The Boat House

by Pamela Oldfield

  Edie nodded. ‘We like him. He’s fun. He makes us laugh.’

  ‘Does he? Well, that’s nice.’

  ‘His big sister was our mother but she’s disappeared. We don’t remember her.’

  ‘Oh dear!’ The waitress appeared rather disconcerted by this gloomy news.

  Edie reached for a sandwich but her sister hissed, ‘Wait to be asked!’ and she withdrew her hand and glanced guiltily at Richard to see if he had noticed her transgression.

  To the waitress Emmie said, ‘Grandmother didn’t like our mother but Uncle Richard . . .’

  ‘Hey, girls! That’s enough!’ Richard said hastily.

  The waitress started to say something, thought better of it and turned away.

  The twins exchanged anxious looks but Richard said blithely, ‘What a great waitress – and hey! Look at the cakes she’s brought us!’

  ‘Jam tarts,’ said Edie, ‘cream puffs, date slices, butterfly cakes . . .’

  Emmie looked at her uncle, frowning slightly. ‘Are we really going to go to America to see our other grandmother?’

  ‘I guess so, if your grandmother agrees, but she might say no because it’s a long way to my home and she might worry about you.’

  ‘She does love us,’ Emmie explained earnestly. ‘She prays for us every night so that God will make us good. She might miss us if we went away. She might be lonely.’

  Edie finished a mouthful of sandwich and added, ‘She might cry if we went away.’

  Richard said, ‘Let’s not worry about that right now. Let’s eat our tea before the sandwiches get cold.’

  Two pairs of eyes regarded him with suspicion.

  Edie said, ‘Get cold?’

  ‘He’s joking!’ Emmie explained.

  Five minutes later the sandwiches had been devoured and they were making rapid inroads into the fancy cakes. Richard watched them with a heartfelt longing that it would be possible for them to visit his parents. They looked so much like Leonora. He also had instructions from his mother that if Nanny was fit enough, he should take her home as well. Years ago the Prestons had assured the nanny that she would have a home with the family until she died. Then Neil Matlowe had disrupted their plans by marrying Leonora and whisking her, the two babies and their nanny to England and within less than a year all their good intentions had been blown away by events. Georgina Matlowe had summarily dismissed the nanny for reasons best known to herself. By the time the Prestons had discovered what had happened no one knew where Ivy Busby was.

  Richard was determined to right the wrong if it were not too late. He intended to take Ivy Busby back where she belonged.

  The next day, Richard went to see his nanny, and Ida took the children to London to see Buckingham Palace and go up the Thames in a river bus. Georgina had been persuaded to have a day in bed to rest her heart and Marianne took the opportunity to find Donald Watson in his office.

  He jumped to his feet, obviously delighted to see her.

  ‘You’ve managed to slip away at last,’ he said. ‘Well done!’

  ‘It wasn’t difficult.’ She explained the situation.

  Judith beamed at her. ‘The spy in the camp!’

  ‘Oh dear! Is that what I am?’

  Donald Watson said quickly, ‘Of course not! Not a spy in that way. Let’s say you are our eyes and ears. A very necessary part of the equation. Does that sound better?’

  ‘Much better, thank you.’

  The woman was giving her a rather strange look, Marianne thought, as though she were weighing her up, but then she smiled.

  ‘Miss Lefevre,’ she said, ‘I am in the middle of a letter to a client – a will has gone missing and the entire family is in an uproar . . .’

  ‘And you have to find it?’

  ‘We have found it but I have to explain to them that we shall need a special warrant to get at it. Anyway, as soon as I finish this letter I’ll make us a pot of tea.’

  Donald said, ‘My cousin Judith is my partner as well as my secretary. I don’t know what I’ll do without her when she leaves.’

  Judith smiled. ‘I’m expecting a baby early next year and we’ll be interviewing candidates for my job. If you ever decide to give up being a governess . . .’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Can you type?’

  ‘I can but my speed could be better. I learned for the pleasure of a new skill and I started to teach myself shorthand but gave up on it when this job with Mrs Matlowe came along.’

  Laughing, Donald intervened. ‘Judith has volunteered to find me the perfect replacement. You must forgive her enthusiasm, Miss Lefevre. I’m expecting her to advertise the post in The Times, at least, and she’ll probably have posters stuck on every lamp-post!’

