by Betty Neels
Halfway down the stairs she stopped. ‘You arranged everything, didn’t you. Mother being operated upon so quickly, having a private room, Briggs driving us to and fro…’
‘Yes.’ He had stopped beside her, his face impassive.
‘I didn’t mean a word of it,’ she burst out. ‘All that about you not having any feelings. I—I was taken by surprise and frightened for Mother, but that’s no excuse.’ She took a couple of steps down. ‘You don’t have to take me back; I feel awful.’ She stopped again and added fiercely, ‘You must know how I feel, calling you all those awful things, and you still helped Mother. If you never want to speak to me again I’d quite understand.’
He said placidly, ‘What a silly girl you are, Kate.’ He made it sound like an endearment. ‘True, I have satisfaction—not pleasure—in nailing bones together, as you put it. And I do enjoy dancing—but not with Claudia. And, contrary to your opinion of me, I do know how to love.’
They had reached the bottom of the staircase. Kate’s tongue ran away with her. ‘If you’re going to marry Claudia you ought to enjoy dancing with her,’ she said foolishly.
‘Why, yes, I suppose I should,’ he agreed. ‘Now come along; the car is round in the consultants’ car park.’
She went with him, silent now. He had called her a silly girl and she supposed that she was—and if that was what he thought of her, she had indeed been silly to fall in love with him. She got into the car and answered his casual observations about her mother in a stiff little voice.
At the house he got out of the car with her, walked her to the kitchen door, opened it, bade her a cheerful goodnight and waited until she had gone inside before walking to the front door.
Tombs, on the look-out for the car, was waiting to open it for him. Mr Tait-Bouverie greeted him with a gentle thump on the back. ‘I have just returned Kate to the kitchen,’ he told him. ‘Mrs Crosby is doing very well. Is my aunt in the drawing room?’
‘Yes, Mr James, and there’s coffee and sandwiches. You’re no doubt hungry…’
Mrs Braithewaite was sitting by the fire, swathed in a shawl and with her feet on a stool. She looked decidedly elderly sitting there, but there was nothing elderly about her voice.
‘Come in, James. I must say, this is a fine time of day to call on me. I should be in bed…’
He bent and kissed her cheek. ‘Aunt Edith, you know, and so do I, that you’re never in bed before midnight.’
‘An old woman of my age…’ she began, and then went on, ‘Oh, well since I’m here…pour yourself a whisky and you can give me one, too…’
He poured a small drink for her, added ice and gave himself a more generous drink. ‘You shouldn’t be drinking spirits at your age,’ he told her mildly.
‘At my age I’ll drink anything I like!’ she told him. ‘Sit down; where’s Kate?’
‘I would suppose that she has gone to her home.’
His aunt chuckled. ‘Was she surprised to see you? Did you sweep her off her feet?’
‘Oh, she was surprised. But it hardly seemed the right moment to behave with anything but the utmost circumspection.’
‘Oh, well, I suppose you know best. How’s your mother?’
‘Very well. Aunt Edith, when is Mrs Willett returning?’
‘Hah! I might have known you had some scheme up your sleeve. In two weeks; it seems she has made great progress. She will come back here, of course, and your Kate will have to go.’
‘Splendid. It will be too far to take Mrs Crosby up to Mother’s. I intend to offer her the cottage at Bosham. When Kate leaves here, she will join her there…’
‘Will she? She might not want to, James. Aren’t you taking a lot for granted?’
‘Possibly. It’s a calculated risk, isn’t it? But she will have nowhere else to go.’
‘You’re a prize catch, James—good looks, money, well liked, well known in your profession, comfortable ancestral home, even if it is in the north, fashionable house in town, cottage at Bosham. I’m surprised that Kate hasn’t flung herself into your arms.’
‘Kate doesn’t care tuppence for any of that,’ said Mr Tait-Bouverie. ‘She’s proud—the right kind of pride—and she’s in love with me and won’t admit it because she has this bee in her bonnet about Claudia, Lady Cowder’s god-daughter. She has this idea that I’m on the point of marrying the girl. The last thing I would ever do. Lady Cowder has put it about that we are to marry, and Kate believes her.’
