by Betty Neels
Nanny had said the same thing, reflected Florina. She would have to mend her ways or leave. Unthinkable! ‘Well, I’m not.’ She made her voice sound cheerful. ‘Sit down for a minute and tell me what you would like to have to eat on this picnic.’
Sir William arrived soon after six o’clock, with Wanda exquisite in an outfit in cyclamen and hunter’s green; not in the least suitable for a weekend in a small country village, but guaranteed to give its inhabitants something to talk about for a few days.
She got out of the car and went into the house ahead of him, calling in a petulant voice, ‘Where’s everyone? I want my bags taken up to my room; I’m not fit to be seen!’
She paused by the passage leading to the kitchen and addressed Florina’s back, busy at the Aga.
‘Cook, leave that, and get my things from the car.’
Florina took no notice; she was at the precise point when the sauce she was making would either be a triumph of culinary art or an inedible failure.
She didn’t turn round when she heard Sir William say, ‘Florina has her work, Wanda. You can’t expect her to leave it to carry your cases. I’ll bring them up in a moment.’
Florina heard his laughing greeting to Pauline, their voices fading as they went out to the car. He had always come to the kitchen to ask her how she was, but this evening he didn’t, perhaps because he had gone upstairs with Wanda’s cases. She knew soon enough that that wasn’t so, for she heard him talking to Nanny in the hall. She went about the business of dinner: mushrooms cooked in wine and cream for starters, minute steaks with duchesse potatoes and braised celery, lemon sorbet and Bavarian creams with lashings of cream. She had baked rolls, too, and curled the farm butter and arranged a cheeseboard. To please Wanda, she had made a dish of carrot straws, shreds of celery, slivers of cabbage and apple. She had made home-made chocolates, too, to go with the coffee, something she knew Pauline would like.
There was half an hour before she needed to dish up, so she slipped up to her room and tidied her hair. Then, since there was no one about, she went out to the patio. It was a lovely evening, turning to dusk, and the white swans were gliding away to settle for the night. A bat or two skimmed past, and somewhere in the distance an owl hooted. From the nearby pub there were muted sounds of cheerful talk and laughter. A peaceful rural scene; no wonder Sir William liked to spend his weekends in his lovely country home. Florina fell to wondering about his house in London; in its way it was probably as charming as Wheel House. Well, she would never see it, nor would she know more of his life than she did now, and that was precious little.
She gave a great sigh and then spun round as Sir William said from the drawing-room door. ‘Hello, Florina, you look sad. Did you leave your heart in Holland?’
She stammered a little. ‘Oh, good evening, Sir William. No no, of course not…’ She retreated to the kitchen door. ‘I was just waiting here before I dish up—I hope you don’t mind?’
He said testily. ‘Mind? Why should I mind? You have as much right to be here as I. Has Pauline been plaguing you?’
‘Heavens, no, she’s a dear child! We’ve had such fun, biking and walking and she likes to cook.’ She hesitated. ‘I suppose she couldn’t have a dog or a cat? She loves animals—the swans come when she calls, and we were at the farm the other day when the Jersey cow calved—you don’t mind?’
‘I entirely approve, Florina, and of course we’ll have a dog—and a cat. She will have to look after them while I’m in London. Of course when she’s at school, you will have to do the looking after.’
‘I’ll enjoy that—she’ll be so happy.’
He said thoughtfully, ‘I should have thought of it for myself.’
‘I think that you have a great deal to think of, Sir William?’ She forgot everything for a moment and gave him a sweet, loving look, and he stared back at her without speaking.
‘It’s time to dish up.’ She was suddenly shy, anxious to get back to the kitchen. But presently, through the open door, she heard Pauline come on to the patio and her squeals of delight when she was told about the dog and cat.
Her delight wasn’t echoed by Wanda, who had wandered into the drawing-room unsuitably dressed in flame-coloured taffeta. ‘I loathe cats, and I detest dogs with their filthy paws. There’ll be neither, Pauline, so you can forget it.’
