White Rose of Winter

by Anne Mather

  ‘Robert’s away, too.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I hear of nothing else in our home.’

  ‘Oh, sorry, of course!’ Julie laughed herself now. ‘I forgot about Pamela.’

  ‘Did you really?’ Francis was amused. ‘No easy task, I do assure you.’

  Julie laughed again. ‘I’m glad you rang,’ she said impulsively.

  ‘Are you? Why?’

  Julie sighed. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Just feeling a bit down, that’s all. I guess it’s the anticlimax of moving in. Oh – and of knowing the governess arrives on Sunday?’

  ‘The governess? You mean – Sandra Lawson?’

  ‘Yes. Do you know her?’

  ‘Lord, yes. She and Pam went to school together.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Julie recalled what her mother-in-law had said. ‘I’d forgotten.’

  ‘What’s wrong? Does she intimidate you?’

  Julie traced the pattern of the carpet with her toe. ‘She’s not going to,’ she said determinedly.

  ‘That sounds ominous.’ Francis chuckled. ‘Look, love, I didn’t ring to spend half an hour chatting to you on the phone. I want to see you. When?’

  Julie hesitated. ‘I don’t know. There’s Emma—’

  ‘Bring Emma, too. I tell you what – how about me coming down and you inviting me to lunch?’

  Julie drew her brows together. ‘I suppose you could,’ she said slowly, mentally anticipating what Robert’s reaction might be when he discovered from Emma, no doubt, that Francis had come for a meal.

  ‘Don’t sound too encouraging,’ remarked Francis dryly. ‘I might get the wrong impression.’

  ‘Oh, Francis, I’m sorry.’ Julie was laughingly apologetic. ‘Of course you can come for lunch. And as a special treat I’ll make you my pièce de résistance!’

  ‘That sounds interesting. What is it?’

  ‘Wait and see,’ replied Julie. She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s eleven already. Where are you?’

  ‘At home,’ he answered nonchalantly.

  ‘At home?’ Julie was shocked.

  ‘It’s all right, I’m in my study. No one can hear us.’

  ‘You make it sound so – so furtive.’

  ‘Do I? I’m sorry. All right, I’ll go out now and tell Louise and Pamela where I’m going, and no doubt they’ll come with me.’

  ‘Oh, Francis!’

  ‘Do you want them to come?’

  Julie sighed. ‘Of course not.’ She wanted to see Francis again, but Francis alone. He was so good for her, and she needed someone to talk to.

  ‘Well, then?’

  ‘Just come,’ she said huskily, and rang off.

  She had hardly time to change into a short-skirted red jersey dress and comb her hair before his car drew to a halt in front of the main door and Emma bounced through from the kitchen.

  ‘Is this Uncle Francis?’ she asked. Julie had had to tell Mrs. Hudson there was to be a guest for lunch, and Emma was obviously excited.

  ‘That’s right, darling,’ she answered, and opened the door.

  Francis looked years younger in cream casual trousers and a roll-collared brown jersey than in his formal town clothes, and Julie looked at him warmly.

  ‘Hi, honey,’ he said, tickling Emma under her chin and making her giggle. Then in an aside to Julie, he went on: ‘Don’t look at me like that, Julie, or I’ll begin to wish I wasn’t the nice guy you think I am.’

  Julie smiled. ‘Come along in,’ she said, not at all disturbed by his easy familiarity. Somehow Francis was different from any other man she had ever known. ‘I suppose you know your way around.’

  Emma bounded ahead of them into the lounge and he surveyed the room critically. ‘Yes, I know the place,’ he agreed. ‘This isn’t bad, is it? Considering my daughter chose the decorations!’

  Julie laughed and went across to the tray of drinks on the table in the comer. ‘What can I offer you? Sherry? Scotch? Or would you prefer coffee?’

  ‘Scotch will be fine. Can I sit down?’

  ‘Of course.’ Julie nodded and Francis subsided on to the couch with Emma beside him.

  ‘Where’s Auntie Pamela?’ she asked, with her usual lack of tact.

  Francis smiled. ‘At home,’ he replied complacently.

  ‘Didn’t she want to come with you?’ Emma was surprised.

  ‘Most likely, but I didn’t ask her.’ Francis accepted his Scotch from Julie, smiling more widely at her rueful expression. ‘I thought – she’s been to see Emma lots of times without asking me. Why should I ask her?’

  Emma looked suitably gratified at this. ‘Did you really come to see me?’

