by Betty Neels
She half expected him to say that it had been a pleasure or something similar, but he said nothing at all, only lifted an eyebrow at the youth, who came with the bill.
‘Food OK?’ he wanted to know.
‘It was delicious,’ said Louisa, ‘and very well cooked. Did you cook it?’
‘No, me ma does the cooking.’ He accepted the doctor’s tip with a gratified smirk. ‘Come again any time.’
Which wasn’t very likely, thought Louisa, at least not with the doctor.
It took them only a few minutes to go back to the consulting rooms. It wasn’t until they were going up the stairs that Dr Gifford remarked casually, ‘Witherspoon wasn’t too upset by your absence on Saturday evening?’
She turned to look at him. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since.’
And at his small faintly mocking smile, she added coldly, ‘Was Helena very put out?’
He disconcerted her by saying seriously, ‘Oh, yes, very. How fortunate that your Percy was there to take my place.’
‘He is not my Percy,’ said Louisa.
Dr Gifford went away during the afternoon, and Louisa, watching him go, wondered when he would come again. He had made no mention of it and Sir James had gone off to the hospital at the end of the afternoon, observing briskly that they appeared to have a busy week ahead of them.
She went to see Felicity after she had had an evening meal, and found her alone. Her stepmother, bored with her own company, was pleased to see her.
‘I’m exhausted,’ she explained. ‘We didn’t get back from the Woodleys’ until almost three o’clock and yesterday I went out to lunch, and Percy came round in the evening. I’m dining at the Thornfolds’ tomorrow and I do want to look my best. Are you going?’
‘Me? No. I hardly know Helena or her parents.’
‘But you do know Thomas Gifford,’ said Felicity slyly.
‘No, I don’t. We see each other at Sir James’s and I’ve done some work for him.’
‘But on Saturday night you were hours away from the ball...’
‘It was hardly a social occasion.’
Felicity frowned. ‘Such a tiresome thing to happen—the silly girl should have stayed at home.’
Louisa didn’t answer. Mary Davidson might be young, and she had been frightened, but she hadn’t been silly. Louisa said instead, ‘What will you wear?’
A safe topic, discussed endlessly.
‘Will you drive yourself there?’
‘Percy is taking me. He had a last-minute invitation from Helena. She’s quite taken with him.’ Felicity giggled. ‘I wonder what Thomas Gifford thinks of that. Of course, it’s his fault; he shouldn’t go off like that and leave her. They were actually dancing together.’
‘He’s a doctor,’ said Louisa. ‘She will have to get used to him going off at a moment’s notice when an emergency crops up.’
Felicity laughed. ‘He’s got a partner. When they marry there’s no reason why he shouldn’t take another partner and have more leisure. Helena likes a social life.’
A badly matched pair, reflected Louisa; how on earth did they hope to be happily married? Of course, if they were in love...but they weren’t. She had no reason to think that, but she felt it to be true. If only Percy...
‘You look as though you’re plotting something,’ said Felicity.
‘No, no. I just remembered all the extra work Sir James wants me to do this week. There’s to be a seminar...’
‘Oh, darling, don’t bore me with details.’
‘Well, I won’t, and anyway I must go back to the flat. I’ll go and see Biddy as I leave.’
She bent to kiss her stepmother’s cheek. ‘Have you paid her?’
‘Oh, dear. I can’t remember. Be a darling and see to it for me, will you?’
‘I saw to it last time; you still owe me. I’ll pay her now if you give me the money.’
Felicity reached for her handbag—crocodile leather; it must have cost at least six months of Biddy’s wages. ‘You know, Louisa, sometimes I think you’re getting a bit hard. You won’t get a husband unless you change—it’s a good thing you’ve got this job and money coming to you. At least you’ll be independent.’
Louisa said cheerfully, ‘Well, you won’t need to worry about me, will you?’
Biddy was in the kitchen, labelling the pots of jam she had been making.
They had a cup of tea while Louisa listened to Biddy’s gossip and admired the new hat she had bought herself.
