Roses Have Thorns

by Betty Neels

  Mrs. Boot, who had greeted Mevrouw Nauta and received, very much to Sarah's surprise, a hug and a kiss from the Professor, turned to smile at her. "Here's Miss Sarah, got here an hour ago. We've just been looking over the house."

  "So nice to see you again," declared Mevrouw Nauta. "And now, tell me how you are-you look so well; you were far too thin… And how providential that Lady Wesley should have you in her household." She looked at her son. "Isn't it marvellous, Radolf?"

  He said coolly, "Hello, Sarah. I'm sure you will look after my mother. Boots, dear, I do have to get back to town, so could we have lunch as soon as possible?" He looked at his mother. "You wouldn't object, my dear?"

  "Of course not, Radolf. Sarah, come upstairs with me while I tidy myself. Radolf, pour us a drink, will you, we will be less than five minutes."

  Sarah hadn't said a word-she hadn't really had the chance. She followed Mevrouw Nauta upstairs and into her room, and the lady said, "I shall have a nap after lunch, and that will give you a chance to get to know the house. It's rather lovely, isn't it? My mother left it to Radolf, and he likes to spend his weekends here."

  So that accounted for the high-handed way he had asked to have lunch earlier, thought Sarah.

  Someone might have told her, although, on second thoughts, she really had no right to expect anyone to tell her anything.

  She unzipped Mevrouw Nauta's small travelling-case and handed out comb and powder and lipstick, opened all the windows while Mevrouw Nauta was in the bathroom and took a quick peep at herself in the looking-glass. She wasn't looking her best, but that was because she was uncertain as to what happened next. Was she on the same level as Mrs. Boot, or was she to have her meals in the dining-room, and should she ask?

  She didn't need to. The Professor was in the hall, surrounded by his mother's luggage. He said, "You'll come to the drawing-room for drinks, Sarah, and have your meals with my mother. You may be an efficient housemaid, but in this house you are my mother's companion."

  He didn't smile, and his voice was as detached as his manner. There seemed no point in replying to him. She went past him, following Mevrouw Nauta as she swept into the drawingroom and took a chair by the french windows, which were open on to the garden. "Come and sit by me, Sarah," she commanded. "I believe that I am going to enjoy my stay here. Do you drive a car?"

  Sarah accepted a glass of sherry. "Well, I can drive-I have a licence, but I haven't driven for years."

  "It's quiet round here," said Mevrouw Nauta expansively. "We shall be able to go for nice little drives, Radolf. Is that Mini still in the garage?"

  "Yes, Wills-'Wills was the gardener "-uses it from time to time. There is no reason why Sarah shouldn't drive it. It's easy, and as you say the roads around here are fairly quiet. I might suggest that she takes it out on her own until she is confident that she can manage it."

  Sarah took a sip of sherry and ground her teeth with temper. The Professor was obviously bent on being his nastiest self. Well, he could needle her as much as he wanted to. She remembered his kiss and her face flamed, and he watched the soft colour flood over her ordinary face, transforming it into prettiness.

  Lunch was leisurely and elegant, and so was the conversation. The Professor, a practised host, eased her into their talk with an evanescent skill, touching upon one impersonal topic after another so that presently she lost her stiffness and began to enjoy herself. So that when, as they rose from the table and Mevrouw Nauta declared that she was going to her room to take a nap and that Sarah was to amuse herself until teatime, her son remarked that it might be a good idea if he were to show Sarah round the gardens before he went, Sarah was perfectly amenable. It was hard to imagine that this pleasant man with beautiful manners was the same impatient and irritable one who seemed to dog her footsteps. Not that that mattered-she supposed that she would love him forever, bad temper and all.

  It was obvious within minutes that he loved his home, and when they had strolled round the grass paths, discussed the display of flowers and stood by the clear, narrow stream running through one corner of the grounds, he took her to the cluster of outbuildings behind the house.

  The stables held a donkey, living out his days in peace, an elderly horse that used to draw the cart Wills favoured when he fetched stores from Witney, and a gentle pony. "Mother has a small governess-cart. She likes to drive herself round the local lanes," explained the Professor. There were two cats and a nondescript dog sleeping in the yard, and as the Professor stopped to pat the beast Sarah asked, "You said you had a dog, didn't you? Why didn't you bring her with you? Doesn't she like the country?"

