“He’d rather work at the Institute,” Averil said now, rather sulkily. “He only stays at Fountains because of me.”
Ann let that pass and turned her thoughts to her own predicament. Oh, what bad luck that the subject of the Ball had come up in the children’s hearing. Nothing would stop Emma from declaring the truth, particularly when it was inconvenient to her hearers.
And now ... Ann bit her lip. Whatever happened, she would not let Iain Sherrarde buy her a dress. If he dared to mention it...
The children at least enjoyed the outing. They prowled round one of the stores, found their present for Miss Pollard — a packet of very highly colored and highly scented soap which was carefully secreted in Iain Sherrarde’s overcoat pocket and at which the children kept sniffing delightedly, much to Ann’s amusement.
Miss Pollard had been despatched to a cafe to reserve a table for tea while this “secret” operation was performed. She was waiting for them outside and then they all went on to the harbor front to see the swans and feed them with bread which Miss Pollard had thoughtfully provided.
She took charge of the children and began to point out the various kinds of craft in the harbor, of which it seemed she had a fair knowledge.
“Miss Pollard’s brother helps to build boats,” Guy announced in explanation.
Ann thought, approvingly, she is good with the children when she is teaching them new things. I hope Iain notices. But of course he would. There was so little that ever escaped his keen eyes and hearing.
As they walked round the bay to the place where the moorhens were swimming, he said to Ann, “I’m glad we gave that girl another chance. She’s better with the children than I realized. A pity, in a way, that we’ve decided to send them to school.”
Ann stopped in her tracks. “You’ve decided to send them to school?” she ejaculated. “But I thought ... When are they to go?”
“Next term.” It was his turn to look surprised. “Surely you knew. Surely your mother and Beverley...”
“They haven’t spoken of it to me.”
He looked incredulous. “But you must have realized that that’s why I’ve been at Fountains so often, lately — trying to hammer out some sort of solution. Beverley has said so often that you didn’t want to be bothered with them, and Doctor Lyntrope seemed to think that they were so out of hand that no one could cope with them. After all, you, just as much as Miss Pollard, have been unable to prevent their running away.
“Last time, Mrs. Woods was very upset about the whole business. She said she was tired of carrying the responsibility alone. She’d had such hopes of you, but you’d let her down. And then Maureen came along with details of this school. It’s run just like a big family...”
“A family!” ejaculated Ann bitterly. “But that’s just what a school isn’t.”
“It isn’t ideal,” Sherrarde returned, his handsome eyes scanning her face anxiously. “Anne, I didn’t realize you had no knowledge of this. I didn’t realize you’d care so much.”
“It’s nothing to do with me, I suppose, but—”
“Of course it has something to do with you.” His voice was sharp. “You’re their aunt.”
Ann longed to tell him that she was nothing of the sort. But she couldn’t betray Mrs. Woods and Beverley, no matter how much they had let her down. “Next term?” she said dully. “I just can’t believe it.”
“Your sister and mother seemed to think you would soon be going back to — er — your job. Beverley is very much better in health than she was, but she is not strong enough yet to take charge of them. It’s not fair to throw the full responsibility on to Mrs. Woods. So I had to make a some decision.”
“Yes,” said Ann again dully. It had come then— the time when she must leave Fountains and go back and face her past.
Emma and Guy had run back to them and were urging them to hurry or the water chicks would have swum away. The time for any talk of a private nature had gone.
They played with the children on the beach for half an hour and then it was time for tea. Now came the ceremony of handing over the present, and Averil was suitably taken by surprise and professed herself enchanted by the highly scented pink and lavender and yellow tablets that the two children displayed.
Emma, never backward at dropping a hint, said, “We’d like to use it ourselves, wouldn’t we, Guy?”
Guy, more meticulous about the courtesies and in any case not particularly enamoured of soap, no matter how pink, lavender or yellow and highly scented, reproached his sister.
“It isn’t polite to say you’d like something that you’re giving someone for a present,” he said in a moral tone of voice.