  ‘And Mummy,’ remarked Francis, sipping his Scotch. ‘After all, it would be rude of me to say that I just came to see you, wouldn’t it?’ He winked at her. ‘But we know, don’t we?’

  Emma gurgled with laughter and Julie sat down beside them. ‘Why didn’t you have more children, Francis?’ she exclaimed, before she could stop herself and realize what an impertinent and personal question she was asking.

  But Francis didn’t seem to mind. ‘It was not to be,’ he remarked lightly, and Julie quickly changed the subject.

  Lunch was a gay meal. Francis was adept at entertaining a child, and Emma obviously found him good company. After the dessert, a delicious strawberry shortcake which was Julie’s pièce de résistance, she insisted on taking him outside and showing him her swing and when Julie looked out of the kitchen window she saw them chasing one another round the summer house.

  Mrs. Hudson, who had not met Francis before today, gave Julie a strange look, and then said: ‘He’s a nice man, isn’t he? Lots of patience.’

  Julie sighed. ‘Yes. You know he’s Miss Hillingdon’s father, don’t you?’

  Mrs. Hudson nodded. ‘I realized that.’

  ‘And I suppose you also realize that he shouldn’t be here,’ murmured Julie dryly.

  ‘Why?’ Mrs. Hudson was always direct.

  Julie bent her head. ‘Well – surely it’s obvious. He has a wife, too, you know.’

  Mrs. Hudson busied herself with the dishes. ‘But it’s not like that between you two, is it?’ she said.

  Julie stared at her. ‘How can you say that? You don’t know the situation.’

  Mrs. Hudson shook her head. ‘I know enough about a man and a woman to know when they’re sleeping together,’ she replied firmly, and at Julie’s startled gasp, she went on: ‘Will Mr. Hillingdon be staying for dinner?’

  Julie swallowed with difficulty. ‘I – er – no, I shouldn’t think so.’

  Mrs. Hudson smiled. ‘Don’t look so shocked. I suppose I shouldn’t have said anything, should I?’

  Julie shrugged. ‘I’m glad – at least, there’s no one else I can talk to.’

  Mrs. Hudson smiled more widely. ‘Well, don’t worry about me. I know when to keep my mouth shut.’

  Julie gave her an exasperated look. ‘That sounds terrible, do you know that?’ Then she laughed. ‘Oh, Mrs. Hudson, you’re right. He is a nice man.’

  When Francis and Emma returned to the house, Mrs. Hudson was preparing afternoon tea, and Francis sank wearily into a comfortable chair in the lounge.

  ‘You’ve exhausted me!’ he complained to Emma, who immediately switched on the television and took up a position that could not possibly be good for her eyes.

  ‘It’s almost time for Play School,’ she explained, smiling at him. ‘You’re not really tired, are you, Uncle Francis?’

  ‘You’ve got to be joking!’ Francis regarded her in horror. ‘I’m not used to spending the afternoon dashing round the garden.’

  ‘It will do you good,’ said Emma practically, repeating the words that had from time to time been said to her.

  ‘I’m glad you think so.’ Francis looked up at Julie who had come in with the tea trolley. ‘Is there a cup for me?’

  ‘Of course.’ Julie smiled. ‘Are you going to stay for dinner?’

  Francis lost his bantering expression
. ‘I’d like nothing more,’ he answered honestly, ‘but I have to take Louise out this evening. We usually play bridge on Thursdays.’

  Julie nodded, not altogether disappointed. ‘Never mind.’

  Francis glanced at Emma, saw she was engrossed in her television programme, and reaching over took Julie’s hand. ‘Oh, Julie!’ he exclaimed impatiently. ‘Ask me to stay, and I’ll stay.’

  Julie withdrew her hand reluctantly. ‘Do you take sugar?’ she asked, breathing a little quickly herself.

  Francis nodded. ‘Two, please.’ He sighed. ‘Let me take you out to dinner. One evening this week. Before the dragon arrives.’ She knew he was referring to Sandra Lawson, and her lips twitched momentarily. ‘How about Saturday? That’s a good evening. Wouldn’t you like to get dressed up and go on the town? I’m sure Mrs. Hudson could cope with Emma.’

  ‘I’m sure she could.’ Julie ran her tongue over her dry lips. ‘It sounds – marvellous.’

  ‘It will be,’ he promised.

  ‘All right, then. I’ll ask her before you leave.’