  ‘If I do a job, I do it properly,’ she told him loftily and returned to her letter.

  Donald settled himself to hear whatever Marianne had to tell him. ‘You may know very little about past events but you can give me background information about present events which might make my job easier.’

  ‘There really isn’t much,’ she admitted. ‘Of course, Richard Preston has brought photographs of the Preston family to show to the twins . . . and some letters from Leonora, which he is also taking today to show to Ivy Busby – but you probably know all this already. He’s hoping the nanny might recall something – anything at all – that might be a clue, but to tell you the truth, I don’t feel very hopeful. He will obviously learn more from the old lady if her mind is still sharp.’

  ‘According to Leonora’s letters home,’ Donald told her, ‘Mrs Matlowe hated the new wife for “seducing her innocent son”! That’s how she described the romance! That’s how the disastrous chain of events was set in motion.’

  ‘Did you know that Mrs Matlowe is unwell and her sister has made an appointment for her to see a doctor?’

  ‘I didn’t know. That’s rather unsettling.’

  ‘It seems to be her heart and I overheard her sister reminding her that their aunt died of a heart attack when she was only forty-one.’

  ‘Oh dear! More worry for poor Mrs Matlowe.’

  Marianne liked the way he spoke of her – avoiding the temptation to demonize her. ‘I do feel sorry for her,’ she agreed, ‘even though she can be very overbearing and bordering on paranoid. But she has the twins’ best interests at heart. They are all she has to remind her of Neil.’

  ‘And the sister, Ida – what is she like?’

  Not wishing to be disloyal, Marianne hesitated, then chose her words carefully. ‘Very different. Chalk from cheese, in fact. Very down to earth, kind hearted, loves the twins – and tries her best to help Mrs Matlowe, who is often rather ungrateful.’

  Judith looked up. ‘Right, that’s done. I’ll put the kettle on to save time. I’ll pop this in the pillar box as I go past.’

  ‘Go past?’ he echoed.

  She put on her hat. ‘We’re out of sugar.’

  He looked as though he was about to argue but she gave him a look that silenced him and made her way out.

  Embarrassed, he smiled. ‘I think my cousin is giving us time for you to decide I would make the perfect employer! You’ll have to forgive her. Once she gets a bee in her bonnet . . .’

  Marianne laughed. ‘If I didn’t already have a job that I love, I might be tempted. It all sounds very intriguing and worthwhile. Helping people with their problems. Very satisfying, I imagine.’

  ‘It is, actually – when we solve the problem. Of course, we fail sometimes . . . and sometimes, even when we succeed, the end result can mean heartache for someone. Being the bearer of bad news is never easy, whatever the circumstances. Being given proof that a man you love has deceived you, or discovering that a trusted business partner has cheated you or stolen money . . . People very often blame the messenger.’

  ‘But better to know than to remain in ignorance.’

  He shrugged. ‘Easy to say, Miss Lefevre, but it can often be a painful business. We have to take the rough with the smooth in this line of work.’r />
  ‘I can imagine.’

  Aware that he was watching her, Marianne glanced down at her hands.

  He said, ‘If the children go to America you would be out of a job.’

  ‘I might be asked to go with them.’

  ‘Go with them? Oh, I hope you don’t!’

  Marianne raised her eyebrows in mock protest. ‘Would you begrudge me a great adventure, Mr Watson?’

  ‘I might miss you!’

  She stared at him. ‘Miss me? You don’t even know me!’

  ‘You’re right,’ he said, in some confusion. ‘Forget I said that, please.’

  ‘It’s a nice thought, nevertheless – that someone might miss me.’ She was touched by the implied compliment and smiled. ‘We might know each other better by the time the investigation ends.’

  Encouraged by her words, Donald Watson brightened. ‘I’ll make it last as long as possible!’

  They both laughed, relaxing a little. It was now Marianne’s turn to be confused. Marianne, she thought, you are flirting with Mr Watson! Whatever has come over you? Without being aware of it, she sat up a little straighter and studied him. Not handsome in the way Richard Preston was handsome, she decided, but pleasant-looking in a comfortable way. She had just admitted to herself that getting to know him better might be pleasant, when Judith returned.