Ann hugged him. It always touched her heart when Guy came out with one of his curiously old-fashioned remarks and she could never discover where he had heard them.
Iain seemed in high humor over tea and had the children in gales of laughter. Averil Pollard raised a significant eyebrow at Ann. There were very likely to be tears after all this excitement.
Ann decided it was time to intervene. “I think we ought to be making tracks for home now,” she said. “Are we to take the bus, Mr. Sherrarde?”
“No, I’ll take you home ... I...” And then he stopped in consultation. “Good lord, I’ve remembered that I promised to pick up my aunt and Maureen at the station. They’ve been to Rentham for the day.”
“We’ll go home by bus,” Ann told him hastily and with a cheerful smile, though a horrid little current of jealousy ran through her at the mention of Maureen Lyntrope’s name.
The children began to screw up their faces in disgust. They didn’t want to go in a bus. They wanted to go by car.
Iain was glancing at his watch. “I ought to go,” he muttered.
Between them, Ann and Miss Pollard hustled the children out of the cafe and they said a tearful farewell to “Uncle Iain.” Ann could cheerfully have shaken them.
On another occasion they would have been only too pleased and excited to be travelling by bus. But they were now in a contrary mood.
This was a busy time of the day and they had to wait in queue for a second bus before they could get on, and then it was so full that Guy and Emma had to sit on the girls’ knees, and they were inclined to be sulky about that.
They were temporarily placated by a game of spotting numbers of cars from the bus window, but this lost its savor when, just outside the town at some traffic lights, a big grey car drew alongside the bus and the children yelled: “Uncle Iain!”
He didn’t hear them, of course, as he was concentrating on the traffic — or was it that his sole passenger was taking up most of his attention?
Miss Pollard said, with a sideways look, “I thought that Mr. Sherrarde said he had to meet his aunt at the station.” And then, as the big car shot ahead, “It’s a pity you didn’t let Burrows bring us in, Miss Woods. We shouldn’t have had to come back in this uncomfortable fashion.”
Ann ignored the latter part of the remark, as it had been said at least three times while they had stood in the bus queue. But she couldn’t ignore the first part because the children immediately took it up.
“Auntie Anne,” demanded Emma in her loudest, most imperious voice, “why did Uncle Iain say he was meeting Aunt Mary? He told a lie.”
Ann reflected not for the first time how intimidating Emma would be once she passed the softness of extreme youth.
“It’s rude to accuse grown-ups of telling lies,” she rebuked, in a low, cool voice. “Look at the cars. You’re missing all the numbers.”
“Is it rude to say they told a story?” asked Guy ingeniously.
“Of course it is,” Miss Pollard put in now, firmly.
“Uncle Iain got the witch in his car. Do you think he likes the witch, Auntie Anne?” Emma’s trumpet-like voice demanded. Surrounding passengers were listening with obvious interest.
“It’s rude to call a person a witch,” Ann said in a low voice. “Look at that car. You’re missing all the number
s.”
“But it isn’t rude if she is a witch,” Emma insisted. “I expect she has bewitched Uncle Iain, and that’s why he told you a lie.”
The passengers were on the alert, obviously waiting for more.
“Emma!” Ann’s voice was exasperated. “Will you please stop talking and watch for the numbers.”
Tears were aching in her throat and she longed passionately to reach Fountains and be alone in her own room, where she could indulge her jealous misery to the full.
Emma’s face took on a half sulky, half mutinous pout. “I think it’s a silly game and I don’t want to play it any longer.”
Guy, as ever, was her faithful ally. “I think it’s a silly game. I don’t want to play either.”
“I don’t like travelling on a bus with all these people,” Emma announced now. “It makes me feel sick.” That gave her a pleasant reminder. “Guy always used to be sick when he went on a bus.” She peered over Ann’s shoulder to look interestedly at her brother on Miss Pollard’s knee on the seat behind.
