by Betty Neels
‘There’s coffee,’ said Mrs Harding a little breathlessly. This marvellous man—and Olivia knew him. Her thoughts were already wrapped in bridal veils and orange blossom. ‘Come in and meet my mother.’
Mrs Fitzgibbon was sitting in her chair, the uncomfortable one, and one glance at her sufficed to cause Mr van der Eisler to adopt his best bedside manner. He became all at once self-assured, deferential, and the epitome of a successful man who knew his own worth without being boastful about it.
Olivia watched her grandmother’s starchy manner melt into graciousness while they drank their coffee and Nel roamed round the room, looking at photographs and ornaments. Olivia had got up to show Nel the little musical box on the side-table when she heard her grandmother remark, ‘Of course, Olivia is quite unskilled. Never needed to work, and now that it is unfortunately necessary her limitations are evident. But there, I am an old woman now and must bear with life’s disappointments.’
Olivia supposed that she herself was one of them and was much heartened by Mr van der Eisler’s grave, ‘I must beg to differ, Mrs Fitzgibbon. Olivia is fulfilling a much-needed want at Nel’s school. It needs patience and kindness and understanding to care for children. I am told by the headmistress that she is worth her weight in gold.’
He turned to Mrs Harding then. ‘You must be so relieved to know that Olivia is so successful. The school is a good one and the surroundings are pleasant. Perhaps you will be able to visit her?’
‘Well, Olivia has asked me to go and stay with her during the term. I know I shall love it.’
Mrs Fitzgibbon sighed loudly. ‘How lucky that you are young enough to go and enjoy yourself. I, alas, must stay here alone.’
Mr van der Eisler said easily, ‘I’m sure you would have no difficulty in finding a companion, Mrs Fitzgibbon.’ He stood up. ‘You must forgive me if we leave now. Nel’s grandmother will be waiting for her.’
There was a small delay while Olivia whisked Nel upstairs, but not before the child had said in a clear little voice, ‘Just in case I should get caught short before we get to Granny’s house. Uncle Haso is in a hurry.’
‘The age of modesty is long past,’ said Mrs Fitzgibbon faintly.
‘The seat’s big enough for the pair of you,’ said Mr van der Eisler, fastening the seatbelt round the pair of them and casting the luggage into the boot, then getting in beside them and driving away with a wave.
‘I don’t like your granny,’ said Nel, and her godfather turned a laugh into a cough.
‘She’s old,’ said Olivia, and added, ‘I expect when you’re old you sometimes say things that other people just think to themselves…’
‘She said you were one of life’s disappointments…’
‘Yes, well, I suppose I am from her point of view. You see, she expected me to grow up small and dainty and get married when I was young.’
‘Aren’t you young?’
‘Not very, I’m afraid.’
‘Well, you’re very pretty. I must see if I can find a husband for you,’ said Nel importantly.
Mr van der Eisler spoke in a matter-of-fact manner. ‘Most ladies prefer to choose their own husbands.’
Olivia, rather red in the face, said smartly, ‘I had always thought that the men did the choosing.’
Mr van der Eisler chuckled. ‘Don’t you believe it. They may be under the impression that they are doing so but it is after all the lady who decides.’
‘I shall marry a prince,’ said Nel, a remark which Olivia welcomed with relief since it was a topic which lasted until they were clear of the last of the suburbs and driving smoothly on the motorway.
As they neared Bath she was rather surprised when he turned off the motorway and took the Chippenham road, and still more surprised when he turned off once more into a narrow country road.
He glanced at his watch. ‘On time,’ he observed. ‘Your granny will be waiting.’
‘The school—?’ began Olivia.
‘After lunch. Lady Brennon asked me to bring you to lunch with her first.’
‘But I don’t know her.’
‘Of course you don’t; you’ve never met her,’ he uttered, in such a reasonable voice that she couldn’t think of an answer.
Meeting Lady Brennon, Olivia wished that she had a granny like her—smiling a welcome, delighted to see them all, hugging her small granddaughter, including Olivia in the talk. They sat down presently, in the rather old-fashioned dining-room, to crown of lamb and new potatoes and vegetables, which Lady Brennon assured her had been grown in her garden.