Florina, in the dining-room, setting the soup tureen on the serving-table, stopped to listen.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to overcome your dislike, Wanda.’ Sir William sounded at his most placid. ‘I have promised Pauline that she shall have them.’
‘Well, don’t expect me to come here…’
His quiet, ‘Very well, my dear,’ made her pause.
‘Oh, darling, don’t be unkind—after all, I bury myself down here in this God-forsaken hole just to please you.’
He sounded interested. ‘Is that how it seems to you?’
Wanda pouted prettily. ‘No decent restaurants within miles, nowhere to go dancing, no shops. You’ve no idea what sacrifices I’m making for you, my angel.’
‘You would like us to live in town permanently?’
Wanda gave a little crow of delight. ‘There! I knew you would see it my way.’
‘You’re mistaken, Wanda. We’ll have to talk about it later on.’ He put an arm round his daughter’s shoulders. ‘Next weekend, we’ll have a look for a cat and a dog.’
Florina glanced at the clock, and skipped to the hall to tap on the door and sound the dinner gong. It wasn’t quite time, but she considered that intervention of some sort would be a good idea. That wasn’t the last of it, however. Long after dinner was finished and Pauline was in bed, as Florina and Nanny were clearing away their own meal, Wanda came into the kitchen.
‘I suppose it was you who put Pauline up to badgering her father for cats and dogs? Well, Cook, you can take it from me, once Sir William and I are married I’ll get rid of them, and you’ll go at the same time.’
Nanny drew in a hissing breath, ready to do battle, but Florina forestalled her. ‘I should think Sir William will wish to be consulted before you do anything so unwise, Miss Fortesque. And in any case, I’ve no intention of listening to your threats.’
Wanda glared back at her, her eyes, narrow slits of dislike. ‘Wormed your way in, haven’t you?’ she observed spitefully. ‘Just because you can cook—you’re only a servant…’
She stopped when she heard Sir William’s footsteps crossing the hall.
‘I was just telling Cook how delicious dinner was.’
She turned her back on the kitchen and hooked an arm through his. ‘How about a stroll before bed, darling?’
‘The hussy!’ Nanny’s rather dry voice was full of indignation. ‘If he only knew what was going on…’
‘Well, there is nothing we can do about it, Mrs Frobisher.’ Florina began to set the table for breakfast and found that she was shaking with rage.
‘Huh!’ Nanny put a great deal of feeling into the sound. ‘But Sir William is no fool and he has got eyes in his head—I’m not despairing.’
But Florina was; she might love him with her whole heart, but she was powerless to do anything about it. Especially now that he had somehow contrived to put a barrier between them. And what could she have done? If she had been as attractive as Wanda and as beautifully dressed and, moreover, living in Sir William’s world, she would have made no bones about competing with Wanda. But famous paediatricians didn’t fall in love with their cooks, not in real life, anyway. She laid the last plate tidily in its place and offered to make Nanny a cup of tea before she went to bed.
Pauline spent a good deal of the following morning in the kitchen. She had refused to go to Salisbury with her father and Wanda, who declared that she had to do some urgent shopping. Florina suggested that she should make cakes for tea, and went on with her own preparations for dinner. Lunch was to be cold and there was a raised pie she had made on the previous day, and a salad. She would have an hour to spare in the aftern
oon, and she planned to go and see her father.
With the exception of Wanda, they had shared breakfast round the kitchen table, and Sir William had gone off with Pauline directly afterwards, to reappear a few minutes before Wanda, who trailed downstairs, declaring that she hadn’t slept a wink and demanding to be taken to the shops without delay.
‘I’m glad she’s gone,’ declared Pauline sorrowfully, and burst into tears.
‘Hush now, love,’ said Florina, ‘things are never as bad as they seem.’ Then she offered the making of cakes, so that the child cheered up, and presently was laughing with Florina.
Lunch dealt with, Florina changed into a dress and went through the village to see her father. She had paid him a hurried visit soon after they had got back from Holland but, despite her gifts of tobacco and whisky, he had been morose. When she went up the familiar path and opened the door, she saw that today’s visit wasn’t going to be a success, either. It was with relief that she went back to Wheel House, got back into her overall and apron, and went to work on the dinner.
