by Betty Neels
‘How are the sore places?’ he wanted to know.
‘I’m perfectly recovered, thank you.’
He had come to stand close beside her. ‘You certainly look quite different—who do you intend to dazzle?’
Augusta adjusted a gas ring unnecessarily and without looking at him, said haughtily, ‘I’ve no intention of dazzling anyone.’ She would have liked to walk casually out of the kitchen and lose herself in the crowd, but he was looming over her in a way which made it difficult to pass him. She fixed her eyes on his waistcoat and waited. When he spoke his voice was silky. ‘A pity. I hoped you might want to dazzle me.’ He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Are you chained to these kettles, or are you free to examine the delights of Mrs Grimble’s drawing room?’
‘Oh, I’m not a helper,’ she explained, ‘just odd jobs and things.’
‘Good,’ he caught her by the arm. ‘I refuse to buy a cast-off hat, but there might be something on the White Elephant stall.’
‘Oh, yes, there is,’ agreed Augusta, very conscious of his hand on her arm, ‘but they’ll be gone…a fairing—a china figure,’ she explained kindly because he was a foreigner and might not know. ‘People used to buy them at fairs—and a velvet pincushion trimmed with beads. Someone will have snapped them up, though.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll have to buy something, though—knitted dishcloths, I suppose, there are always dozens left over.’ She brightened. ‘But there are the raffles too.’
They had been walking without haste through the house. Now he opened the drawing room door. ‘I can’t wait!’ he said. ‘Take me to the dishcloths first, but there’s someone you must meet on the way.’
It was the Brigadier. He was sitting in a large chair in a corner of the crowded room with his footless leg resting on a low stool; its trouser leg had been neatly pinned just above the ankle and he looked thin, but the smile he gave Augusta was positively gay. ‘My dear gal,’ he exclaimed, wringing her hand, ‘Constantijn said he would find you—I’m staying with Doctor Soames for a night or so; promised to open this affair months ago; couldn’t let them down.’ He gave her hand a squeeze and let it go. ‘Come and talk to me some time, but don’t let me keep you from a look round first.’
She was led away to the dishcloths and when they were out of earshot she said, ‘He looks marvellous, I’m so glad.’
‘I knew you would be—now tell me what to buy.’
She began to enjoy herself. Even though she was in love with him he frequently annoyed her, but today he was intent on being the perfect companion, just as he had been in Amsterdam. They wandered from one trestle table to another, buying jam and pickles, some old volumes of Punch, a flower vase with a chip in it and several packets of needles, because Augusta declared that they always came in useful. Of the fairing and the pincushion there was no trace—the White Elephant was swept all but clean, but there were still the raffles and the Hidden Treasure to discover for five pence a time. They were having a second chance at the bottle stall when she said regretfully, ‘I must go. I promised to make the tea.’
Augusta wanted to tell him that she wouldn’t be long, or ask him to wait for her, but probably he was waiting for a chance to go home. She smiled too brightly, added a bottle of sauce to the collection of things he was carrying, and made for the kitchen. It didn’t take long to make the tea; in ten minutes the last of the volunteer waitresses had borne off their trays, leaving her to fill the kettles again with an eye to second cups—there was always a brisk trade with cups of tea at village functions. She tidied up neatly and went back to the drawing room, where she was pounced upon immediately by Constantijn carrying two cups of tea. He said briefly, ‘Over here,’ and led the way to an abandoned table, flicked its corner with his handkerchief and said, ‘Jump up,’ then handed her her tea. ‘How long does this—er—function last?’
Augusta drank her tea. ‘Another half hour or so.’ Her eyes swept the room. ‘They look as though they’ve almost sold out, but you can go when you like, you know. You’ve been very generous.’
His cheerful agreement rather disconcerted her. ‘But,’ he added, ‘as this is the first and probably the last time I shall ever attend such an occasion I don’t grudge a penny of it. Have you finished your odd jobs?’
She remembered the kettles and hesitated, but before she could speak he went on, ‘Ah, yes, the kettles, I think we should deal with them.’