‘You like the country?’ she asked.
Olivia said that yes, she did and that she had spent her youth not so very far away from Earleigh Gilford. She offered no further details, though, and her hostess didn’t question her further, and presently, after a stroll around the garden, Mr van der Eisler suggested that they should go.
Olivia got ready without any fuss and went out to the car, with Nel hanging on to her arm, after bidding Lady Brennon goodbye and thanking her with her nice manners so that that lady observed to Mr van der Eisler, ‘A charming girl. Miss Cross has got herself a gem there. You did well to busy yourself with her welfare, Haso. She has no idea that it was you?’
‘No, and I do not wish her to know either. I’m glad that she has found a worthwhile job.’
‘You’ll come back for tea before you return to town? We haven’t had a talk about Rita.’
At the school he took the key to the annexe and opened the door, fetched her luggage and then inspected the small living-room, wandering slowly round, looking at the cheap and cheerful prints on its walls, peering at the bookshelves. Before the mantelpiece he stopped to pick up the card on it.
‘Well, well, so Rodney has invited you to his wedding. Surely an unkind thing to do? Turning the knife in the wound, as it were?’
‘Don’t be absurd,’ said Olivia. ‘There isn’t a wound. I dare say he asked me because we’ve known each other for a long time.’
Mr van der Eisler flipped the card with a nicely manicured fingernail. ‘With companion…’ He turned the card over and read aloud, ‘“I don’t know the name of your fiancé but we hope that he will come with you”.’
Olivia was very pink in the face. ‘It’s really none of your business…’
‘Ah, but it is, Olivia. I may be only a chance acquaintance but I do not wish to see you humiliated. You intend going?’
She found herself telling him that she did. ‘It’s half-term so I’m free, and the wedding is at Bradford-on-Avon. I suppose she lives there.’
‘I shall escort you. You will wear a pretty frock and one of those hats women wear at weddings, and I shall do you proud in a morning suit. You will linger in Rodney’s memory in the best possible light—well-dressed, carefree, and safe in the knowledge that your future is secured.’
‘Are you joking?’ asked Olivia.
‘Certainly not; marriage is no joking matter.’
She said rudely, ‘How would you know, you aren’t married, are you?’ She wished the remark unsaid at once, but it was too late. She muttered, ‘Sorry, that was dreadfully rude.’
He said silkily, ‘Yes, it was. None the less, I shall accompany you to this wedding. It is the least I can do.’ He put the card back and went to the door. ‘We seem fated to meet unexpectedly, do we not?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, but you don’t need to come to the wedding, you know. You could be busy in the city or something.’
‘I rather fancy seeing Rodney safely married.’
He opened the door and she held out a hand. ‘Thank you very much for bringing me back. I’m most grateful.’ She added, ‘Nel is fortunate to have such a loving granny.’
‘Yes.’ He took her hand and smiled very kindly at her. ‘Which cannot be said for you, Olivia.’
She said gruffly, ‘Well, she’s old, and I’m not what she hoped for.’
He bent and kissed her lightly. ‘Goodbye, Olivia.’
She stood at the d
oor and watched him drive away. The kiss had rather shaken her but she didn’t let it linger in her thoughts. She went back into the living-room and picked up the wedding invitation. ‘I very much dislike being pitied,’ she said savagely. ‘For two pins I shan’t go to Rodney’s wedding.’
She had no chance to brood. She settled into her little home, joined the rest of the staff for a discussion as to the term’s objectives, and was detailed to check the dormitories with the matron and then, when the children arrived, to get them unpacked and settled in—several hours of hard work and bustle, followed by a number of tearful sessions with those who wanted to go home again.
The weeks, slow to pass at first, quickened their pace; she enjoyed her job despite the fact that she was at everyone’s beck and call. She found herself painting scenery for the next end-of-term play, acting as ballboy when she wasn’t showing the smallest of the pupils how to hold their racquets, playing rounders, or organising games when the weather was wet. From time to time in unexpected emergencies she found herself taking a reading lesson. Not the least of her tasks was caring for the children’s clothes, also helping Matron with their hair-washing, driving to the doctor or the dentist and once, when Cook was ill, cooking school dinner.