She knew everyone who came that evening. They glimpsed her as they passed the short passage to the kitchen, and called her a good evening, and after the meal they came to the patio door to tell her what a splendid meal it had been, and ask her how she did it. It didn’t seem quite the right thing but, since Sir William was with them and evinced no sign of annoyance, she supposed that he didn’t mind. Presently Nanny took coffee into the drawing-room, and then went upstairs to see if Pauline was asleep, while Florina got their own meal.
They didn’t linger over it. It was Sunday the next day, and there would be no help from the village and there was the picnic to prepare in the morning. They did their chores, turned out the lights and went to their beds.
Sir William had said that he would drive Wanda back after tea. Florina did her chores and then sat for a while on the patio with Nanny, drinking their coffee in the sun and watching the swans. They had an early lunch and, with Nanny comfortably resting on her bed, Florina got tea ready. Sir William had suggested that they might have it on the patio, since the Meggisons and their three children would return with them. She set out cakes and sandwiches, scones, jam and cream on the kitchen table, then covered the lot with damp cloths, and went to her room to do her hair and tidy. There would still be time to sit in the garden for an hour and leaf through the Sunday papers.
As things were to turn out, there wasn’t. The picnic party returned early, making over-bright conversation, while the children looked mutinous. Florina’s heart sank when she saw Sir William’s face, smoothed of all expression and covering, she had no doubt, a well-bottled-up rage. She had known the Meggisons for years; she greeted them now and led the children away to wash their hands, while Wanda, looking sulky, led Mrs Meggison upstairs.
Back again, with the children milling round her, Florina took another look at Sir William. He was talking to Ralph Meggison, but he turned to her as she went out on the patio.
‘Wanda had a headache,’ he told her, in a voice which gave nothing away. ‘I’m afraid we’ve cut your afternoon short.’
Florina gave her head a small shake. ‘Tea is quite ready—would you like it now?’
‘As soon as we are all here…’
‘If Miss Fortesque’s headache is bad, would the children like to have tea in the kitchen?’
‘That’s a very good idea. Could you bear the noise?’
‘I shall like it,’ she said, and meant it.
The children helped to take some of the food out to the patio, and Pauline took a tea tray up to Nanny before they gathered round the kitchen table to fall upon the food, making a great noise and laughing immoderately.
Florina laughed with them, and saw that they minded their manners and had a good tea. Finally, when they were finished, the eldest Meggison child said, ‘Gosh, this is fun! We’d have hated being out there with her.’
‘And who is her?’ asked Florina. ‘The cat’s mother?’
They fell about laughing. It was Pauline who whispered, ‘Wanda, of course. She grumbled all the while—it was too hot and there were wasps and the grass was damp and the food was all wrong…’
Florina bristled. ‘Wrong? What was wrong? I put in everything I thought would make a picnic lunch.’
‘It was super,’ they hastened to reassure her. ‘We ate everything. Only she was cross all the time.’
The youngest Meggison added, in a piping voice, ‘She’s not a country lady, not like you, Florina. You know where the mushrooms are and the blackberries and nuts. Pauline says you’re going to have a dog and a cat…’
They were all shouting out suitable names to each other when Sir William joined them.
He pulled up a chair, stretched out a hand for a cake and observed, ‘You are having fun! I’ve been thinking, Pauline. You had better come up to London next weekend. There’s an animal sanctuary I know of—we should be able to find something suitable.’ He added, as an afterthought, ‘Florina, you had better come, too. I’ll come down on Friday evening and we can drive back early on Saturday morning. I’ll bring you and the animals back here on Sunday.’
Pauline flung herself at him, shrieking with joy. Florina, sitting sedately in her chair, would have liked to do the same. She would have the chance to see his home in London, get a glimpse of his other life, too! She looked up and caught his eye. ‘Nanny will be all alone,’ she pointed out.
‘Mrs Deakin will sleep here. You’ll need an overnight bag, that’s all.’ He took another cake, munched slowly and said, ‘I must leave in half an hour.’