‘When I go to the pub I like a good hat,’ said Biddy. ‘There’s a couple of pots of jam for you, Miss Louisa. I hope you’re eating proper.’
Louisa assured her that she was, gave the nice old thing a hug and went back to her flat. There was still an hour or so before she could go to bed; she sat by the window and applied her wits to the problem of Dr Gifford. It was obvious to her now that he mustn’t marry Helena. Percy was the answer, of course, but that meant that he and Helena must meet as often as possible.
How to contrive that?
Of course, if Thomas were to go away for a time... But that wasn’t likely. Meeting socially was the answer, as often as possible, and perhaps there was the possibility of Thomas being called away to a private patient. After all, Sir James had been away for several days, so why shouldn’t Thomas go? She must stop calling him Thomas...
She went to bed presently, her mind made up to do something about it, although she didn’t go too deeply into her reasons for doing so.
* * *
She wasn’t deterred by his absence for the rest of the week, but she was disappointed. Seeing that she had his future welfare at heart, she wanted to keep tabs on him. It was Sir James, affable after an easy morning, who told her that he was going to the theatre that evening to see the local dramatic society’s play.
‘My wife enjoys that sort of thing,’ Sir James told her. ‘There will be quite a party of us—the Woodleys and the Thornfolds and, of course Dr Gifford and Helena Thornfold. I’m surprised your stepmother didn’t mention it; she will be there—and young Witherspoon, of course.’
‘You’ll enjoy it, sir,’ said Louisa cheerfully. ‘Do you know anyone acting in it?’
‘As a matter of fact, our youngest daughter—just a small part.’
As she was leaving, he asked, ‘Surely it is time for you to have a holiday, Miss Howarth? Have you any plans?’
‘Vague ones, sir. I’ve an aunt and uncle living in Scotland; they’ve asked me to visit them.’
‘Well, decide when you want to go and let me know. Will two weeks be enough?’
‘Yes, thank you. I’ll give them a ring and make a date.’
It would be delightful to go to Scotland, but anything could happen in the two weeks she’d be away. Helena might marry Dr Gifford—something which Louisa found most unsatisfactory. She would have to think of something, some way in which Percy could see more of Helena.
She worried away at it like a dog with a bone, and finally went to bed that night with no idea as to how that might be done.
It was three o’clock in the morning when she woke and sat up in bed. A picnic! Felicity and Percy, of course, any of the Woodleys who felt like coming, the Davidsons if they were up to it, and Helena and Thomas.
‘Ideal,’ said Louisa, and went back to sleep.
In the morning she phoned her aunt in Scotland and arranged to visit them in two weeks’ time, settled dates with Sir James, and that evening went to see Felicity to tell her the plans for a picnic.
‘Where?’
‘There’s that nice wooded bit around Woodminton, and there’s the river. The cars can be left in the lane, and it’s only a few yards to the meadows. Just right for a picnic.’
‘Don’t expect me to organise anything. Will you see to the f
ood? And for heaven’s sake have enough to drink. Who are you asking?’ And after a thoughtful pause, ‘Why are you doing it, Louisa?’
Louisa turned a guileless face to her. ‘Well, it’s such lovely weather. Once it breaks we’ll all regret not having enjoyed it more. People like picnics as long as they don’t have to arrange them.’
‘Well, it’s quite a good idea. Who will you ask?’
Louisa told her.
‘When is it to be?’
‘Well, not this weekend but the next one. I’ll phone everyone this evening or tomorrow.’
* * *
Everyone accepted. Louisa left Helena until last and made no mention of the doctor.
‘I shall bring Thomas with me, of course,’ said Helena. ‘I suppose you don’t mind if he comes?’
‘Of course not.’ Louisa was careful to be casual. ‘I wasn’t sure if he would be free.’
‘I’ll make sure that he is. He’ll have to fetch me and bring me home.’
