mother?' she enquired.
'No, and since Harry spends half his life researching into the past he'll probably be very flattered when he sees you coming down the aisle.'
Bobbie smiled through the mirror. 'If he's going to feel half as nervous as me, he won't notice if I'm in a suit of armour,' she remarked, and her mobile mouth tilted in a smile.
Christmas was on them almost before they realised it. Somehow Bobbie managed to get everything done even down to most of the thank-you letters for the wedding presents which had started to arrive as soon as the notice of the forthcoming wedding had been put in the papers.
She moved back home to spend the last few nights under her parents' roof. There were only going to be twenty or so people at the ceremony and after a buffet lunch she and Harry planned a few days in the Cotswolds, taking their proper honeymoon in late January or early February when his book was in the hands of the publishers.
When she awoke on Boxing Day, Bobbie was glad she had chosen a warm material for her gown. The snow, which had been forecast the previous day, had arrived and she pulled back her curtains to look out on a hushed white world.
The only thing to mar her bright day was that Harry's sister Carol and her two boys were absent. 'We didn't want to worry you, Bobbie,' Aunt Jo said as they crowded into the vestry to sign the register, 'but James produced the most beautiful crop of spots last night and we had to get Dr. Jepson out of bed. It was chickenpox, as I thought, so Carol bundled him up and drove back home this morning. She sent you her love, of course, and says she'll be seeing you when Jeremy has had it, as she's sure he will.'
Jo Sorensen herself was going away as soon as the wedding was over. She and her husband invariably spent either Christmas or New Year with Sven's elderly parents in Stockholm, and this year were planning to stay a little longer than usual. It meant that for the first few weeks of their marriage Bobbie and Harry would have the house to themselves and it would make it easier for them to settle down. Everything was working out pretty smoothly, Bobbie thought, and she was delighted she would be starting married life without Harry's relations, even dear Aunt Jo, watching her every move. There were bound to be snags. They would be much more speedily ironed out in private.
But as the days went by following the wedding her confidence grew. The small hotel was warm and comfortable and the weather kind for the time of year, and each day passed in unspoiled enjoyment. Harry might have been an old hand at the marriage game, the way he treated every hurdle so matter-of-factly, and by the time they returned to Charlton Heath, Bobbie could scarcely remember a time when she had not been with him twenty-four hours a day. It seemed impossible to believe it was only four months ago that Aunt Jo had come down to the cottage and suggested she take Miss Battersby's place as Harry's secretary and even more impossible that it was just eight days since their wedding.
They delayed their departure from the hotel until after dinner and a hold-up on the road still further delayed them, so that it was after midnight when they reached home and drove into the familiar driveway. Even at this distance the sound of pop music could be heard, and as they turned on to the apron in front of the house itself it seemed to Bobbie as if there was a light burning in every room.
They sat for a moment in silence as the wail of guitars seemed to surge round the car. Then Harry, his expression forbidding, opened his door and got out on to the gravel.
Cars were parked at all angles on the drive and he had some difficulty in getting the boot open, but at last he unloaded their cases and led the way towards the front door. It stood open and from the steps they could see people draped all over the hall and up the wide carpeted stairs. Harry paused only a moment to glance around, his face grimmer than ever, before saying tersely, 'Come along,' and walking towards the staircase.
Bobbie knew what she would see before they reached their suite of rooms, but even her educated guess that it would be occupied had not prepared her for the state of the rooms she had left in immaculate order only a week ago. The couple on the settee were lost to the world of chaos about them. Glasses stood on every flat surface. A bottle of wine had been knocked off the table and a dark stain was still spreading over the carpet as Bobbie's horrified eyes discovered it. A long burn on the Queen Anne bureau by the wall showed where a cigarette had been carelessly dropped, while in the bedroom Liz Willoughby and some glassy-eyed stranger were sitting propped on the crumpled bed watching with all the solemnity of children while another guest made repeated efforts to transfer the contents of a plate of chicken patties
into the waste paper basket standing at four yards' distance.
Liz glanced round as Harry entered the room and hastily stood up. 'We didn't think you were coming back until tomorrow—' she began after one rather frightened glance at the expression on his face, and at his brief, 'So I would suppose,' she hurriedly collected her two escorts and pushed them out of the room, for all the world like a collie shepherding two rather silly sheep, Bobbie thought half hysterically.
