by Betty Neels
‘There’s the baker,’ she said, and bustled her old friend out into the hall. ‘Now you’ve got my address and I’ve got yours, we’ll write regularly and as soon as we can we’ll have a few hours together.’ She put her arms round Moggy’s spare frame and hugged her. ‘I’m going to miss you dreadfully but you’re going to be happy and so am I.’ She planted a kiss on the housekeeper’s cheek. ‘Now off you go. I’ll be leaving in an hour or two...’
Miss Mogford spoke gruffly. ‘If your poor pa could see you now, he’d turn in his grave. This isn’t what he intended.’
‘Well, never mind that, Moggy, we’re both getting a chance, aren’t we? It’s rather exciting...’
She walked Miss Mogford out to the van and found that the driver had stowed the luggage in the back, and was waiting to settle his passenger into the front seat. The last Cressida saw of Moggy was her elderly face rigid with suppressed feelings staring out from under that hat.
In the kitchen, warming the milk for the junket, Cressida shed a few tears. She hadn’t meant to, they had oozed out from under her lids and she had wiped them away at once. She was going to miss Moggy, she was going to miss her home too and those of her friends whom she saw from time to time, but, she told herself firmly, this was something she had wished for and now it had happened and she must make the most of it. She made the junket, then beat the eggs for the omelette and cut herself a sandwich, for there wouldn’t be time for anything more.
Her stepmother was making things as difficult as possible—she wanted fruit and more coffee and a novel she had put down somewhere and simply had to have. Cressida attending to these wants, gobbled her sandwich as she tidied the kitchen just in time to get her elderly tweed coat as a car drew up before the house. Her stepmother’s tray hadn’t been cleared and nothing had been done about dinner that evening; Cressida, feeling guilty, didn’t mind. She went quietly from the old house with her two shabby suitcases and was met on the doorstep by an elderly man with a weatherbeaten face who wished her good day in a friendly voice and stowed her luggage in the boot of the elderly Daimler.
She had gone to the drawing-room on her way out, and, despite Mrs Preece’s wish, had been determined to bid her goodbye.
‘I told you not to come, Cressida, and as far as I’m concerned you need not bother to return. I wash my hands of you.’
So Cressida got into the car beside the driver and didn’t look back, telling herself firmly that she had gone through one of life’s doors and shut it behind her.
The driver was friendly and disposed to talk. He was the gardener at Lady Merrill’s place, he explained, and besides that he drove the car when it was wanted and did odd jobs around the place. ‘Do you drive, miss?’ he wanted to know and when Cressida said that yes, she did, although she had seldom had the chance, he gave the opinion that it would be a good thing if she could drive the car sometimes, ‘For Lady Merrill doesn’t go out often, but when she does I have to leave my garden,’ he explained.
‘Does her permanent companion drive?’ asked Cressida.
He didn’t answer at once. ‘Er—well, no. You’ll be a real blessing.’
‘Well, I do hope so. I haven’t been a companion before. Will you tell me your name, please?’
‘Bert, Miss. There’s Mr Baxter, the butler, ’e’s old, and Mrs Wiffin the cook and Elsie the parlourmaid, they’ve all been there, same as me, for nigh on thirty years and no notion of leaving, neither.’
‘Lady Merrill is elderly, isn’t she? I don’t mean to gossip about her, but I don’t really know very much about the job.’
‘Well, now, Lady Merrill is what you might call elderly, all of eighty-three, but very spry and nothing wrong in the head as you might say. She’ll be glad to have someone young around the place.’
‘I hope I won’t be too young; is her companion elderly?’
‘Elderly, oh, yes, miss. Like dogs, do you?’
‘Very much.’
‘Two Pekinese we’ve got. Muff and Belle, nice little beasts.’
Cressida was soothed by his amiable talk. By the time they reached Lady Merrill’s house she was in good spirits, sustained by the fatherly attitude of Baxter when he opened the door to her.