Before Helena put the phone down she asked if Percy would be there. Louisa was pleased about that. At least she would be able to see if the rapport between Helena and Percy had deepened before she went to Scotland. She sat down and made a list of everything necessary to make the picnic a success.
* * *
The doctor came to the consulting rooms twice during the following week but, beyond exchanging polite good mornings and good afternoons, they had nothing to say to each other.
I don’t know why I bother, thought Louisa. He doesn’t like me and he won’t thank me for saving him from that woman. He might not want to be saved, of course. It was a pity she didn’t know him well enough to ask him...
Saturday dawned sunny and warm. Just right, thought Louisa, packing hampers and loading bottles into cool-boxes. She had spent a busy week but it would be worthwhile. She loaded her car, piled in rugs and cushions and a couple of folding chairs she had borrowed from Felicity, and set off.
The picnic site wasn’t far, and was reached through narrow country lanes, but she had chosen the spot well. There was plenty of room for the cars to park on the wide grass verge, and there was a gate into the field. Some of the trees bordering it had been cut down from time to time, so the stumps would make ideal seats, softened by the cushions.
She unpacked the car and arranged everything to her liking, before wandering down to the stream. It was narrow and not deep and there were stepping stones to the other side, and beyond that, some way off, the high stone wall bounding one of the estates around Salisbury.
It was very quiet; somewhere in the distance she could hear a tractor, and sheep and lambs bleating, but presently she heard a car’s engine so she went back to the gate to welcome the first of her guests. The Woodleys. Everyone else came then—the Davidsons, Felicity and Percy and, last of all, Helena and Dr Gifford. Helena was too elaborately dressed and she looked cross. The doctor, dressed in elderly trousers and an open-necked shirt and still looking elegant, greeted her with a friendly nod. ‘A lovely spot, isn’t it? Do you come here often?’
‘Occasionally; I like the stream.’
‘I hope there aren’t any ants,’ said Helena. She gave a little trill of laughter. ‘If I were to get bitten... I have such a delicate skin.’
She looked at Louisa’s unmade-up face with its freckles across her pretty nose. ‘I’m not like you—a great healthy woman.’
Louisa said gently, ‘It must be a trial to you if you are not healthy. My granny used to say, “Remember, Louisa, health not wealth”. Come over here and sit on one of these tree stumps—here’s an extra cushion—and you can lean against this tree; it’s nicely shaded. I’m going to pour the drinks—what would you like? There’s white wine, tonic water, orange juice and beer.’
As she talked, Louisa installed Helena on her cushions with all the solicitude of a nurse looking after an invalid, taking no notice of Dr Gifford at all. He stayed with Helena for a few minutes and then wandered off to say hello to everyone, and then helped carry round the drinks while Louisa unpacked the food.
It had been worth the effort, she thought an hour later. The tiny sausage rolls, the vol-au-vents with smoked salmon, the onion tarts and the miniature spring rolls had all been eaten. So had the French bread, the butter and the Brie, and there wasn’t a morsel of ice cream left.
The good food and drinks had loosened everyone’s tongues; there was a gratifying babble of voices and a good deal of laughter and, best of all, Percy was sitting beside Helena, their heads together, deep in talk. And Thomas? He was lying on the grass beside Mary Davidson’s chair, and Ricky was with Felicity.
With the help of the Woodleys she packed up the remains of the picnic and, when urged to do so, went across the field to the stream. It looked inviting on the other side; worth a look, said the youngest of the Woodleys, so that Louisa promptly sat down, took off her sandals and followed them over the stepping stones. She bunched her long skirt up around her knees, and paused halfway across to dabble her feet in the water.
Dr Gifford, watching her as he listened to Mary’s mild chatter, thought that he had never seen anyone as beautiful. The wholly unexpected thought that he wanted her for his wife took him by surprise, and was instantly suppressed as ridiculous. She was a tiresome girl, always speaking her mind instead of holding her tongue, sitting at her desk looking through him with her enormous grey eyes.