‘But surely you told Kate?’
He shook his head. ‘No. There is a great deal that I have to tell Kate, but only at the right moment.’ He sat back in his chair. ‘And now tell me, how do you feel? All the excitement of your birthday party must have shaken you up a little.’
He drove himself back to London presently, and he thought of Kate every inch of the way.
CHAPTER NINE
MRS CROSBY made an uneventful recovery, and, although Kate was unable to visit her everyday, twice during the following week Briggs took her in the car in the evening when her work was done. She spent her days off in Bath, seeing her mother in the morning and afternoon. Mrs Crosby was out of bed now, walking about, and looking, truth to tell, better than she had done for some weeks—and she listened to Kate’s plans with every appearance of interest.
‘Mrs Willett is coming back in a week’s time,’ Kate told her. ‘So I shall be leaving very soon now. I’ve been looking in the local paper; there are several jobs I thought I’d try for. Whichever one I’m lucky enough to get will have somewhere where you and Moggerty and Horace can live with me. Once we’re settled I’ll go to the bank—there’s enough money saved for me to ask them for a loan. Isn’t it exciting?’
Her mother agreed, reflecting that Kate didn’t look in the least excited—nor did she look happy. The temptation to tell her of Mr Tait-Bouverie’s visit was very strong, but she resisted it. Not that he had said much, only that she and Kate weren’t to worry about their future.
‘I can’t think why you’re doing this for us,’ Mrs Crosby had told him.
He had smiled a little. ‘Oh, but I think you can, Mrs Crosby. If you will leave everything to me…,’ he had said.
She had nodded. Before he’d taken his leave of her he had bent and kissed her cheek.
Mr Tait-Bouverie, home late from the hospital, was greeted by Mudd with the promise of dinner within half an hour—and the information that Miss Claudia Travers had telephoned. ‘She wishes you to join a few friends at the theatre tomorrow evening, sir, and would you phone her back as soon as you returned.’ Mudd managed to sound disapproving. ‘I informed her that you would probably be late home.’
‘Splendid, Mudd. Come into the study, there’s a good fellow…’
Once Mudd was seated opposite him, with the desk between them, Mr Tait-Bouverie said, ‘Mudd, the mother of the young lady I intend to marry has been ill. I think it would be a good idea if she were to convalesce at the cottage at Bosham. Mrs Squires sees to the place when we’re not there, doesn’t she? Do you suppose she would go each day and cook and clean and so on while Mrs Crosby is there? It may be necessary for you to go down from time to time and make sure that everything is as it should be. She will be joined by her daughter very shortly.’
‘You won’t be going down yourself, sir?’
‘Oh, very probably, but I can’t always be sure of getting away.’
‘You mentioned that you would be getting married,’ said Mudd.
‘Yes, indeed—once I can persuade Miss Crosby that she wishes to marry me.’
Mudd looked taken aback. Mr Tait-Bouverie had been the target of numerous young ladies for a number of years, all of them ready to fall into his lap at the drop of a hat. Here was a young lady who needed persuading. Mudd reflected that she must be someone out of the ordinary. As long as she didn’t interfere in his kitchen…
‘I shall notify Mrs Squires of your wishes, sir,’ said Mudd. ‘If you could give me a date? She will need to make beds and air the
place and get in food.’
‘It might be as well if you go down yourself and make sure that everything is just so, Mudd. Thursday week—eight days’ time.’ Mr Tait-Bouverie was lost in thought. ‘If I can manage a day off I’ll drive you down early in the morning and leave you there, then go on to Bath and collect Mrs Crosby, bring her to Bosham and drive you back here with me.’
‘Miss Crosby?’ ventured Mudd.
‘She won’t be free for another day or so. I’ll fetch her then.’
Mudd went away then to prepare the dinner, leaving Mr Tait-Bouverie sitting there with Prince’s great head on his knee, lost in thought. When the phone rang he lifted the receiver and heard Claudia’s shrill voice. ‘James, didn’t you get my message? Why haven’t you telephoned me?’