‘Lady Merrill rests in the afternoon,’ he told her as he showed her into the hall, ‘but Elsie will take you to your room so that you can unpack if you wish. Perhaps a tray of tea? She will let you know when Lady Merrill is awake.’
Elsie was nice too; elderly and thin and wearing an old-fashioned black dress and a white apron. ‘You come with me, miss, and I’ll bring you a nice pot of tea presently,’ she observed, guiding Cressida up the oak staircase at the back of the hall.
The room into which she was shown was charming, not over large but furnished in great comfort. Her case was already there and Elsie said comfortably, ‘You just unpack, miss, and I’ll be up with your tea in a brace of shakes.’
Left to herself, Cressida peered into cupboards and drawers, put her head round a door to find a small but luxuriously equipped bathroom, and then started to unpack. She hadn’t finished when Elsie came back with the tea, nicely arranged on a tray; paper-thin china and a plate of fairy cakes arranged round a small silver teapot. Cressida thanked her and settled down to enjoy the dainty meal; it was a long time since anyone had served her tea on a tray...
An hour later she was led to a room at the front of the house and ushered in by Elsie. ‘It’s the young lady, my lady,’ said Elsie cheerfully. Plainly the staff weren’t afraid of their mistress; they weren’t familiar either, Cressida had the impression that they were devoted to her.
Lady Merrill was on a day bed, propped up by pillows and cushions and covered with a gossamer fine rug. She looked older than Cressida had expected but there was nothing elderly about her bright eyes and brisk voice.
‘Come over here, my dear, where I can see you,’ and, when Cressida did so, she examined her from head to foot. ‘I hope you will be happy while you are here. Mrs Sefton was so delighted to arrange for you to come here. I believe she knows your stepmother?’
Cressida said cautiously, ‘They met at dinner parties and other people’s houses. I’ve met her several times at fêtes and church bazaars.’
‘A good-hearted woman! I shall call you Cressida.’
‘I should like that, Lady Merrill. Could you tell me what you would like me to do? I—I haven’t been a companion before and I’m not sure...’
‘Well, now, let me see. I shan’t need you until ten o’clock each morning; I breakfast in bed and Elsie helps me dress. I like to read my letters and I expect you to answer them for me, run errands, read to me—my sight isn’t very good—and talk. I like to talk. Do you watch television?’
‘Well, no, very seldom.’ Cressida reflected that there had never been much opportunity for her to do so and the only TV had been in the drawing-room where she had seldom had the time to sit.
‘I watch the news,’ said Lady Merrill, ‘and anything which I consider worthwhile. You shall read the programmes to me each morning so that I can decide if there is anything in which I am interested. You will have your meals with me. Do you play cards or chess?—or cribbage? I enjoy patience...’
‘Well, yes, I play chess, not very well and cribbage—I used to play with my father. I’m no good at Bridge.’
‘Never mind that—we need four to make a game and I’ve better things to do than sit around a table bickering over the wrong cards I played.’ The old lady nodded. ‘You’ll do, Cressida.’
Elsie came in with the tea-tray and Lady Merrill said, ‘Pour me a cup, my dear, and sit down and have your tea with me.’ Nothing loath, Cressida did as she was bid, to be questioned at length as to her life at home and her plans for the future. The questions were put in such a kindly manner that she found herself saying rather more than she intended, although thinking about it a
fterwards she comforted herself with the thought that since she was unlikely to see Lady Merrill once she had left the house it didn’t really matter, and in any case she gave vague and evasive answers which, while not misleading, weren’t absolutely true.
She was told to go away and unpack her things and return when the gong sounded for dinner, a meal taken in the old lady’s company in a rather dark room, massively furnished. The food was delicious and Lady Merrill, despite her age, an excellent talker. Later, getting ready for bed, Cressida standing at her window, warmly wrapped in her dressing-gown against the chill of the night, watched the moon’s fitful beams between the clouds and breathed a great gusty sigh of thankfulness. She surely missed her home and Moggy, but she felt in her bones at the same time that she would be happy in this nice old house. For her first job away from home she hadn’t done so badly, she reflected; it was a good omen for the future. She got into bed and her last waking thought was that it was a pity she couldn’t let Dr van der Linus know that she had fallen on her feet. He had been very kind...she wondered sleepily where he was.