Half-term suddenly loomed, and Rodney’s wedding. She hadn’t heard from Mr van der Eisler and she stifled disappointment. Still, she would go to the wedding. Miss Cross was generous with the car; she was sure that she would be allowed to borrow it since it would be half-term and there would be very few people remaining at school.
On her next day off she took herself into Bath; a suitable outfit was essential. All her summer dresses she had had for several years, and Rodney would recognise any of them. Something simple and cheap in a silvery-green, which wouldn’t clash with her hair and her pansy eyes, would do nicely.
She found what she wanted after a long search. A plain, delicate green sheath with short sleeves and a modest neckline. Its fabric looked like linen although it was nothing of the sort. It was one of dozens on a rail in British Home Stores, but she guessed that the guests at Rodney’s wedding would hardly shop there and wouldn’t recognise it for what it was. She had her Italian sandals from better days, and a pair of good stone-coloured gloves. It was just a question of a hat.
She saw several that she liked, but their prices were well beyond her purse. Getting tired and cross, she finally found what she wanted in a department store—a perfectly plain wide-brimmed straw which she bore back to the haberdashery department so that she might match up a ribbon with the dress. The ribbon was expensive, but it transformed the hat and matched the dress exactly. She spent the rest of her day off tying it around the hat, leaving a large silky bow at the back. It might not be a model hat but it gave a very good imitation of one.
Half-term came and the school emptied for four days. Olivia, plaiting Nel’s hair and making sure that her school hat was at the correct angle, was touched when the child said, ‘I wish you were coming to Granny’s with me, Olivia.’
‘Well, that would be fun, my dear, but you’ll have a lovely time with your granny. I expect she’s got all kinds of treats waiting for you.’
Nel nodded. ‘Do you ever have treats?’ she wanted to know.
‘I’m going to a wedding the day after tomorrow, and I’ve got a new hat.’
‘Not your wedding?’ asked Nel anxiously.
‘No, my dear. Now off with you, Miss Cross wants you all to be in the hall by ten o’clock.’
The place was very empty without the children. The rest of the day was spent clearing up after the last of them had gone and putting everything ready for their return. The next day, with time to herself and only a handful of the staff still there, Olivia took herself off for a long walk and then spent plenty of time washing her hair and doing her nails. Miss Cross had given her permission to take the car and everything was arranged. She went into the garden behind the annexe, her hair still damp and hanging down her back, only to be called back indoors because she was wanted on the phone.
Mr van der Eisler’s ‘Hello, Olivia’ was uttered in a voice of casual calm.
‘Oh, it’s you…’
‘Indeed, it is I. Did I not say that I would telephone?’
‘Well, yes, you did. Only it’s tomorrow—I thought you’d forgotten.’
‘Certainly not. Now, let us see. We need to be at the church fifteen minutes or so before the bride, do we not? Fifteen minutes to drive there, half an hour at your place for coffee and a chat. The wedding is at noon, is it not? I’ll be with you at eleven o’clock.’
‘Very well, I’ll have coffee ready. Where are you? It sounds as though someone’s washing up.’
‘I’ve been operating; they’re clearing Theatre.’
She wished she could think of something clever in answer. All she said was, ‘Won’t you be too tired? I mean, to drive down here tomorrow. You’ll be careful?’
Mr van der Eisler suppressed a laugh. ‘I will be careful, Olivia.’
‘I expect you’re busy. Goodbye, and thank you for ringing.’
She went back to her room and dried her hair, telling herself sternly not to get too excited, he was only doing what he had promised to do. It was kind of him. He had guessed that to go alone to Rodney’s wedding would have been humiliating for her and to refuse would have been even worse—she could imagine the wagging tongues…
Mr van der Eisler went home to his dinner and then went back to the hospital again to check on his patient’s condition and talk to his registrar. It was very late by the time he went to his bed and even then he lay for a time thinking about Olivia.
She was doing the same thing but since she was sleepy her thoughts were muddled and soon dissolved in sleep, and in the light of morning she dismissed them; there was too much to do.