  "Trotter loves it. She's at the vet's being trimmed and generally looked over. I'll bring her with me next time."

  "Do you come often?" she asked, and wished that she hadn't when he answered, after a pause,

  "Whenever I can," in a cool voice which abruptly warned her not to ask any more questions.

  They were walking back to the house, and she said matter-of-factly, "If you don't mind, I think that I should go and unpack so that I'm ready for Mevrouw Nauta. Thank you for showing me the garden, it's beautiful."

  She smiled up into his unsmiling face, wishing that she was beautiful and rich and exquisitely dressed and knew how to make him smile. She gave a little nod and walked away after a moment, for he had nothing to say.

  Charles had gone to sleep on the balcony but he opened one eye as she went in. "We'll go down to the garden presently," she promised him, "but I must wait until Radolf's gone. I wonder when he'll come again? Because if he does, I must do my best not to be here." She picked up the cat and he sat in her arms, purring. "I would like him to be here," she explained, "but it won't do. He doesn't like me. I've done my best, but I'm too ordinary." She gave a great sigh. "He does need a wife so badly-if only I were different, I would do nicely." She gave a great sniff, put Charles down and opened her case.

  By the middle of the week she was forced to admit that Mevrouw Nauta really didn't need a companion. She enjoyed perfect health, was never at a loss for something to do and would, Sarah considered, have been perfectly happy by herself. All the same, life was very pleasant, for they enjoyed the same things: gardening when Wills allowed them to, driving the pony and trap around the narrow lanes, playing Demon Patience in the evenings, listening to the vast selection of records in the small sitting-room with the doors open on to the garden. Once Sarah had got over her initial uncertainty, they talked like old friends.

  Mevrouw Nauta, probing gently into Sarah's life, liked what she heard, and in her turn let fall an occasional tit-bit about her son. "I become quite worried," she stated untruthfully, "for Radolf works too hard. It is ten years since he was jilted by a most unsuitable girl, and he seems to think that all women are as faithless as she was. So like a man, my dear. Still, I have high hopes that he willl marry soon."

  They were having tea in the garden, and Sarah put her cup back in its saucer with a sudden jerk which sounded too loud in the rural quiet around them. "Oh? That will be nice for him-for them both," she said inanely.

  Mevrouw Nauta, sitting upright in her chair, spoke cheerfully. "Yes, Sarah, it should be very nice. And it will last- Radolf is not an impetuous man, he will be very sure."

  She handed her cup for more tea. "These scones are delicious, I'll have another. You are not bored here? You must have a free day each week. Do you wish to go shopping or go to a cinema or visit friends?" She gazed at Sarah and added carelessly, "Radolf will be down late on Saturday, and he will spend Sunday here. We might all go for a drive…"

  Sarah bent to stroke Charles, who had come into the garden to sit beside her. "Would you mind if I had Sunday off, Mevrouw Nauta? I don't need to buy anything, but I met the vicar yesterday and he asked me to go to lunch after church. He has several children, and he thought we might have a walk and a picnic tea…"

  Which was almost true for she had been invited, but the invitation had been a vague suggestion and certainly not for Sunday. Her compani
on agreed readily. "How pleasant for you. We shall be coming to church with you, of course." A remark which sent Sarah into a flat spin.

  The week inched its way to Saturday and Sarah, despite her good resolutions, had washed her hair, done her nails and taken great pains with her face. She would have liked to have put on the new rosepatterned outfit, but that might have looked as though she was trying to get the Professor's attention. She got into the better of her cotton dresses and discovered that she need not have bothered, for by ten o'clock that evening he hadn't arrived.

  "Don't wait up, Sarah," said Mevrouw Nauta. "If you would just go along to the kitchen and ask Mrs. Boot to make sandwiches and leave some coffee on the Aga, and perhaps a bowl of fruit with the sandwiches, and put my room ready as usual? Oh, and pop into Radolf's room and see that the bed is turned down and so on. Goodnight, Sarah."