Augusta eyed him doubtfully. He looked friendly and kind, smiling at her like that. She wished she knew him well enough to be certain that he wasn’t just being polite. ‘Well, yes—what I mean is—you don’t need to bother, you’ve been very kind already.’
‘You’ve just said something like that,’ he observed blandly. ‘What endears me to you, Augusta Brown, is your desire to be rid of my company, and your firm resolution to carry it out.’
She blushed and rushed into unguarded speech. ‘Oh, no, I don’t want you to go at all. I thought you might be finding it all a bit dull—that is—it’s not very exciting for you.’
‘Do I look the kind of man who needs to be excited? No, don’t answer that. You will just have to believe me when I tell you that I have been excited all the afternoon.’ He smiled at her in such a manner that she was forced to gulp her heart back into its proper place. ‘By you, my dear Augusta,’ he finished.
Her heart, quite out of control, thumped against her ribs, finally she managed to say, ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’ Which remark he received with a short laugh of genuine amusement as he took her arm and walked her back to the kitchen once more, where he dealt with the kettles, and then, with the air of a man goaded beyond his normal powers of endurance, caught her firmly round her slim waist and kissed her, not once, but several times with a deliberate enjoyment.
Augusta went back to St Jude’s the next morning, explaining to her astonished parents that she had quite forgotten a lecture she had promised to attend. That it was Sunday had escaped her muddled mind, and they, realising that something had gone awry for their Roly, weren’t going to make matters worse by reminding her. She had gone down to breakfast with a pale unhappy face, looking as though she hadn’t closed her eyes during the entire night, which indeed was true, save for a brief heavy sleep as the early dawn broke. Her mother longed to ask her what was wrong, but she knew her Augusta too well for that. She was, after all, a sensible girl and twenty-three. They drove her into Sherborne to catch a late morning train and as it pulled out of the station, her mother called:
‘I’ll write, darling,’ which Augusta rightly understood to mean, ‘I’ll write and tell you when Constantijn has gone.’
She stared woodenly out of the window for the whole journey, while convincing herself that she wasn’t running away, but retreating from a situation which was rapidly becoming impossible. He had said in Alkmaar that there was no harm in their meeting. She recalled how lightly he had said it, because for him it was doubtless a light matter, but it was no such thing for her. The thought of never seeing him again was almost not to be endured, but equally, meeting him again would be far worse. She resolutely forced her thoughts away from him and wondered about Susan Belsize instead. But this, in its way, was just as bad. Watching the dreary, smoke-grimed backs of London’s houses as they blotted out the countryside, she reflected on the strange coincidence that Dr Soames should be Constantijn’s godfather—but then it had been coincidence that he should have a practice in Alkmaar. She closed her eyes against the depressing backyards and strings of washing, and fell into a brief doze which lasted until she was jerked awake at Paddington Station.
She left her case in her room at the hospital and filled the rest of the wasted day with a bus ride to Richmond Park, where she walked until she was too tired to think any more, and on her return, she countered her friends’ astonished comments on her early return by inventing some absolutely vital shopping which she needed to do on Monday morning. Having invented an excuse, it was necessary to live up to it. She went out early and bought, rather defiantly,
a Terlenka trouser suit, white with a tunic top; it made her green eyes greener than ever, and gave her carroty hair a burnish.
The next day, going off duty, she went, idly enough for she didn’t expect any post, to look for letters. There was a small package for her; it contained two carefully tissue paper wrapped boxes with a brief note from her mother: ‘Roly darling, Constantijn brought these round and asked me to see that you got them.’
She unwrapped them carefully. One contained the fairing from the White Elephant stall, the other held the little velvet pincushion.
CHAPTER SIX
TWO DAYS LATER Augusta received an invitation from Lady Belway, this time for luncheon. The note, written with an old-fashioned nib and heavily underlined, was couched in terms to touch all but the most hard-hearted, and Augusta was soft-hearted. Nurse, it seemed, was on holiday; the writer was alone, ready to die of a combination of ennui and bad temper.