She had her breakfast, tidied the little living-room, laid a tray for coffee and put everything ready to make sandwiches before going to dress. She didn’t look too bad, she conceded, peering at her person in the spotty looking-glass behind the shower-room door. The dress would pass muster since her shoes and gloves and clutch bag were expensive, treasured leftovers from more prosperous days. The hat was a success too. She left it on the bed and went downstairs to put on the kettle and cut the sandwiches.
Just in time. The car came to a silent halt before her narrow front door and Mr van der Eisler, magnificent in a morning suit, got out.
She flung open the door. ‘Hello—how very elegant you look…’
He took her hand. ‘You’ve stolen my words, Olivia.’ He studied her slowly. ‘You look elegant. You also look beautiful; the bride is going to have difficulty in capturing everyone’s attention once you get there.’
She went pink. ‘You’re joking—I hope so, it’s the bride’s day. We’ll sit at the back…’
She led the way into the living-room, adding worriedly, ‘And I’m not elegant, it’s a dress from British Home Stores.’ As she poured the coffee she said, ‘We’ll be able to slip away the moment they’ve left the reception. I expect you will want to get back to the hospital.’
‘I have left things in the capable hands of my registrar. You are happy here, Olivia?’
‘Oh, yes. Mother is coming to stay in another week or so. Wasn’t it extraordinary that an old friend of Granny’s should have written?’
‘Indeed. Fate isn’t always unkind, Olivia.’
‘No. Have you been in Holland recently?’
‘Yes. I came back a few days ago. I saw Debbie recently; she has become engaged to someone called Fred. Her father has a job as a part-time porter at Jerome’s. So fate has been kind to her too.’
‘Oh, I’m so glad. If you see her again will you tell her how happy I am? I’ll write once school had settled down again.’ She saw him glance at his watch. ‘Is it time for us to leave? I’ll get my hat.’
It took a few minutes to get it perched just so on her bright head and, although she felt fairly satisfied with the result, she felt shy as she went do
wnstairs again.
He was standing at the window but he turned round as she went into the room. ‘Charming. A wedding-hat par excellence.’
She had been clever, he reflected. The dress was cheap, but elegant, the hat was no milliner’s model but it had style, and her gloves and shoes were beyond reproach. Mr van der Eisler, being the man he was, would have escorted her dressed in a sack and a man’s cloth cap without a tremor, but he was glad for her sake that she had contrived to look so stunning.
The church, when they reached it, was already almost full and their seats at the back gave them a good view of the congregation without drawing attention to themselves. Although one or two people had turned round to look at them, recognised Olivia, studied Mr van der Eisler with deep interest and whispered to their neighbours.
Rodney was standing with his best man and didn’t look round, even when the little flurry at the church door heralded the arrival of the bride.
Olivia, whose heart was as generously large as her person, felt a pang of concern at the sight of her. A rather short girl and dumpy, and decked out most unsuitably in quantities of white lace and satin. She had a long thin nose, too, and although her eyes were large and blue her mouth was discontented. On her wedding-day? thought Olivia. Perhaps her shoes pinch!
She still looked discontented as she and Rodney came down the aisle later, but Rodney looked pleased with himself, smiling and nodding to his friends. At the sight of Olivia his smile faltered for a moment, and then he grinned and winked before leading his bride out into the churchyard for the photographs.
The reception was at the bride’s home, with a marquee on the lawn behind the solid redbrick residence. Rodney, decided Olivia, getting out of the car, had done well for himself.
Guests were arriving all the time and as a car drew up to park beside them a woman of Olivia’s age poked her head out of its window.
‘Olivia, my dear girl—someone said you were in church. Such a surprise, we all thought that you and Rodney—’ She broke off as Mr van der Eisler joined Olivia.
Sarah Dowling had never been one of Olivia’s friends but an acquaintance merely, living some miles away from her home and encountered only at dances in other people’s houses. ‘Hello, Sarah,’ she smiled, from under the brim of her hat. ‘Isn’t it a lovely day for a wedding? Of course we had to come to the wedding—Rodney and I are such old friends…’