  ‘Good.’ Francis took his cup of tea. ‘Believe me, the days will drag until then.’

  After Francis had gone, after the arrangements had been made with Mrs. Hudson, Julie felt terribly guilty. Once she had settled Emma down for the night, instead of going into the lounge as she usually did, she went into the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson was washing up the dinner dishes, and looked up with a smile.

  ‘Is there something you want, Mrs. Pemberton?’ she asked.

  ‘Just a chat,’ answered Julie, sighing and taking up a tea towel and beginning to dry the dishes on the draining board.

  ‘That’s not necessary, you know,’ exclaimed the housekeeper. ‘Talk if you want to, but I’ll manage these.’

  ‘I’d like to help,’ said Julie simply, and Mrs. Hudson said no more. ‘I – I was sick of my own company.’

  ‘Emma settled down all right?’

  ‘Oh, yes. She was worn out. It’s been a pretty strenuous day for her.’

  ‘And for Mr. Hillingdon, too, I shouldn’t wonder,’ observed Mrs. Hudson with a short laugh. ‘Fair wore him out, she did.’

  Julie smiled. ‘He is good with her, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. He should have had some youngsters of his own.’

  ‘Well, he had Pamela, years ago.’

  ‘Yes.’ Mrs. Hudson’s tone was revealing.

  ‘Don’t you like her?’ Julie was committing the unforgivable sin of gossiping about her guests with her servant, but she couldn’t prevent the question.

  Mrs. Hudson pulled a wry face. ‘Well, let’s say she’s not my cup of tea,’ she answered diplomatically.

  Julie nodded. ‘I know what you mean. A sort of – I do not like thee, Dr. Fell – kind of personality.’

  ‘That’s right.’ The housekeeper squeezed out her dishcloth and began to mop the draining board. ‘But no doubt I’m wrong. Mr. Robert seems to like her well enough.’

  ‘You know – Robert?’

  ‘Bless you, yes. I used to work for his mother, years ago. When both he and Michael were toddlers.’

  ‘Did you really?’ Julie was fascinated. ‘Oh, go on! Tell me about it.’

  ‘About Michael, ma’am?’

  Julie coloured. ‘Both of them.’

  Mrs. Hudson shrugged. ‘Well, they were little rips, that I do remember. Just a year between them, you know, and ripe for mischief.’

  ‘You can’t have been very old yourself then.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t. Seventeen or eighteen, that’s all. I was in service with Mrs. Pemberton senior.’

  ‘I see.’ Julie made a helpless gesture. ‘Heavens, what a small world it really is.’

  Mrs. Hudson nodded. ‘Well, when Mr. Robert bought this house and was looking for a housekeeper, he came straight to me.’

  Julie perched on a high kitchen stool. ‘Did you see much of them in later years?’

  ‘From time to time they’d come to see us, after I was married, you know. And when my Brian died, they were very kind.’ The housekeeper gave a reminiscent smile. ‘They always were nice boys.’

  ‘Yes.’ Julie tipped her head on one side. ‘Did you know I was once engaged to Robert?’

  Mrs. Hudson finished emptying her water and began to dry her hands. ‘Yes, I knew that, ma’am. I even received an invitation to the wedding.’

  Julie’s cheeks flushed. ‘Oh!’

  Mrs. Hudson sighed. ‘I would never have dreamed it would all be called off like that, and Mr. Robert going to Venezuela and all.’

  Julie slid off the stool. ‘It was his decision.’

  ‘What? To go to Venezuela?’

  ‘Yes. And to call off the wedding.’

  ‘But I understood he had to go, ma’am. There was an accident, wasn’t there? One of his men was killed, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. On the Guaba river valley project.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Mrs. Hudson warmed to her subject. ‘And Mr. Robert had to go out and take his place.’

  ‘He didn’t have to,’ stated Julie stoically.

  Mrs. Hudson looked perturbed. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that, ma’am. After all, sending out someone else would have been risky, wouldn’t it? Particularly as he himself was the only person to know all about the job. Apart from the man who was killed, of course.’

  Julie shrugged. ‘Well, it was all a long time ago.’

  Mrs. Hudson nodded. ‘Yes, and you couldn’t have loved him, could you, ma’am, ‘cos you married Mr. Michael and went off with him before Mr. Robert got back.’

  Julie moved towards the door. ‘Robert went away exactly one week before our wedding,’ she said through stiff lips. ‘Would your husband have done that?’