Augusta, in her dressing gown after a long day’s work, penned her acceptance in a neat handwriting, while her closer friends, with the inevitable mugs of tea, bore her company. She addressed the envelope, oblivious of the buzz of talk around her and the shrill whine of some pop group belting out their latest effort from her radio. She stuck out her tongue and licked the envelope flap as Mary Wilkes leaned across the bed. ‘Finished?’ she inquired in a subdued shout. ‘I’ll post it for you as I go past the warden’s lodge—here’s your tea. What will you wear?’ The absorbing topic engaged their full attention for the best part of five minutes, then: ‘Guess who I saw today, outside the Coq d’Or in Stratton Street.’
‘Whatever were you doing in Stratton Street?’ inquired Augusta.
‘Oh, I can’t remember. It was that gorgeous girl who used to visit your old Lady Belway—in a lime green dress, ducky, very eye-catching. She had that fair-haired giant with her—the one who was always with her here in PP, and was his eye caught!’ She made an expressive grimace and Augusta heard her own voice answering quite normally, although she didn’t feel in the least normal. ‘She wears the most super clothes. I wonder where she gets them?’
Augusta didn’t want to know in the least, but it was as good a red herring as any. It really was most unfair, for she had been trying hard not to think of Constantijn and for the last few days she had managed rather well although she had cheated a little, because the first things she saw when she awoke each morning were the fairing and the pincushion side by side on her bedtable. It was foolish to leave them there, where they could remind her; she had hidden them away one evening, determined not to look at them again, and had then had to get out of bed in the middle of the night because she couldn’t sleep for thinking of them buried deep under a pile of undies.
Mary said carelessly, ‘Oh, one of those wildly expensive shops with a bowl of flowers and a scarf in the window, I shouldn’t wonder. Did you ever get to know him? He looks rather nice.’
Augusta was not to be drawn. ‘Nice enough,’ she replied airily, ‘not quite our world, though. How’s Archie these days?’
Mary’s nice face puckered. ‘You wouldn’t like him back again, I suppose?’ she asked. ‘There’s a marvellous new CO—he hasn’t asked me out yet, but I think he might, only Archie…’
Augusta nodded. She and Mary were good friends. Archie was sweet but was not, so to speak, a permanent proposition. She asked now, ‘I say, is Archie getting serious about you?’
Mary looked amazed. ‘Lord, no. He just likes to take a girl to the flicks—you know.’
Augusta nodded again. ‘Then you’ll have to find someone else for him to go out with,’ she suggested practically. ‘That’ll leave you free to dally with the CO’
Mary eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Anyone in mind?’ she asked. They looked around them until their eyes lighted upon a small creature, her mug clasped in her hands while she listened to her companions arguing hotly as to whose turn it was to have the bathroom first. They stared at her and then looked at each other. ‘She’s just right for Archie,’ said Mary, ‘and we’d be doing her a good turn. We’ll get to work on them both.’
They shook hands solemnly and Mary went on, ‘Good, that’s settled. What’s the matter, Gussie?—you’re different. Ever since you came back from holiday. You didn’t mind about Archie?’
‘Heavens, no.’ Augusta spoke with sincerity. ‘I think perhaps I want a change—you know, the same old grind—which reminds me…’
She finished her tea, switched off the radio and advised her companions that as she had an Early the next morning, she had better get some sleep. But sleep didn’t come, instead she lay very wide awake wondering about Constantijn and Susan. For it must be because of Susan that he was in England. It was pure chance that he had heard that she lived in the same village as Dr Soames; he had just happened to be there and anything he had said was in order to make himself agreeable, although this last idea didn’t really hold water, for he had at times been very disagreeable and she didn’t think he was the sort of man to put himself out. It seemed a good idea to stop thinking about him and concentrate on the luncheon party instead. This she did to be instantly brought up short by the thought that he might possibly be going too. Well, she couldn’t back out now—Sister had given her a day off and she couldn’t possibly ask her to change it again. She drifted off into a fitful sleep, still worrying about it.