  Donald Watson said, ‘Where’s the sugar?’

  ‘Sugar? Oh that . . . I decided we didn’t really need any because . . . because we have some sugar lumps somewhere.’ She smiled ingenuously and made her way into what Marianne supposed was the kitchen area. When she reappeared a few moments later with a tray set with tea and biscuits, she settled it on the table and turned to Marianne. ‘Did you say you could do shorthand?’

  ‘I said I started to teach myself but . . .’

  ‘Oh yes. I remember. Why don’t you carry on with it just in case? Milk and sugar?’

  ‘Yes. Two sugars, please. I suppose I could but . . .’

  ‘You never know – you might fall out with your present employer.’

  That wouldn’t be too difficult, thought Marianne. ‘Or I could simply leave . . . but that wouldn’t be fair to the girls. No, I couldn’t just leave.’ She shook her head, surprised by the regret she felt.

  Judith handed her cousin a cup of tea. ‘There’s no hurry, Miss Lefevre,’ she said airily.’ I shall be here for some months yet.’

  Donald stared. ‘But I thought you wanted time to train your successor and . . .’ His voice trailed off as Judith shot him a warning look.

  She smiled at Marianne. ‘Honestly, Miss Lefevre, he doesn’t listen to a word I say. Men don’t, do they, because they think of us as the weaker sex.’

  Marianne laughed, Judith bit into her custard cream and Donald Watson said, ‘I know when I’m outnumbered! Maybe we should return to work!’

  Magda’s unkind reference to the size of the garden was a little exaggerated but not much. It was in fact a sizeable paved yard where the inmates could sit outside if the weather was reasonable and if they didn’t mind sharing the area with the washing from time to time. Potted plants of various sizes stood around the outer edge and a white painted trellis supported a wilting honeysuckle plant, which was obviously unsuited to the permanent shade in which it found itself.

  Ivy, however, was unaware of her surroundings, as she sat down on a long seat that boasted a made-to-fit cushion. Richard would have to make do with a canvas-seated deck chair, placed opposite her. She was wearing a green blouse with a darker green skirt, and a paisley shawl was draped elegantly around her shoulders. Nesta had taken care with her hair and she was wearing buttoned shoes that shone with recent polish. In fact, she thought she looked as well as it was possible to look at her age and she waited impatiently for Richard to arrive.

  When Nesta ushered him into the garden it was obvious that the young woman was overcome by his good looks and lazy American charm.

  He stared at Ivy for a moment then a wide smile lit up his face. ‘Nanny!’ He came forward to plant a kiss on her cheek.

  ‘So,’ she said, ‘here we are!’ She was trying to sound casual and composed although her throat was tight with emotion and tears threatened. ‘I thought the day would never come. I didn’t expect to see you again and that’s the truth. Sit down, do, but carefully. I never trust deck chairs. I knew a man once who trapped his thumb in a deck chair.’

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get here earlier but . . .’

  Blinking furiously she said, ‘So how’s your poor mother? It must have hurt her – losing Leonora.’

  ‘She was broken-hearted, Nanny.’ He sat down gingerly, looking very insecure.

  ‘You can call me Nan now,’ she conceded. Breathing deeply, she felt her composure returning. ‘So disillusioned when I last saw her and never a word since. It must have broken your mother’s heart. It did mine!’ She swallowed hard and pulled herself together. ‘And look at you – grown so tall!’

  ‘And an uncle!’ He grinned. ‘Can you imagine me yesterday with the twins at the zoo?’

  ‘Yes I can. An uncle they had never met! They must be thrilled.’

  ‘But look at you, Nan! You’re looking very chipper.’

  ‘Chipper? Chipper! What sort of word is that, for Lord’s sake?’ She laughed shakily. ‘You’re a handsome devil, Richard, like your father. How is he now?’

  ‘He’s not well. His kidneys. Just soldiering on – but he sent his love to you. He’s not much help to Mother but she’s made a terrific effort in the last six months. I told her I couldn’t leave her to come over here until she had . . . well, conquered the drink. I promised to take the twins back with me for a holiday so she’s determined to be at her best.’