  Dismissed and disappointed, Sarah found Mrs. Boot, gave her the messages and accepted a cup of tea, which she drank as she listened to Mrs. Boot's complaints about her varicose veins with real sympathy. "Not that I should complain," said Mrs. Boot. "Mr. Radolf, he's forever asking me how my legs are-I've had them done once, had a room all to myself and ever such kind nurses-up at St Cyprian's, that was. Such a dear little boy," she reminicsed. "Not good, mind you, always up to mischief, but he loved his old nanny-he always said when he came home from school for the holidays that when he was a grown man I should look after his house for him. And he kept his promise. I know he's got a house in London, and a very nice one too, but this is his home. Time he married." She beamed at Sarah. "You go off to bed, love, I'll see to the sandwiches."

  Sarah, lying awake, heard the car drive up soon after midnight. She turned over and went to sleep then; she would see him at breakfast.

  She was downstairs as usual in time to help Mrs. Boot bring in the splendid breakfast Mevrouw Nauta enjoyed. She was arranging the hot-plate on the sideboard when that lady came in.

  Her good morning was brisk and cheerful.

  "Radolf has had his," she told Sarah. "He has gone for a walk, and he will be back in time for church." She talked on so that Sarah had little need to answer, and presently she went away to get ready for church and Sarah cleared the table. The daily women didn't come on Sunday and, although Mrs. Boot had never asked for help, Sarah knew she was grateful for it.

  There was time to make the beds and tidy the bedrooms and bathrooms before Sarah, in the rose-patterned dress, went downstairs again.

  The Professor was in the hall faultlessly turned out, sitting in one of the armchairs reading a newspaper. He glanced up as she reached the bottom step and got to his feet, looking her over. "Very nice," he commented blandly. "For my benefit?"

  She said pointedly, "Good morning, Professor Nauta. I have my day off. I am going out to lunch after I have been to church."

  He raised his eyebrows. "That's quick work." His mother came down the stairs then, and he went on, "But let us by all means go to church first."

  They went in his car, and in church she found herself sitting between mother and son. She said her prayers and sang the hymns in a small, sweet voice, and didn't hear a word of the sermon. She was too busy wondering how she could contrive to slip away after the service without her companions knowing that she wasn't going to the vicarage.

  Kindly fate was on her side. As they left their pew, Mevrouw Nauta spied friends. "The Saunders," she said to her son. "We should go and speak to them." And so Sarah was able to slip away and mingle with the small crowd round the church door and then take herself off.

  Pleasure at the ease with which she had got away didn't last long. She had no idea where to go. To stay near the village wouldn't do at allshe might be seen, and although the pub stood invitingly open, she didn't dare go in. The village was a chatty place, and sooner or later someone would pass on the news that she had been seen in the village when she should have been at the vicarage. Without appearing to do so she studied the signpost at the village centre. She didn't want to go to Brize Norton . Swinbrook sounded all right, and she remembered that Mrs. Boot had said something about a small wood there. She walked off briskly. She was wearing the wrong shoes for a country walk, but there was no help for it. Once she was out of sight of the village she slowed her pace; she had the rest of the day and it was only a mile or two. The country was gently hilly and well wooded, and she strolled along, thinking about the sandwiches she would eat presently and the glass of lemonade to go with them. She would stay out for tea as well, she decided, and opened the pochette she had taken to church. She had more than enough money with her…

  There was a twopenny piece and five pence hiding away under her hanky, and nothing else. She remembered that she had hurriedly thrust a hanky and some money into her pochette just before she left her room-she hadn't counted it because Mevrouw Nauta had wanted her for something. "Fool," she said out loud. Seven pence wouldn't buy her anything at all. She would have to find somewhere to rest and then go back-there was nothing else to do.

  She walked on for a little way until the lane narrowed between woods, and presently she saw a likely spot. A hillock, quite near the lane, nicely shaded and covered in grass and moss. There was a tree to lean against too, and she made herself comfortable with her back to the lane, closed her eyes and, since there was nothing else to do, went to sleep.

  It was very quiet in the wood and there was nothing to disturb her. She woke several hours later and sat up. The Professor was sitting beside her; he had discarded his exquisitely tailored grey suit and was wearing elderly slacks and an opennecked shirt. He wasn't looking at her and his profile looked to her to be an ill-tempered one.