  Mrs. Hudson frowned. ‘That’s a difficult question to answer, ma’am. You mean – you and he quarrelled, because of this trip?’

  Julie caught her breath. ‘I didn’t say that.’ Mrs. Hudson was too perceptive.

  Mrs. Hudson shrugged. ‘Well, you know your own business best, ma’am. Like I said, you couldn’t have married Mr. Michael like you did, unless you’d had some doubts about Mr. Robert.’

  Julie opened the door. ‘No, well, let’s not discuss it any further, shall we? You can finish now, if you like. If I want anything later, I’ll get it myself.’

  ‘All right, Mrs. Pemberton, thank you.’ Mrs. Hudson took off her apron and folded it into a drawer. ‘I shall probably pop down to Mrs. Fielding in the village for an hour.’

  ‘That’s fine.’ Julie allowed the door to swing closed behind her and made her way back to the lounge. But suddenly the idea of spending a lonely vigil watching television had lost its appeal, and by nine o’clock she was climbing between the sheets, dry-eyed but depressed.

  Sandra Lawson arrived without warning on Saturday morning.

  Mrs. Hudson admitted her and Julie encountered her in the hall. ‘I hope you don’t object, Mrs. Pemberton,’ she said, standing down her suitcases. ‘But my landlady wanted to relet my flat from today, so I thought, rather than waste money spending the night at a hotel, I’d come here. After all, one day more or less won’t make any difference, will it?’

  Julie made a confused gesture. ‘I – well – Mrs. Hudson?’

  The housekeeper shrugged her ample shoulders. ‘The bed’s all made up, ma’am. No problem there.’

  Sandra gave Mrs. Hudson an appraising stare. ‘You must be Mrs. Hudson. Miss Hillingdon told me about you.’

  Mrs. Hudson inclined her head in assent. ‘That’s right, miss.’

  Julie twisted her fingers together. ‘Well, I don’t suppose it matters,’ she said at last. ‘Mrs. Hudson, would you show Miss Lawson her room and then make us some coffee?’

  ‘Very good, Mrs. Pemberton.’

  Mrs. Hudson indicated that Sandra should follow her up the stairs, but she made no attempt to assist her with her cases. Julie hesitated, uncertain of her own position, and then shrugging, walked back into the lounge as Sandra hoisted he
r own cases and followed the housekeeper with ill-grace. It was not an auspicious beginning.

  Julie stood in the lounge, staring unseeingly out of the window. Sandra’s arrival was going to create difficulties.

  Tonight, for instance, she was supposed to be going out with Francis. How could she do that without Sandra being aware of her escort, and he was Pamela’s father, after all. But there were other, more personal problems.

  Now that Sandra was here could she go off and leave her alone on her first evening? And if she did, what of her arrangement with Mrs. Hudson regarding Emma? Sandra might decide she was more suited to putting the child to bed in Julie’s absence than the housekeeper, and somehow Julie didn’t think Emma would care for that. They hadn’t discussed the governess’s arrival in any detail, but she had sensed that Emma had not exactly taken to Sandra Lawson.

  It was all very upsetting and annoying and Julie wished there was someone she could confide in.

  Emma came into the room, flushed and grubby from the garden. ‘Who was that in the taxi, Mummy?’ she asked, frowning.

  Julie sighed. ‘It was Miss Lawson, darling.’

  ‘But I thought you said she was coming tomorrow.’

  ‘I did. And she was. But the arrangements have been changed.’

  Emma grimaced. ‘Why? Will I have to do lessons today?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, darling. I don’t suppose you’ll start lessons for a few days yet. And look at those shoes of yours! They’re filthy! Go and put your slippers on if you’re staying indoors.’

  ‘Oh, all right.’

  Emma trudged moodily out of the room and Julie watched her go with an indulgent expression. Poor Emma! So many things had changed in such a short period of time. First Rhatoon, then Kuala Lumpur, London, and finally Thorpe Hulme. Was she beginning to doubt that anything would ever settle down to a routine again?

  On impulse, she dialled Robert’s London apartment. Halbird answered and Julie said: ‘Is Mrs. Pemberton there?’ ‘Sorry, ma’am, no. She’s out this morning. Shall I tell her you want to speak to her when she comes back?’

  Julie hesitated. ‘Er – no – no, that won’t be necessary, Halbird. Thanks.’

  ‘Very good, ma’am. It’s nice to hear from you again. Are you settled down now?’