  ‘Take them on a liner? Good Lord! Mrs Matlowe will never allow it. She has a perfect phobia about water. And now we have lost the Titanic! One iceberg – that’s all it took! She’ll be terrified at the idea of her grandchildren crossing the Atlantic. You’ll see!’

  ‘I’ll have to try. I promised Mother and Father.’

  Ivy reached out a scrawny hand and clutched his wrist. ‘If you do manage it, Richard, don’t bring them back! Keep them out there. They will have a better life with your family. Georgina Matlowe! What a dreadful woman she is. If she hadn’t made Leonora’s life such a misery, none of this would have happened.’

  Richard tried to intervene but she went straight on.

  ‘I mean it, Richard. If you care at all for those twins, take them back with you. Your mother should bring them up. I’m sure she would rise to the challenge.’

  He didn’t at once agree but nor did he reject the idea, she noted, and she drew back satisfied.

  Changing the subject, he said, ‘I’ve brought some of the girls’ pictures for you . . .’ He drew them from the slim case he carried and handed them to her.

  Hiding her envy, she asked about the children’s current nanny.

  ‘There isn’t a nanny. Mrs Matlowe decided they were too old and instead should have a governess. Marianne Lefevre is very nice and they are genuinely fond of her.’

  ‘Fond? Of a governess?’ Ivy looked sceptical. ‘I doubt it. In my experience such people are very overrated. Emmie and Edie should be at school by now.’

  He nodded hastily and went on. ‘You need not worry on that account. Marianne is very professional. The girls have also each written a letter to you . . .’

  She was suddenly anxious. ‘But do they remember me, Richard? Do they even understand what I was to them? They were babies when I was sent packing by that miserable old woman. Her excuse was that I was constantly interfering between her and Leonora when they quarrelled. Naturally I spoke up for your sister. I had to protect her. Poor Neil was too soft with his mother. Terrified of upsetting her.’ Her face darkened. ‘Poor dear Leonora. She turned up at The Poplars a happy, sunny bride, so much in love with Neil, so full of life and bubbling with excitement.’ She shook her head. ‘But within days Mrs Matlowe had cast a gloom over the entire
household by her behaviour. Sick with jealousy! By the end of the first week Leonora was in tears and Neil was in despair.’

  Richard’s face twisted with pain at the thought of his sister’s unhappiness. ‘She adored Neil! Poor Leonora. What a mother-in-law!’

  ‘And poor Neil, torn between them,’ Ivy said quietly. ‘He quarrelled with his mother, you know, although he loved her. He was anguished. I’ll give him his due. Must have been hard for him but he had to defend his wife from her attacks. Not physical, you see, but verbal abuse. Ruining the marriage. That’s what she was trying to do. She wanted Leonora out of her son’s life. That’s what she hoped for, I’m sure of it.’

  While he fumbled in his case for the letters from Emmeline and Edith, Ivy was studying the pictures they had drawn for her. Frowning, she asked, ‘What are all these spiky things just outside the boat house?’

  He laughed. ‘I think they’re the roses – the prickles are a little oversized!’

  ‘Roses?’

  ‘Yes. There’s a small rose bed just in front of the boat house.’

  Ivy was shaking her head. ‘There were no roses,’ she said firmly. ‘Mrs Matlowe said she thought they were overrated. Roses, I mean. Too prone to disease, she insisted, when Leonora wanted to plant some. Your sister thought it would be fun for the children to plant them in memory of their visit to England but Mrs Matlowe refused the idea.’

  He frowned. ‘So when were the roses planted?’

  ‘It must have been after I left. That was a rockery. I remember distinctly because there was one of those horrid little statues – a mermaid combing her hair. Such appalling taste, I thought, for a woman in her position.’

  Richard said, ‘There’s no rockery now. Just a neat bed with four rose bushes in a straight line.’

  Ivy frowned. ‘Maybe she dismantled the rockery. Obviously somebody did. She might have had Mr Blunt move it. I wasn’t in perfect health during that period – too much friction for me. I had a great many headaches and didn’t spend much time in the garden.’ She tried to cast her mind back. ‘Maybe after she had driven Leonora away she felt guilty and went ahead with her wish for the roses. Four rose bushes in a straight line.’