He got up, hugged Pauline, nodded to the other children, then smiled a sudden, tender smile at Florina and wandered back to the patio, leaving Florina with a red face, which was viewed with interest by her companions.
‘You’re very red,’ said the youngest Meggison. ‘Why?’
Pauline rushed to her rescue. ‘It’s all the cooking she does. She had to make all the food for the picnic and our tea…’
‘Why didn’t you come with us on our picnic?’ persisted the tiresome child.
Florina had recovered her calm. ‘Well, if I had, you wouldn’t have had any tea. Now, if you’ve all finished, do you want to feed the swans? I expect you will have to go home soon.’
They all scampered away, and presently the entire Meggison family put their heads round the door to say goodbye. The youngest Meggison’s parting protest that Florina should have gone to the picnic, too, left her feeling awkward, since it was uttered in piercing tones which Sir William and Wanda must have heard.
Before he left, Sir William came into the kitchen. Nanny was sitting at the table stringing beans, and Florina was at the sink peeling potatoes. He kissed Nanny on a cheek and looked across at Florina.
‘Thank you for making the weekend pleasant. I’ll be down on Friday as soon as I can manage.’
Her sedate, ‘Very well, Sir William,’ was at variance with her flushed cheeks, and he stared at her for a long moment before turning on his heel and going out to the car.
Wanda was already in it. Florina could hear her complaining voice and his mild reply as he drove away, pursued by Pauline’s shrieking goodbyes.
Friday seemed an age away, but, in fact, the days went quickly. Pauline changed her mind a dozen times as to what she would wear in London, a problem Florina didn’t have. If it stayed fine, she would be able to wear her pink outfit that she had bought for the trip to Holland, if it turned wet and chilly it would have to be the rather worthy suit she had had for several years.
When she got up on Friday morning the first thing she did was to hang out of the window and study the sky. It showed all the signs of a splendid day and she heaved a great sigh, for she would be able to wear the pink suit. But, to be on the safe side, she would take the jersey dress and a mac.
Sir William arrived soon after tea, and when Florina offered to make a fresh pot she was rewarded, as he sat down at the kitchen table with Pauline beside him, listening to her excit
ed chatter and eating the buns left over from their own tea. He had given her a casual greeting, kissed Nanny who had come bustling to meet him, and presently declared that he needed some exercise and would take Pauline off for a walk. This was a good thing for Florina’s peace of mind; just the sight of him had sent all thoughts of cooking out of her head. She applied herself to that now and, punctual to the minute, dished up an elegant dinner which Pauline shared along with him.
In the evening, after Pauline had gone to bed, he went along to his study, and only emerged just as she was about to go to bed, in order to remind her that they would be leaving at nine o’clock, and could they have breakfast an hour before that? His goodnight was casual, rather as though he had forgotten her. It was like looking at someone through a glass window; you could see them but you couldn’t get at them, as it were.
There was a good deal of traffic on the road in the morning, but most of it was leaving London, not going into it. The Bentley sped silently up the motorway with Pauline talking non-stop and Florina sitting in the back in a contented haze of happiness, for was she not to spend the next two days in Sir William’s house? Probably she wouldn’t see much of him, but it was his home… She had worried at first, in case Wanda would be there too, but Pauline had asked her father and he had observed that she was spending the weekend with friends, which meant that Florina could sit back and dream about the weekend. She came awake when they stopped for coffee, joined in the talk without hearing more than half of it, and then climbed back into the car to continue her dreams, hardly noticing when Sir William slowed as they reached the outskirts of London. But gradually she became aware that he had turned away from the main streets and was threading his way through a quieter part of the city, its streets lined with tall Regency houses facing narrow railinged gardens in their centres.
The traffic here was sparse, and mostly private cars. She wasn’t sure where they were, but it looked very pleasant. If one could live in such streets, she reflected, then life in London might be quite bearable.
Sir William had turned out of one street into another very similar, and stopped the car half-way along a row of narrow houses, their bow windows glistening in the sun, their front doors pristine with new paint. He got out, as Pauline skipped out on her side and ran up the short flight of steps to the door of the house before them. He opened Florina’s door and ushered her out, too.