Ann said hurriedly, “We shall soon be there. Emma, let’s count how many colors we can see.”
This, fortunately, caught the little girl’s fancy, as she knew she could always beat Guy at that game, and there was no further trouble, but all the same Ann heaved a sigh of relief as they got out into the fresh air. She caught the gleam in Miss Pollard’s eye. Yes, it probably would have been better to let Burrows take them in the car...
It would have saved her this further reminder that she was a person of no importance in the life of the Director of the Institute.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MRS. WOODS sprang a surprise next day. “Ann, you’d better come into Sunbury with me this morning,” she said. “It has just occurred to me that you won’t have anything suitable to wear for Matron’s Ball, and so I’ll treat you to a new dress.”
Ann froze. This was an odd volte-face after Mr. Sherrarde’s revelations yesterday afternoon. And was it the result of intervention from him? The idea was intolerable.
“I would prefer not to go to the Ball,” she said flatly. It might seem ungracious, but she could not bring herself to thank Mrs. Woods for her offer. Somehow she was sure that it had been forced upon her.
Mrs. Woods looked angry. “Don’t be silly,” she urged. “It will look very odd for you to stay at home when both Beverley and I are going. You’re staying here as my daughter and you must act the part.”
“Why have you suddenly decided that I should go? Has Mr. Sherrarde something to do with it? Yesterday Emma told him I had no dress. You haven’t ... he hasn’t...?”
Mrs. Woods leaned back in her chair and examined Ann’s face with a kind of cold curiosity. “My dear girl, do you really think that Mr. Sherrarde has any interest in you — apart from the fact that you are a nurse and are attending Beverley? That’s the only reason why I, and probably he, thinks you should be there ... to watch that she doesn’t overtire herself.”
Ann couldn’t restrain the retort which leapt to her lips. “There’ll be plenty of men — doctors, I mean — round her to see that she doesn’t do that.”
“And you can’t bear to be there to see it. You’re jealous of her, aren’t you? Jealous, because of Iain Sherrarde.”
Ann found that color was flooding her face in an angry wave. “Mrs. Woods, you have no right to say such a thing!” But she knew the woman was quite capable of repeating the insinuation to Iain Sherrarde himself. Ann guessed that he had been in touch with Mrs. Woods, despite her denials. He intended her to go to the Ball so that she could be on hand if Beverley collapsed as she had done once before from too much excitement. No doubt he had told Mrs. Woods that if it were a question of a dress then Ann must be provided with one.
Mrs. Woods looked at her perturbed face. “Sink your pride, my dear,” she advised. “It won’t break me to buy you a dress, and in a way I owe you that.”
And that was true enough, since she had received no salary since she came here, thought Ann. This seems the lesser of the two humiliations. I couldn’t bear her to tell him that I won’t go because of his attentions to Beverley...
She said quietly, “Very well, Mrs. Woods, if you insist...”
The other smiled and a close observer might have noted a touch of relief. “Good. We’ll go in about half an hour. Beverley doesn’t really need you now.”
“And the children will be going to school next term?”
“Oh, so you knew about that.” Mrs. Woods looked flustered. “Well, nothing is really settled, and for goodness’ sake don’t mention it to Miss Pollard. I don’t want her to look for another job yet.”
Ann stared with wide eyes and the other went on uneasily, “Now don’t you begin to get unsettled. We don’t want you to go.”
Ann wondered why not. She couldn’t see that either Mrs. Woods or Beverley would want her here when the children had gone away.
“Now hurry up and get ready,” Mrs. Woods said now. “I’m quite looking forward to getting you that dress.”
Ann found that she felt quite excited about it too. Something new for a change.
Unfortunately, just as she was coming out of her room, the children, despite a strict rule that forbade them to come along this corridor, arrived, anxious to take her to see the newly arrived kittens to which Mrs. Smuts, the black cat which was Burrows’ pet, had given birth during the night
“Burrows says we can keep one of them and have it in the house if you say it’s all right,” Guy told her.