She was a little pale with excitement when she rang the bell at Lady Belway’s front door. She had put on the white dress with the black patent slingbacks and the matching handbag, and as it was a glorious day she hadn’t bothered with a coat. If it chose to rain on the way back, she would just have to take a taxi. Her heart beat a little faster as she followed the butler up the stairs, not wanting to see Constantijn again but thinking how wonderful it would be if he were there. He wasn’t, but the Brig, was, sitting spruce and erect beside Lady Belway’s day bed.
He greeted her with as much pleasure as her hostess, and over their sherry wanted to know why she hadn’t gone back to talk to him at the Jumble Sale. To her annoyance she went red, but before she could say anything, he remarked, ‘I’m teasing you, and that’s unfair, isn’t it? Constantijn didn’t give you a chance, did he? Pity you had to come back to hospital so unexpectedly, though—he spent the whole morning tracking a pincushion of all things and one of those china fairings—said you wanted them. Did you get them?’ He turned a blue gimlet eye upon her and Augusta said ‘Yes, thank you,’ in a faint voice, and was saved from uttering anything else by Providence in the shape of the butler announcing lunch.
Getting the two old people to the dining room needed the help of herself and two young maids who had obviously done it all before, for they took no notice, in a respectful way, of their mistress’s commands and counter commands, but walked her stolidly between them. Augusta found herself with the Brigadier, who managed very well with her shoulder and a crutch. They were almost at the dining room door when he stopped and asked gruffly, ‘Well, what do you think of young Constantijn, eh?’
She had been taken by surprise, but she said carefully, ‘He—he seems very nice, I think. He was most helpful getting us out of that quarry.’ She cast around in her head for something else noncommittal. ‘He was most generous at the Jumble Sale,’ she added a little uncertainly.
The Brig became suddenly peppery—indeed, she formed the opinion that if he had had a foot to stamp, he would have stamped it. As it was he exclaimed explosively, ‘God bless my soul, gal, I asked you a plain question and you give me some bread and butter answer about Constantijn being nice! If you don’t want to give me your honest opinion, don’t.’
She said instantly, ‘Good, I won’t,’ and he gave a brief laugh, not in the least put out. He sat down to table in high good humour and didn’t mention Constantijn again, but led the conversation round to cricket and then, followed a little guardedly by Augusta, to Holland. But she need not have worried; her companions reminisced gently, recounting delightful tales of their own travels in their youth and inviting her to add
to them. They lunched at length, starting with cold cucumber soup and going on to Filets de Sole Véronique, followed by pheasant and a champagne icecream, Augusta had never heard of, much less eaten. It was served in tall glasses with a spiral of lemon peel on top, and she thought that she had never tasted anything so marvellous, and the champagne, combining nicely with the wine she had already had, had the pleasant effect of making life seem brighter than it had been of late.
They went back to the drawing room for coffee, and soon afterwards she got up to go despite Lady Belway’s plea that she should stay for another hour or so, but the Brigadier had made no move when she did and she guessed that they would probably have a good gossip when she had gone; besides, she hardly counted herself as one of Lady Belway’s friends. But although she won her point on going back to the hospital, she couldn’t avoid her hostess’s insistence that she should be driven back to St Jude’s. She made her farewells and followed the butler downstairs and out of the front door, to find an old-fashioned Daimler, most beautifully maintained, waiting for her. The chauffeur was almost as old as the butler and just as benevolent in his manner. She was about to step into this equipage, attended assiduously by these members of Lady Belway’s household, when a small sports car, apparently appearing from nowhere, drew up behind the Daimler. Constantijn was at the wheel, Susan Belsize was beside him, looking, if that were possible, more beautiful than ever. She waved airily at Augusta, who, her healthy pink cheeks gone a little pale, waved back. Constantijn did nothing at all, merely stared at her with a pale penetrating look which could so disconcert her. She smiled at him uncertainly because he looked so forbidding, and got into the Daimler and was borne smoothly away, stifling a great desire to turn round and have a look at him as she went.