by Betty Neels
Too soon to start worrying, Emma told herself as she laid out some of the sixty pounds on a chicken for Sunday lunch and one of the rich creamy cakes from the patisserie which her mother enjoyed.
To make up for her horrid Saturday, Sunday was nice, warm and sunny so that she was able to wear a jersey dress, slightly out of date but elegant, and of a pleasing shade of blue. After matins, while her mother chatted with friends, a pleasant young man with an engaging smile introduced himself as Mrs Craig’s son.
‘Here for a few days,’ he told her, and, ‘I don’t know a soul. Do take pity on me and show me round.’
He was friendly and she readily agreed. ‘Though I have part time jobs…’
‘When are you free? What about tomorrow morning?’
‘I must do the shopping…’
‘Splendid, I’ll come with you and carry the basket. We could have coffee. Where shall I meet you?’
‘At the bakery at the bottom of Main Street, about ten o’clock?’
‘Right, I’ll look forward to that. The name’s Brian, by the way.’
‘Emma,’ said Emma. ‘Your mother is waiting and so’s mine.’
‘Such a nice boy,’ said her mother over lunch, and added, ‘He is twenty-three, just qualified as a solicitor. He’s rather young, of course…’ She caught Emma’s eye. ‘It is a great pity that you sent Derek away.’
Emma quite liked shopping, and she enjoyed it even more with Brian to carry her basket and talk light-heartedly about anything which caught his eye. They lingered over coffee and then went back through the town to collect sausages from the butcher. His shop was next to one of the restaurants in the town and Brian paused outside it.
‘This looks worth a visit. Have dinner with me one evening, Emma?’
‘Not on Tuesday or Thursday; I work at the library.’
‘Wednesday? Shall we meet here, inside, at half past seven.’
‘I’d like that, thank you.’ She smiled at him. ‘Thank you for the coffee; I’ve enjoyed my morning.’
Miss Johnson was grumpy on Tuesday evening and Mrs Brooke-Tigh was more than usually high-handed the following day. She couldn’t find fault with Emma’s work, but somehow she managed to give the impression that it wasn’t satisfactory. Which made the prospect of an evening out with Brian very inviting. Emma put on the jersey dress once more and went along to the restaurant.
Brian was waiting for her, obviously glad to see her, and sat her down at the small table, ordering drinks.
In reply to her enquiry as to what he thought of the town he smiled wryly. ‘It’s a charming little place, but after London’s bright lights… What do you do with yourself all day long?’
‘Me? Well, there’s the library and the shopping, and all the chores, and we’re beginning to know more people now.’
‘You don’t get bored? My mother likes living here; it’s a splendid place for elderly widows: nice hotels, bridge, coffee, reading a good book in the sun, gossiping—but you are rather young for that.’
‘I’ve been coming here ever since I was a small girl. It’s a kind of a second home, although most of the people I knew have left the town. But I’m quite content.’
They went to their table and ate lobster and a complicated ice cream pudding, and finished a bottle of white wine between them, lingering over their coffee until Emma said, ‘I really must go home. Mother insisted that she would wait up for me and she sleeps badly.’
‘I’m going back on Friday. But I’m told there’s a good pub at Hope Cove. Will you have lunch with me there? I’ll pick you up around twelve-thirty?’
‘Thank you, that would be nice. If you like walking we could go along the beach if the tide’s out.’
‘Splendid. I’ll walk you back.’
They parted at the cottage door in a friendly fashion, though Emma was aware that he only sought her company because he was bored and didn’t know anyone else…
Her mother was in her dressing gown, eager for an account of her evening.
‘You’ll go out with him again if he asks you?’ she enquired eagerly.
‘I’m having lunch with him on Friday.’ Emma yawned and kicked off her best shoes. ‘He’s going back to London; I think he is bored here.’
‘Mrs Craig was telling me that she wishes he would settle down…’
‘Well, he won’t here; that’s a certainty.’ Emma kissed her mother goodnight and went to bed, aware that her mother had hoped for more than a casual friendship with Brian.
He is still a boy, thought Emma sleepily, and allowed her thoughts to turn to Dr van Dyke who, she suspected, was very much a man.
Miss Johnson was still grumpy on Thursday evening, but since it was pay day Emma forgave her. Besides, she was kept busy by people wanting books for the weekend. She felt quite light-hearted as she went home, her wages in her purse, planning something tasty for the weekend which wouldn’t make too large a hole in the housekeeping.
Friday was warm and sunny, and she was out early to do the weekend shopping for there would be no time on Saturday. Her mother was going out to lunch with one of her new-found friends and Emma raced around, getting everything ready for cooking the supper and, just in case Brian wanted to come back for tea, she laid a tea tray.
He came promptly and they walked through the town to the car park. He drove up the road bordering the estuary onto the main road and then turned off to Hope Cove. The road was narrow now, running through fields, with a glimpse of the sea. When they reached the tiny village and parked by the pub there were already a number of cars there.
The pub was dark and oak-beamed and low-ceilinged inside, and already quite full.
Brian looked around him. ‘I like this place—full of atmosphere and plenty of life. What shall we eat?’