“I’m sorry, darlings, but I can’t come now. I’m going out with Nana.”
Guy might have accepted this, but Emma was immediately interested. “Why?” she queried. “You don’t usually go out with Nana. When we asked her why you didn’t go with her or come with Mummy and us in Uncle Iain’s car, she said you were here as a nurse — to Mummy and to us — and not just for enjoying yourself.”
Ann’s look of eager anticipation faded slightly. She hoped that this was merely Emma’s way of being unpleasant because her own plans had been thwarted. But her remark sounded like a true echo of Mrs. Woods.
She said crisply, “Go back to Miss Pollard now, and we’ll all go to look at the kittens this afternoon.”
Again Guy was ready to obey, but Emma was more awkward. “I want to go with you and Nana,” she decided regally. “I haven’t got my best coat on, but I ’spect you won’t wait for us to get dressed again.”
“We certainly shall not,” Ann replied emphatically. “Off you go.”
Usually her orders were obeyed more or less promptly, but this morning Emma obviously had a chip on her shoulder.
“I want to go too,” she wailed, and went swooping downstairs in Ann’s wake. Mrs. Woods was waiting in the hall and her face took on an expression of impatience. “Really, Ann, we can’t take the children, trailing in and out of dress shops.”
Ann reflected that “Nana” was as prone to exaggeration as her granddaughter. There were certainly not all that number of dress shops in Sunbury; certainly not out of season.
“They are going to look for Miss Pollard,” she explained clearly, and with a nod of dismissal turned away from them.
The resulting scene was wearing to everybody, and not least to Ann, who had been priding herself that the children’s behavior had much improved since she herself had taken charge of them. This was certainly a lapse — and a bad one.
Mrs. Woods’ remarks were cutting in the extreme about the abilities of two mature young women to control two tiny children before Averil Pollard managed to shepherd them away and Ann was able to climb into the car.
However, Mrs. Woods soon turned a smiling face on her companion and it was not in Ann’s nature to harbor resentment. After all, the children had been tiresome, and she and Miss Pollard were in charge of them. In addition, her excitement about having a new dress hadn’t been dimmed by the fracas — merely forgotten for a few minutes.
To her disappointment, Mrs. Woods led the way into a cheap, flas
hy sort of shop where a girl came forward, called rather stridently by the manageress.
“We want a dance dress for this young lady — some thing in blue,” said Mrs. Woods imperiously.
Ann looked around her wildly. No, no, no, she thought. I’d rather die than wear a dress from this shop.
The girl did her best, but there was nothing very much in blue that she could display. “Not a fashionable color this year, madam,” and Mrs. Woods swept out.
“We’ll have to go to Irene’s,” she grumbled, and then, as if suddenly recollecting herself: “I’d heard such good reports of that last shop, darling. I thought we ought to try. However, we may find something not too expensive at Irene’s.”
Ann began to feel uncomfortable. When people were giving you a present, they shouldn’t talk about expense; they should leave that to you.
Irene’s window was dressed simply with an artistically draped coat and skirt, a frothy scarf and a pair of gloves. Ann sighed. She was afraid that everything here would be far too expensive.
This time Mrs. Woods knew better than to ask for “something blue.” She knew the smart, elderly woman who came forward and she introduced Ann nonchalantly.
“This is my second daughter, Anne, Mrs. Ford, who insisted on going to train as a nurse.” She gave an artificial shudder. “Such noble work, but I couldn’t bear it!”
Mrs. Ford said smoothly, “A good thing we’re not all cut out in the same model, Mrs. Woods. So boring ... in people as in dresses.” She gave Ann a singularly sweet smile.
Mrs. Woods went on in a voice that sounded very artificial to Ann, “We want a dress for her to wear at Matron’s Ball ... nothing elaborate ... Anne has so few opportunities for wearing anything expensive. In hospital, you go in for a lot of these matey ‘hops,’ don’t you, darling, wearing cotton frocks, or separates.”
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