Mr Tait-Bouverie said smoothly, ‘Yes, I had your message, Claudia. I’m afraid that it is a waste of time including me in your social activities—indeed, in any part of your life. I feel that our lives are hardly compatible. I’m sure you must agree.’ Because he was a kind man he added, ‘I’m sure that you have a host of admirers.’
Claudia snapped, ‘Yes, I have, and they’re all young men,’ and slammed down the receiver.
Mr Tait-Bouverie put down the phone, quite unmoved by this reference to his age. ‘When I’m seventy,’ he told Prince cheerfully, ‘our eldest son will be the age I am now.’
Prince rumbled an answer and blew gently onto his master’s hand, waiting patiently for Mudd to come and tell them that dinner was on the table.
Mrs Crosby was to leave hospital the following day and Kate had packed a case of clothes to take to her. Mr Tombs had told her that she might have the time off to take them during the evening. ‘But see that you are back in good time,’ he had told her. ‘One must not take advantage of Mrs Braithewaite’s generosity.’
So Kate, carrying the case, got into the car with Briggs and made her way to her mother’s room. ‘Will you be all right?’ she asked Briggs anxiously. ‘Where will you wait? I may be half an hour at least…’
‘Don’t you worry your head, Kate, you come back here when you’re ready.’
Her mother was sitting in a small armchair, and it struck Kate that she looked guilty—but she looked excited too.
She kissed her parent and asked, ‘What’s the paper and pencil for? Are you making lists?’ She opened the case. ‘I brought your tweed suit and a woolly, and your brown shoes; you won’t need a hat. I’ll unpack them and leave the case to put your nightie and dressing gown in when I come to fetch you.’
She glanced up, saw her mother smiling at someone behind her and spun round. Mr Tait-Bouverie, immaculate as to person, pleasantly remote as to manner, was standing just inside the door. He shut it quietly and said, ‘Hello, Kate.’
Kate said, ‘Hello.’ And then, ‘Why are you here again?’
He put his hands in his trouser pockets and leaned against the door. He looked enormous. ‘Your mother is going to convalesce at my cottage at Bosham. She will be well looked after by Mrs Squires, who takes care of the place for me. You will be able to join her as soon as you leave Mrs Braithewaite’s.’
Kate stared at him. ‘High-handed,’ she said at length. ‘That’s what you are—arranging everything behind my back.’ She rounded on her mother. ‘You knew about this, but you didn’t tell me…’
‘Well, darling, it seemed best not to, for I thought you would object.’
‘Of course I object. I can take care of you at the cottage…’
‘I understand that you will be leaving there within the next few days,’ observed Mr Tait-Bouverie pleasantly. ‘Have you found somewhere else to go?’
When she didn’t answer he added, ‘Kate, your mother will need a little while to get absolutely fit. The cottage is empty; a short while there will give you time to find another job. No one will bother you, you can go job hunting knowing that your mother is in good hands.
‘I knew that you would dislike the idea simply because it was I who instigated it, but you will see nothing of me. Stay there until you have found something to your liking and move out when you wish to. I am sure that you agree with me that your mother’s health is more important than any personal feelings you may have.’
Beneath the pleasant manner was a hint of steel. He had, reflected Kate crossly, managed to make her look selfish. She said stiffly, ‘Very well. If you think that is the best thing for Mother, we accept your offer. It is most kind of you, if you’re sure that it will be quite convenient? I’ll ask for my free day and take Mother to Bosham. But Mr Tombs will want a day’s notice, so if Mother could stay here for another day?’
‘No need. I’ll drive her there myself tomorrow morning, see her safely in and go on back to town. You will be free very shortly, I take it?’
‘Yes.’ She saw that wasn’t going to be enough and added, ‘Mrs Willett comes back in two days, and I’m to go three days later.’
Mr Tait-Bouverie, who knew all that already, nodded. ‘Splendid.’ He went to Mrs Crosby and took her hand. ‘I’ll be here for you about ten o’clock tomorrow. You’ve been a model patient.’
He went away quietly with a brief nod to Kate, who watched him go with her heart in her boots. Nothing could have been more polite and thoughtful than his manner towards her—and nothing, she reflected bitterly, could have been so uninterested. She thought fleetingly of Norway—they had been friends then. Of course, he would never understand that it was loving him that made it so difficult to accept his kindness, knowing that he didn’t care for her in the least.