They had crab sandwiches, and he had a beer and Emma a glass of white wine, and since there was no hurry they sat over the food while he told her of his work.
‘Of course I could never leave London,’ he told her. ‘I’ve a flat overlooking the river and any number of friends and a good job. I shall have to come and see Mother from time to time, but a week is about as much as I can stand.’ He added, ‘Don’t you want to escape, Emma?’
‘Me? Where to?’
‘Mother told me that you lived in Richmond. You must have had friends…’
‘My father went bankrupt,’ she said quietly. ‘Yes, we had friends—fair-weather friends. And we’re happy here. Mother has made several new friends, so she goes out quite a lot, and I’m happy.’ She went on, ‘If you’ve finished, shall we walk along the cliff path for a while? The view is lovely…’
She hadn’t been quite truthful, she reflected, but she sensed that Brian was a young man who didn’t like to be made uneasy. He would go back to his flat and his friends, assuring himself that her life was just what she wanted.
They drove back to Salcombe presently, parked the car at the hotel and walked back through the town.
Outside the bakery Emma stopped. ‘Don’t come any further,’ she suggested. ‘If you are going back today I expect you want to see your mother before you go. I enjoyed lunch; Hope Cove is a delightful little place. I hope you have a good journey back home.’
‘I’ll leave within the hour; it’s quite a long trip. I’ll be glad to get back. Life’s a bit slow here, isn’t it? I wish we could have seen more of each other, but I expect you’ll still be here if and when I come again.’
‘Oh, I expect so.’ She offered a hand and he took it and kissed her cheek.
Dr van Dyke, coming round the corner, stopped short, wished them a cheerful hello and gave Emma a look to send the colour into her cheeks. It said all too clearly that she hadn’t wasted much time in finding someone to take Derek’s place.
He went into the baker’s, and she bade a final hasty goodbye to Brian and almost ran to the cottage. The doctor would think… She didn’t go too deeply into what he would think; she hoped that she wouldn’t see him again for a very long time.
‘Thought I’d let you know I’ve given in my notice. She’s furious; she’ll never get anyone by Wednesday. Wouldn’t hurt her to do a bit of housework herself. Mind she doesn’t expect you to take on any more work.’
Emma was stripping beds. ‘I don’t see how she can…’
‘She’ll think of something. I’d better get on, I suppose. Bye.’
Mrs Brooke-Tigh came back earlier than usual; Emma was setting the tea tray ready for the next tenants when she walked in.
‘That girl’s leaving,’ she told Emma without preamble. ‘She never was much good but at least she was a pair of hands. I’ll never get anyone else at such short notice. We will have to manage as best we can. I shall notify the next two weeks’ tenants that they can’t come in until six o’clock. If you come at nine o’clock and work until six you can do both cottages. I’ll pay you another fifteen pounds a day—thirty pounds a week more.’
Emma didn’t answer at once. The money would be useful… ‘I’m willing to do that for the next week and, if I must, the second week. But no longer than that.’
Mrs Brooke-Tigh sniffed. ‘I should have thought that you would have jumped at the chance of more money.’ She would have said more, but the look Emma gave her left the words dying on her tongue. Instead she said ungraciously, ‘Well, all right, I’ll agree to that.’ She turned to go. ‘Bring your stuff over and I’ll pay you.’
There was a car outside the door as she left. It appeared to be full of small children, and a friendly young woman, the one who had been with the doctor, got out. ‘I say, hello, how nice to meet you again. We’re here for a week so we must get to know each other.’ She smiled. ‘Where’s that woman who runs the place?’
‘I’ll fetch her,’ said Emma, ‘and I’d love to see you again.’
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS quite late in the evening when the phone rang. ‘It’s me, Wibeke Wolff. There wasn’t time to talk so I got that woman to give me your phone number. I do know who you are, Roele told me, so please forgive me for ringing you up. I don’t know anyone here. Roele’s only free occasionally, and I wondered if you would show me the best places to take the children. A beach where they can be safe in the water? If you would like, could we go somewhere tomorrow? I’ll get a picnic organised. This is awful cheek…’
‘I’d love a picnic,’ said Emma. ‘There are some lovely beaches but we don’t need to go far tomorrow; there’s South Sands only a few minutes in a car. Would that do for a start?’
‘It sounds ideal. You’re sure you don’t mind?’
‘No, of course not. Where shall I meet you?’
‘Here at this cottage? About ten o’clock? I thought we might come back about three o’clock. You’re sure I’m not spoiling your day?’
‘No, I’m looking forward to it. And I’ll be there in the morning.’
‘Who was that, Emma?’ Her mother looked hopeful. ‘Someone you have met taking you out for lunch?’
‘A picnic. Mrs Wibeke Wolff with three children; we’re having a picnic lunch at South Sands tomorrow.’
‘Oh, well, I suppose it’s a change for you. I shall be out in the afternoon; I’ll make a sandwich or something for my lunch.’
Emma took this remark for what it was worth. Her mother had no intention of doing any such thing. She said cheerfully, ‘I’ll leave lunch all ready for you, Mother, and cook supper after we’ve been to church. Unless you want to go to Matins?’