* * *
DR VAN DER LINUS was sitting in the drawing-room of a patrician house in Leiden, listening to Nicola van Germert describing a visit she had paid to friends in Amsterdam. She had an amusing way of talking although there was a hint of malice, but he supposed that she could be forgiven that for it spiced her account just enough to make those listening to her smile and from time to time laugh outright. He sat watching her now: a pretty young woman in her late twenties, self-assured, well dressed and confident of her place in society. She would make a good wife, for she had all the attributes of a good hostess and would have no difficulty in managing his home in Friesland. They had known each other for some time now and although nothing had been said their friends were beginning to take it for granted that they would marry. Indeed, he had taken it for granted himself; he was thirty-five, time to settle down, although up until now he had been too immersed in his work to think of marriage. He supposed that if he had met a girl and fallen in love...but he hadn’t. Perhaps he was getting too old. He roused himself from his thoughts and joined in the laughter at one of Nicola’s witty remarks, and she smiled at him with a faintly possessive air.
The party broke up shortly after that and he drove himself back to the elegant little house he lived in when he was working in Leiden. He had forgotten Nicola, his mind already busy with the next day’s patients. He let himself in thankfully and went straight to his study, telling his housekeeper to go to bed as he was greeted boisterously by Caesar and a St Bernard dog of immense size. They followed him into the study and settled down by his desk as he picked up his pen. He hadn’t written half a dozen words when he put it down again and looked at his watch. It was almost eleven o’clock; his grandmother seldom slept before midnight and there was a telephone by her bed. He dialled her number.
Her voice with its elderly quaver came strongly over the wires. ‘Aldrick—I expected you to telephone; you want to know about Cressida?’
‘Merely to ask if she has arrived and is settled safely. You don’t find her too much of a burden, my dear?’
‘On the contrary, she is a charming girl and so anxious to please. She has volunteered no information as to her departure from her home and I think it is unlikely that she will do so—I imagine she has remained silent for so long about her home life that she is unlikely to speak of it to anyone.’
‘I shall be going to Friesland in a couple of days, I’ll call in on Charity and Tyco and see if they can suggest something. I am most grateful for your help, Grandmother, but the sooner she is settled in a job the better.’
‘You think that she will be happy out of England?’ Lady Merrill sounded doubtful. ‘She seems rather a shy girl.’
‘I believe that she will feel safe, at least until she has found her feet. Once she realises that she is free of her stepmother she will probably train for some specific skill, and make a life for herself in England if she wishes.’
‘Yes, dear. I’m sure you’re right. You’ve done a good deal for the girl and she is sensible enough to make her own way in the world. She hasn’t a boyfriend? Marriage would solve all her problems for her, wouldn’t it?’
The doctor frowned. ‘I hope that she doesn’t meet some unsuitable fellow and imagine herself in love...’
His grandmother, sitting up in bed, turned a chuckle into a cough. ‘She is hardly attractive enough for that, Aldrik, though I dare say a visit to the hairdresser and some new clothes will help to improve her appearance.’
‘My dear—of course she must be paid. Will you decide on a suitable wage and let me know?’
‘Yes, of course. Weekly, I think. I suspect that she has very little money.’
‘Yes, well, I’ll leave that to you.’
‘Yes, dear.’ She bade him goodnight and he put the receiver down. ‘That’s settled,’ he told the dogs. ‘Now I can forget about her.’ Charity was bound to know of someone who would employ the girl...
He had a teaching round in the morning, private patients to see in the early afternoon and an outpatients clinic afterwards. He was pleasantly tired when he got home again; an hour at his desk and then he would drive himself and the dogs out of Leiden and walk for an hour. He opened his front door, called to his housekeeper that he was home and waited while she came to meet him. Mies was elderly, rather bony, and despite this she contrived to look cosy. She said now, ‘You’ve had a long day—you’ll be tired. There’s Juffrouw van Germert waiting for you in the drawing-room—I’ll bring a pot of coffee.’