Mary’s voice recalled him to reality. ‘She’s such a dear, and she never pretends, if you know what I mean. I’m glad she’s got that flat; it must have been pretty dull for her, living with Mrs Howarth. I mean, her stepmother is such a glamorous person, isn’t she? With hosts of friends. Oh, I know Louisa went out a lot, but they weren’t her friends, if you see what I mean.’
‘I didn’t know that you knew her.’
‘Well, no, I didn’t, but people talk, you know? Everyone likes her, and she’s so clever. All this food—she made everything herself...’
‘Indeed?’ said Thomas, and brushed aside an unbidden picture of Louisa in his kitchen. He couldn’t substitute it with one of Helena, for she had never been into his kitchen. Kitchens were for housekeepers and cooks.
‘Of course, when we are married,’ Helena had told him, ‘I’ll go every day and tell Rosie what has to be done and decide on meals.’ She had leaned up and kissed his cheek. ‘I’m a drawing room girl, darling.’
Lying there beside Mary, watching Louisa strolling on the other side of the stream with the three Woodleys, Thomas wondered when he had first become aware that he was disillusioned. He clamped down on that thought, too.
The picnic broke up before tea time. Tea from a flask never tasted the same as tea from a pot, and Louisa had decided that she didn’t want to spoil the success of the picnic. Everyone went, declaring that they had had a lovely time, and Helena and Dr Gifford were the last to go.
Helena kept him waiting while she rubbed cream into her arms, which she declared had been burned by the sun. She said with a spiteful titter, ‘I know it seems fussy to you, Louisa, but I go out such a lot, and I like to take care of my appearance.’
‘I’m sure you do,’ said Louisa, the polite hostess. ‘Are you going out this evening?’
Helena cast a vexed look at the doctor. ‘Thomas was supposed to be taking me out to dine and dance, but, of course, he has to go to that wretched hospital. Luckily, Percy is free and offered to take me. Such a thoughtful man. I’m surprised that you don’t appreciate him.’
Louisa said in a cool voice, ‘Even if you are surprised, I don’t think it is any business of yours, Helena. Are you ready? I should think Dr Gifford is getting impatient.’
* * *
He wasn’t only impatient, he was angry, too. In the car he said in a deceptively mild voice, ‘You were rude to Louisa, and spiteful.’
Helena rounded on him. ‘I’ll say what I l
ike, Thomas—I had no idea she was such a friend of yours.’
‘Louisa is a trusted and hard-working member of Sir James’s staff. She is not a friend, but you have no right to belittle her.’
‘You were listening...’
‘Your voice when you are annoyed is shrill, Helena.’
They drove the rest of the way in silence, and at her parents’ house she got out of the car without a backward glance, brushing past him without a word, too. Only at the door she turned to shout at him.
‘I hope you have a very busy evening and that everything goes wrong for you and your beastly patients.’
* * *
A pity Louisa couldn’t have been there to hear that. Back in her flat, clearing away the debris from the picnic, she thought that it had been a success, and certainly Percy and Helena were fulfilling her hopes. It was a pity that Thomas appeared quite unmoved by their friendship; he must feel very sure of Helena, despite her tantrums.
Well, she had done her best. In a week’s time she would be in Scotland with no way of finding out how things were progressing. She had lost, she thought. Surely a man seeing his fiancée becoming more and more friendly with another man would have done something about it, and either they would have parted or made it up. He must have seen for himself...
She made a pot of tea, had a shower, put on an old cotton dress and tied herself into a pinny. She would cook something for her supper and then look through her wardrobe and decide what she would take to Scotland.
She was scrubbing new potatoes when the doorbell rang and, when she opened it, there was Dr Gifford, taking up every inch of the tiny hall, and tucked carefully in his arm was a very small and dirty kitten.
CHAPTER SIX
LOUISA LOOKED AT the small, pathetic furry face and then at Dr Gifford. ‘The kitchen. I’ll get a towel...’
He laid the scrap on it. ‘I’ll take a look before we clean him up. He was on the side of the road. Do you have something soft? And warm water. And warm milk... He’s skin and bone.’