‘You know I need my rest in the morning. Just bring me a cup of tea and I’ll manage my own breakfast.’
‘If you want to,’ said Emma briskly. ‘There’ll be breakfast as usual in the morning, but if you would rather get up later and cook something?’
‘No, no, I’ll come down in my dressing gown. I don’t have much strength in the morning, but then of course I have always been delicate.’
Emma, her head full of the morrow’s picnic, wasn’t listening.
Sunday was another glorious morning. Emma got into a cotton dress and sandals, found a straw hat and a swimsuit, got breakfast for her gently complaining parent and made her way through the still quiet streets to the holiday cottages.
Wibeke was loading the car and waved a greeting. As Emma reached her she said, ‘I’ve got the children inside. Everyone here seems to be asleep and they’re noisy.’
Emma glanced at Mrs Brooke-Tigh’s house. There was no sign of life there and the curtains were still drawn. A good thing, since she didn’t approve of the cleaners mixing with the tenants. Emma said, ‘Hello, it’s going to be a warm day; the beach will be pretty crowded.’
‘The children will love that.’ Wibeke opened the door and they piled out. ‘Hetty, George and Rosie,’ said Wibeke as Emma shook hands with them. They were three small excited kids, bursting with impatience to get their day on the beach started. Without waste of time they crowded into the back of the car and, with Emma beside her, Wibeke drove through the town and along the coast road. It was a short drive.
‘It’s really only a short walk away,’ said Emma as they began the business of parking the car and unloading the children and picnic basket, the buckets and spades, the swimsuits…
The beach was full but not crowded. They settled against some rocks and got into their swimsuits, and Wibeke and the children raced to the water’s edge while Emma guarded their belongings. It was pleasant sitting there, for the sun was warm but not yet hot enough to be uncomfortable, and there was no one near by. This, she reflected, was the first day out she had had since they’d come to Salcombe. She didn’t count Derek or Brian, for she hadn’t been at ease with either of them, but Wibeke and the children were friendly and undemanding; she had only just met them and yet she felt that she had known Wibeke for years. Of course they would all be gone in a week, but still she would have pleasant memories…
They came trooping back and Wibeke said, ‘It’s your turn now. A pity we can’t all go together. Do you suppose we might? There’s no one very close and we could see our belongings easily…’
‘Let’s wait and see if the beach fills up.’
The water was chilly, but within seconds Emma was swimming strongly away from the beach and then idling on her back until the thought of Wibeke coping with three small children sent her back again.
Time passed, as it always did when one was happy, far too quickly. They built sandcastles, dug holes and filled them with buckets of water, and went swimming again. This time Wibeke stayed on the beach.
Wibeke was peering into the picnic basket when Dr van Dyke joined her.
‘Roele, how lovely. Have you come to lunch? You’re wearing all the wrong clothes.’
‘I’ve been to see a patient and I’ve another call to make; no one is going to take advice from a man in swimming trunks.’ He was watching the children and Emma prancing around at the water’s edge, her magnificent shape enhanced by her simple swimsuit, her bright hair tied up untidily on the top of her head.
‘She’s rather gorgeous, isn’t she?’ Wibeke peeped at her brother. ‘She should be out in the fashionable world, with a string of boyfriends and lovely clothes.’
‘Never.’
The doctor spoke so emphatically that she stared at him, and then smiled.
‘Why, Roele…’
But by then the bathing party were within a few feet of them, and while the children rushed at their uncle Emma hung back, taken by surprise, feeling suddenly shy.
‘Hello,’ said the doctor easily. ‘I see you’ve been landed with these tiresome brats—san
dcastles and looking for crabs and digging holes—you’ll be exhausted. Don’t let them bully you.’ He got up, the children clinging to him. ‘I must go—have a lovely day and don’t get too much sun.’
He hadn’t really looked at her, she reflected, just a casual smile and a wave as he went. She had been silly to feel shy.
By mid-afternoon the children were tired, and they left the now crowded beach and drove back to the cottage.
‘Come in and have a cup of tea,’ begged Wibeke, but Emma shook her head.
‘It’s been a lovely day but I really must go home. If you would like me to babysit one evening I’ll do that gladly. It’ll give you a change to go out if you want to.’
‘Would you really? That would be great. What are you doing tomorrow?’
‘Shopping, washing, ironing, household chores—but would you all like to come to tea? We’re right by the water and there’s lots for the children to see.’
‘We’d like that. Where exactly do you live?’
Emma told her, bade the sleepy children goodbye, and went home.
Her mother was there, complaining in her gentle voice that it had been far too warm at the hotel, where she had had tea with Mrs Craig. ‘I’m not sure that I have the energy to go to evensong.’
‘You’ll feel better when I’ve made another cup of tea—China, with a slice of lemon.’
‘You enjoyed your day?’ asked her mother.
‘Very much. The sea’s a bit chilly but it was lovely to swim… I’ve invited Mrs Wolff and the children to tea tomorrow. You might enjoy meeting them.’
‘Small children? Emma, dear, you know how quickly I get a headache if there’s too much noise, and children are so noisy.’