He gave her a smiling reply, fending off the two dogs. He had been looking forward to a quiet evening but good manners forbade him from saying so. He went into his drawing-room with the dogs and Nicola called across the room from the chair where she was sitting. ‘I thought you might like company after your busy day. All those people and so uninteresting and dull I dare say.’
She didn’t get up but held up a hand. ‘How about taking me to the Hague for a meal? I’ve had such a boring day...’
He sat down in his winged chair opposite to her. ‘Tell me about it,’ he invited.
‘Well, that’s just it, there’s nothing to tell—I did some shopping and had coffee with friends and this afternoon I went to the hairdressers.’
‘Perhaps if you had some kind of a job you would find the days pass more quickly?’
She opened her eyes wide. ‘Work? Aldrik, I couldn’t possibly. To sit in an office all day would be so boring and I’m far too sensitive to be any good at social work of any kind. Besides I don’t need—’ She was interrupted by the telephone ringing, and the doctor picked up the receiver.
It was Lady Merrill, telling him that she had had a splendid day, that Cressida had been a delightful companion and that they were making plans to drive around the countryside each day while the weather was fine. ‘Such an industrious girl, too,’ said his grandmother. ‘Baxter is enchanted by her and Elsie is so relieved to have someone young to run up and down stairs when I forget something...’
The doctor laughed. ‘She sounds a treasure. You think I’ve done the right thing! I’ll see Charity and Tyco very shortly and you can sound her out about coming over here?’ He put the phone down presently and turned to find Nicola looking at him intently. She smiled at once, though, and said at her most charming, ‘Who is this mysterious girl and why must you talk to the van der Bronses? They live near your place in Friesland, don’t they? Is she an au pair?’
Dr van der Linus sat down in his chair again. Nicola looked interested and for some reason he wanted to talk about Cressida. He told her how he had met her and the chain of events which had led him to engineer her escape from what had become an untenable life. ‘She is a charming girl, no looks to speak of but beautiful eyes and a gentle voice. My grandmother is delighted with her but of course she can’t stay there for long; she supposes
that she is filling a gap while my grandmother’s companion is on holiday. My idea was to find her a job away from that stepmother of hers where she can feel safe, save some money and decide what she wants to do. The van der Bronses know any number of people; I’m sure they could help.’
Nicola had listened without interrupting at all, her face half turned away so that he didn’t see the thoughtful suspicion on it. She had been sure of him and a delightful carefree future; it only needed a small push on her part at the right moment—but now there was a tiny cloud on her horizon: this girl, this plain girl with the eyes was obviously taking more than a fair share of his thoughts and if she went to Friesland he would probably see her frequently. She thought fast.
‘Aldrik,’ she turned an eager sympathetic face to him, ‘never mind the van der Bronses, I know the very thing for this nice girl. Tante Clotilde, remember her? Jonkvrouw van Germert—she lives in Noordwijk-aan-Zee. Near enough for you to keep on eye on her; besides there are any number of English living there and she’ll quickly make friends. Tante Clotilde was only saying last week that she wanted a companion, and having an English girl would make it so much more interesting for her.’
She saw the doubt on his face. ‘Can you spare the time to go with me and see her soon? There’s no need to say anything about this girl until you’re satisfied that she might like the job. What is her name?’
‘Cressida, Cressida Preece.’
‘A pretty name—Shakespeare, isn’t it? I wonder why?’
‘I’ve no idea. It might be a good idea. I’m going up to Friesland in a day or two but when I come back—in a week’s time—we might visit your aunt. I should feel happier if I knew Cressida was settled somewhere where I can see her from time to time. I feel responsible for her although I am not sure why.’
Nicola allowed herself a sweet smile as she began making plans. She was a clever young woman; she didn’t see Aldrik again before he went to his home, but once he had gone she got into her sports car and roared the short distance to Noordwijk-aan-Zee and spent an hour with her aunt...