  She gave a tentative cough and said, "Hello," in a rather small voice, and he turned his head.

  "What in the devil's name do you think you're doing?" he harshly demanded.

  "You should watch your language, Professor," said Sarah severely. "And it's none of your business."

  "I will use whatever language I want to, and I choose to make it my business. What in heaven's name possessed you to tell a string of lies about lunching at the vicarage-?"

  She interrupted him. "How did you find out? And they weren't quite lies-the vicar said he would ask me to have lunch, but he didn't say when."

  "So why pretend you were going there today?" His eyes were blue steel, and she suppressed a shiver. And, when she didn't answer, "Because I was at home?"

  "Well, yes, I suppose so."

  "I see. In future, arrangements will be made for your day off when I am here so that there will be no need for us to meet." He glanced at her. "Will that suit you?"

  She wanted to agree with dignity, but instead she felt her throat close over tears, which were going to burst into a flood at any moment. Everything had gone wrong: he was cold hearted and mean and arrogant and she loved him to distraction and far worse, for the moment at any rate, she was famished. The tears had their way, and she wailed in a miserable hiccup, "I'm so very hungry…"

  He put an arm round her and offered his handkerchief. "I would imagine you would be," he observed reasonably, "since it is almost four O'clock. Now, dry your eyes and tidy yourself and we will find somewhere for tea."

  His voice sounded different now, unhurried and friendly and just sufficiently sympathetic. She supposed that that was how he spoke to his patients. She mopped her face and put a hand up to her hair.

  "Oh, hopeless," said the Professor. "Take it down and tie it back." He fished in a pocket and handed her a piece of string. "Here, turn round."

  "Thank you, you are very kind, but you don't need to ask me to tea, I'll go back-I must explain to Mevrouw Nauta. Is she very angry?"

  "Not in the least, although she did wonder why you went to such lengths."

  She gave a final sniff. "Do I look awful?"

  "I have seen you looking better."

  A reply which annoyed her very much. "I am afraid I have spoilt your afternoon," she said haughtily. "Do please go to-to wherever it was you were going."
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br />   "I was looking for you. Not a difficult task that dress shows up for miles." He got to his feet and held out a hand. "Come along." He whistled and Trotter appeared from the bushes, gave a pleased bark at the sight of Sarah, and accompanied them to the car. The dog got into the back and stood leaning her head between them as the Professor drove away. He didn't go fara mile or two down the lane to the next village, where he stopped outside a small, cosy-looking pub. He offered no information and Sarah, urged to get out, did so without demur. The three of them walked round to the back of the pub and went in through a side door. The kitchen was comfortably furnished and lived-in, with an old-fashioned gas oven against one wall and a great stone sink under the far window.

  There was an elderly woman sitting at the table, and the Professor said, "Hello, Meg, may we come to tea?"

  She looked very like Mrs. Boot, and Sarah wasn't surprised when he said, "This is Mrs. Prior, Mrs. Boot's sister and an old friend. Miss Fletcher and I are longing for something to eat."

  "Bless you, Mr. Radolf, there's the kettle on the boil and one of my fruit cakes." She studied Sarah's woebegone face and added, "And if you're hungry, I've just collected some eggsa nice boiled egg, perhaps, and some of my scones and jam and cream."

  The Professor planted a kiss on her round cheek. "Bless you, Meg, it sounds delightful. May we have it here with you? Where's Dick?"

  "Gone over to Smallbone's farm to get some of his bacon." While she was talking she was setting cups and saucers and plates on the table. "Sit down while I boil the eggs. Home for the weekend, are you? And how's London?" She smiled at him. "When you were a little boy you always said you'd never live there."

  "Beggars can't be choosers," said the Professor gravely.

  "Go on with you, Mr. Radolf, you're no beggar, though I suppose there's not much work for you in these parts." She glanced at Sarah, and said, "You'll be the young lady companion for Mevrouw Nauta, Miss, my sister was telling me…"

  Sarah smiled rather shyly, out of her depth. The Professor had seemed so angry when she had first woken up, and now here he was chatting away to this nice, comfortable soul as though he had known her all his life.