Her mother’s voice roused her. ‘Isn’t it marvellous?’ she wanted to know. ‘It gives us a breathing space, doesn’t it, darling? There’s just one thing—would you be able to send on some more of my clothes? I’ve only got one of everything in the case, haven’t I? And the nightie and the dressing gown here.’
‘I’ll ask Mr Briggs to bring me back. If I go home now I can pack a few things and bring them straight here. I’ll bring the rest with me when I leave. Mother, what about Horace and Moggerty?’
‘Oh, James said he’d deal with that…’
‘How, Mother?’
‘I’ve no idea, but if he says he will do something he does it, doesn’t he?’
All the same, thought Kate, I’ll have to make sure. She emptied the case, told her mother that she would be back as soon as possible and sped down to the hospital entrance. Mr Briggs was nowhere to be seen, but Mr Tait-Bouverie was. He took the case from her, took her arm and popped her into his car before she had time to utter a remark.
‘Mr Briggs,’ she managed. ‘I must see him—he’s got to bring me back—Mother’s clothes—you don’t understand…’
‘Briggs has gone home. I’ll drive you back and wait while you pack whatever your mother needs. No need for you to come back here; I’ll see that she gets them.’
She could think of nothing to say as he drove her back. She would have to apologise; she had been absolutely beastly to him. If he had been angry it would have been easier… She tried out one or two suitable speeches in her head but they didn’t sound right—but until she had told him that she was sorry it was hard to behave with the same friendliness which he had shown. It would be much easier if she didn’t love him so much…
He went with her to the cottage and sat patiently with the cats on his knee while she flung things into the case. As well as clothes she grabbed her mother’s modest make-up, more wool for her knitting, a writing pad and more shoes. She carried it down to the sitting room and found him asleep. Somehow the sight of him made it easy; there was no need for speeches.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve been horrible to you, and you’ve shown us nothing but kindness, and I feel awful about it. I hope you’ll forgive me.’
He had opened his eyes and was watching her. He wasn’t smiling, and he looked politely indifferent. He said coolly, ‘You have made such a colossal mountain out of a molehill that you can’t see the wood for the trees, Kate. Rather a mixed metapho
r, but really true.’ He got up. ‘Is this all that your mother needs? Have you any message for her?’
‘No, thank you. There’s a note in the case.’
Kate watched him walk to the door. He had said that he wouldn’t be going to Bosham while they were there—she wouldn’t see him again and he hadn’t said that he’d forgiven her, had he? She swallowed back tears and wished him goodbye in a polite voice.
He didn’t answer that, but said, ‘Don’t worry about the cats; some arrangement will be made for them.’
He had gone before she could assure him that she would take them with her when she went.
When she was sure that he had gone she sat down at the table in the kitchen. Horace and Moggerty came and sat with her, and presently she got up and fed them, made a pot of tea, drank it and went to bed. She was still the cook, and had to be up and about by seven o’clock.
Although she was tired she slept badly, but once her day had begun she worked her way through it in her usual calm and unhurried way. It was as they were finishing their midday dinner that Tombs, who had been called away, returned and told her that he had received a telephone call from Mr Tait-Bouverie to say that Mrs Crosby was installed in the cottage at Bosham and was well.
‘I have ascertained the telephone number, should you wish to speak to your mother. You may use the kitchen telephone, Kate, after six o’clock.’
It was almost eight o’clock before she found the time to do so. She smiled at the sound of her mother’s cheerful voice. It had been a lovely drive to Bosham, said Mrs Crosby, they had stopped and had coffee on the way and the cottage was delightful, and so comfortable. Mrs Squires had been waiting for them with James’s man, Mudd.
‘Such a nice person, Kate, and so efficient. I have a lovely room, and Mrs Squires is sleeping here until you come. James and Mudd went off just before tea, back to London. Mudd told me that James has a house there.’ Mrs Crosby was bubbling over. ‘Kate, he’s thought of everything. The local doctor is coming to make sure that I am well, and he’s left me his phone number.’