Harry started picking up the pastry. He threw it on to the crumpled bedspread, gathered it into his arms and walked out of the room. 'Get ready for bed, I'll be back shortly,' he said tensely, and went away, shutting the bedroom door firmly behind him.
Bobbie carried all the used glasses and china out of the bedroom, tidied the sitting-room and then began to unpack. She would have liked to follow Harry downstairs, but did not dare. She was hanging up her things in the wardrobe when it suddenly struck her that the music down below had stopped and that she could hear sounds of departure.
Going to the window, she had a clear view of the lights streaming out on to the drive and people getting into their cars in almost a furtive manner, for there was a singular lack of those shouted 'goodbyes' which one usually hears thrown from car to car after a successful party. Eventually curiosity overcame her and she went into the corridor.
The lights were still burning in most of the bedrooms and Bobbie began to walk along the corridor switching them off as she went. When she reached the head of the staircase she could see that the big front door still stood open though the hall itself was empty. While she hesitated on the top step Harry appeared from the direction of the kitchen. He strode through the hall and entered the drawing-room, leaving the door open behind him so that his voice rose to her quite clearly.
'Everybody gone at last?' he enquired, presumably of his two brothers. 'Then in that case I think you'd better start clearing up. You can hardly expect Mabel to tackle all this in the morning.'
'Now wait a minute, Harry,' Bobbie couldn't decide whether it was Sean or Nils who spoke, their voices were too alike for her to distinguish one from the other. 'There was no necessity for you to come home behaving in such a high-handed manner. After all, it's as much our home as yours.'
'Correction,' Harry said, 'not quite.'
'What's that meant to imply?' came an angry retort.
'I mean the house is mine,' Harry explained, 'and has been ever since Mother married Sven. Under my father's will she gave up all claim to his estate on the day she remarried.'
'Why were we never told?' one of the twins enquired.
'It's never been necessary,' Harry said, 'and it wouldn't now if you hadn't taken advantage of the absence of both Mother and me to create havoc. I suggest you're both old enough to get a headquarters of your own where you can hold as many and as way-out parties as you please.'
'Oh, come off it! We've heard enough, Harry. We're not prepared to stand here and listen to you jaw at us any longer.'
'You'll stand there as long as I like,' Harry replied quietly. 'You're both twenty-five now, and it's time you started steadying down. I hope you'll regard this house as your home always and for as long as you like. But I won't have it used as a hotel, and I won't have my wife put out. Have you any idea what our rooms upstairs look like after your friends have been using them? You hadn't even the common decency to keep your guests down here on the ground floor. Well, that's all I have to say, but take my advice and be out of the house before I get down to breakfast in the morning. I just might start burning up again,' and he suddenly appeared in the hall and started taking the stairs two at a time.
Bobbie lost no time in turning tail. She had no wish to be found eavesdropping. By the time Harry got to their rooms she was back in the dressing-room, and when he entered she was to all intents and purposes just taking the last things out of her suitcase.
She looked up as he came in, gave a tentative smile and was relieved to see him smile back in return. 'Not in bed yet?' he enquired.
'I thought I'd unpack first,' Bobbie replied evasively. 'Has everybody gone? I heard the cars pulling away.'
'Yes, although there's a terrible mess downstairs. I've told the twins to start clearing it up.'
'I expect they only wanted a bit of fun,' said Bobbie. 'They're very young for their age and no doubt your mother and Sven rather inhibit them. I couldn't imagine your stepfather liking young people's parties and loud pop music. I don't suppose they're ever allowed to throw a party up at the flat in London, are they?'
'I've no idea,' Harry replied, and he swung round to look at her. 'Do you mean to say, Bobbie, after all that mess downstairs and the chaos up here, that you're still prepared to make excuses for Nils and Sean?'
Bobbie was silent. She could see from his expression that she had already said the wrong thing. In the hope of pouring a little oil on troubled waters she had only made matters worse, and in addition to which had given her husband the completely wrong idea that she sympathised with the twins and even condoned the way in which they had taken advantage of the empty house to entertain. It would not be they who would pay for all the food and drink which had been consumed this evening, nor for any damage that had been done.
The following morning Bobbie did not awake until Mabel came into the room and drew back the curtains. She turned, for a second rather confused, to find that Harry's place beside her was empty.
'What time is it, Mabel? I must have overslept.'
'Mr. Harry said I wasn't to disturb you until ten o'clock, then he thought you might like some tea and toast, so when I'd got through the first of the morning's work I laid your tray. Here it is. Sit up and I'll put a bedjacket round you, Miss Bobbie.'
Bobbie struggled into a sitting position and let Mabel make a fuss of her, although knowing all the extra work which she would have to do this morning to clear up after the boys' party she felt a little guilty. 'I suppose Harry was up at his usual time?' she asked as Mabel seemed disposed to linger for a chat.
'Oh yes, down to his breakfast as usual, but the others had already had theirs and gone.'
'You don't mean to say the twins were off and away before eight o'clock?' Bobbie's voice rose with astonishment.
Mabel nodded rather grimly and set her lips firmly together. Even to Bobbie she was not prepared to complain about her favourites, and Bobbie's heart went out to Harry. After her own defence of the twins the night before he must feel rather isolated, as if his two charming brothers could get away with murder.
Bobbie let the subject drop and for the next five minutes she and Mabel conversed amicably about, the weather the previous week, what the hotel had been like in the Cotswolds and various other safe topics of conversation. When she went downstairs some time later Harry was already hard at work, but to her relief he looked up and the usual special smile lit up his eyes as she started to walk down the room towards him.
'You were up bright and early,' she said, half jokingly, half accusingly.
'There's a lot to do before we get off on our proper honeymoon,' Harry answered. 'And by the way, where do you want to go? Have you decided yet, because I must start thinking about bookings.'
'Anywhere will do,' Bobbie said slowly. 'I don't mind so long as it's somewhere warm.'
'Don't sound too enthusiastic, will you?' Harry asked in reply, and from the tone of his voice Bobbie wondered if once again she had disappointed him, for there was just the faintest note of pique in the smooth deep tones.
Later that afternoon when she was typing he came into the small office. 'I'm afraid I shall have to go up to London the day after tomorrow,' he said. 'I don't suppose you want to come?'
'Not really. It would be an ideal opportunity to get all this finished,' said Bobbie, and she indicated the Ambrose Abbott manuscript and part three of the main book which still had to be typed.
'Well, I must go. Apart from seeing the publisher, and there are one or two things I must talk over with him, I want to fit in an appointment with my account
ant Will Cuthbertson,' Harry explained. 'I'll take up parts one and two, I think the rest can follow later. Leave the Ambrose Abbott saga. That's not nearly so important.'
Bobbie nodded. 'And I'll make preliminary bookings for our holiday,' Harry continued. 'If you're certain you've no preference…' and he waited a moment before turning to walk out of the room on receiving no response from her.
Bobbie sat gazing at the closed door with troubled eyes. Surely she and Harry could not already be on the brink of their first disagreement? she thought rather sadly.
On the Friday morning Bobbie was glad she had refused Harry's suggestion that she should accompany him to town. She had a slight headache when she awoke and the beginnings of a sore throat, and as the day wore on she felt steadily worse. By tea time she was beginning to feel feverish, and Harry's phone call, just as she was having to retype a page which she had spoiled, came as a distinct anticlimax.
'I'm afraid I shall have to stay up in town this evening,' he began. 'I could only see Cuthbertson after his office hours as he's so tremendously busy, and he wants me to go out and have a sort of business dinner with him. I don't know whether I shall be able to get back tonight. If we finish late I may go and stay at the flat.'
Bobbie hesitated on the end of the line and Harry's voice sounded suddenly anxious. 'Are you still there, Bobbie?'
'Yes, I'm still here,' she replied. 'All right, if you have to stay in town that's it, I suppose.'
'Not afraid, are you?' Harry asked. 'You have Mabel, after all, you're not in the house on your own.'
'No—' Bobbie's reply was hesitant. She did not want to tell him over the telephone that Mabel was out. She was feeling really ill now and the thought of having to spend the night alone in the big bed, to which she was not yet accustomed, made her feel apprehensive.
'I'm sure you'll be all right,' Harry said bracingly. 'I tell you what. If I can possibly manage it I'll come on home, but don't bank on it. Cuthbertson's a bit of a talker and if it's very late when I get away I may not feel like driving.'
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