by Betty Neels
She got there too soon and parked the car some distance from the wide gateway, thinking up suitable answers to the likely questions shee might expect, but this palled after a time and she allowed herself to think of Mr Scott-Thurlow. What would he be doing? she wondered. Sitting in some handsome consulting-room, she supposed, behind an imposing desk, listening courteously to some wealthy patient complaining about his bones. On the other hand, he might he doing one of those ward rounds which always looked so impressive in films. He might even be spending the day with Rhoda...
Mr Scott-Thurlow was bending his large person over his patient on the operating table, meticulously piecing together bits of a bone in a boy's leg, wiring them together and fitting them into a whole with all the care of a jigsaw puzzle enthusiast. Unlike Matilda, he wasn't allowing his thoughts to wander...
Matilda glanced at her watch and started the car, turned in through the gates and stopped neatly in front of the front entrance of the school. It had at one time been the country estate of a member of the eighteenth-century nobility, a point stressed in the prospectus, and any necessary additions and alterations which had been done had been prudently carried out at the back of it and its imposing Georgian front had been left in its original state. Matilda got out, rang the bell and waited composedly to be admitted. The maid who came to the door was rather wooden-faced and dressed in a print frock, white apron and cap. A nice touch, thought Matilda, suitable for a school which had a high reputation for the educating of girls. She gave her name, was shown to a small room at the side of the hall, and sat down, still composed. She wasn't kept waiting long; the maid returned and led her across the hall, knocked on a door and opened it for her. The room was light, high-ceilinged and well furnished rather severely, a fitting background for the stern lady sitting behind the desk.
She didn't get up but said, `Good morning, Miss ffinch. Please sit down.'
Matilda got to her feet fifteen minutes latershe had got the job. Her quiet answers seemed to satisfy her questioner; her references, from Dr Bramley and her godfather, who was a bishop, were impeccable. She was asked to start in two days' time and to remain until one week after the end of term. `You must understand,' said Miss Tremble, `that this is a temporary post only. You will have one day a week free, that is from directly after breakfast until ten o'clock. It will be one of your duties to get up at night should you be needed. There is a head matron, who will direct you in your work, and another assistant matron who looks after the older girls. Be good enough to come with me so that you may see the school.'
The classrooms were on the ground floor, hives of activity into which she wasn't taken. `You will have nothing to do with the teaching of the girls, of course,' said Miss Tremble in a quelling voice and led the way up the handsome staircase. The dormitories were airy and comfortable, with four or six beds in each of them. `The small girls sleep in these four rooms and your room is at the end of the corridor.'
She was shown a small, nicely furnished room with a bathroom leading from it. `You share this with the assistant matron,' she was told, and, `There is a small kitchenette where you make tea and coffee if you wish. Your free time will vary from day to day and you will be responsible for accompanying any child who needs to go to the dentist or doctor's surgery.'
She was led downstairs again, bidden goodbye in a voice only slightly less severe than earlier, had her hand shaken with the brisk reminder that she would be expected by ten o' clock on the second day from then, and was ushered out by the wooden-faced maid.
Matilda drove herself home, occasionally breaking into song and uttering little yelps of delight between mental calculations as to how much exactly she would earn. She would have to wait a month, of course, for her cheque and there would be only the extra week after that; all the same, it would be a useful sum. She drove the car round to the garage and went in through the kitchen door.
`Did they give you coffee?' her mother asked, shucking broad beans at the table. `And did you get the job, Tilly?'
Matilda chucked her jacket over a chair. `No to the coffee, and yes to the job.' She went to the Aga and fetched the coffee-pot and a mug. `I start the day after tomorrow...'
`Sit down, darling, and tell me all about itno, wait a minute, I'll get your father, he's in the study, and Hilary's somewhere...'
They gathered round while she told them and then sat back listening to their pleased remarks. How different from the polite talk when James had visited his grandparents; she felt sorry for him never to have had the simple pleasure of sitting in a loving family circle, knowing that everyone there was as pleased as you were, hanging on every word and then all talking at once. She mustn't think about him though. She was doing what she had said she would do, making a bidd for independence. The job was temporary, but it was a first step in the right direction, and the money was three times what Lady Fox had paid her.
Hilary drove her to the school. `Very impressive,' she observed as they arrived. `Do you want me to wait?"
'No, love.' Matilda got her case off the back seat and stuck her head through the window. `Thanks for bringing me. I'll phone as soon as I know when I can have a day off. Someone will have to fetch me and bring me back.'
`Oh, Max is down for the weekend to discuss the wedding-he'll come for you if you're free.'
The same maid opened the door and this time she said, `Good morning, miss,' and when Matilda asked her name told her it was Winnie. `And I'm to take you straight to Miss Tremble, miss.'
Matilda put her case down and, following her across the hall, went in to Miss Tremble's room. This time Miss Tremble smiled as she entered. `I hope that you are prepared to start work at once, Miss flinch? Winnie will take you to your room and my senior matron, Mrs Down, will tel 1 you exactly what your daily routine will be.'
Mrs Down was comfortably middle-aged and pleased to see Matilda. `We've been run off our feet, me and Joan-that is, Miss Willis. We're making beds, as you can see, but now that you're here I shall be free to see to the sick-bay, check the laundry and inspect the dormitories. You'll need an overall. Come with me and I'll see if I can find one to fit you.'
Matilda was a girl of noble proportions and it was only after a good deal of searching through various linen cupboards that a garment was found that fitted more or less. `There are two, thank heaven,' breathed Mrs Down. `They belonged to a rather stout matron we had for a time. Not that you are stout, my dear. On the contrary, you have a lovely figure-such a small waist too.'
Matilda enveloped herself in the garment, belted it firmly and was led away to inspect the dormitories, where the assistant matron was making beds on her own. She looked cross and Mrs Down said, `Supposing you give Miss Willis a hand first? Then we'll have a cup of coffee and explain the routine to you.'
When she had gone, Miss Willis said, `Call me Joan-what's your name?"
'Matilda, and do call me that. Do the little girls call us by our Christian names?"
'Lord, no, Miss Tremble would never allow it. This isn't a free-and-easy place-the children have to behave and there's no familiarity allowed. They're happy enough though.'
The beds made, they went downstairs to a small sitting-room next to the kitchen. `This is our room,' said Mrs Down. `Not that we get much time to sit in it. We're supposed to have three hours off each day but it doesn't always work out that way-we take what we can get. You get a day off, of course, but Miss Tremble won't let any of us sleep out.'
`Yes, she told me that, but I don't live very far away-Abner Magna. Someone will fetch me after breakfast and bring me back in the evening.'
`That's nice. Now, Matilda, I'll explain your work...'
A busy day, thought Matilda, listening carefully, especially mornings and evenings, when a score of small girls would have to be readied for their day and bathed and bedded each night.
`Quite often at weekends parents come down and take them out for tea-that's allowed. We don't get our days off at weekends, by the way.'
Mrs Down bustled
away and Matilda was led off to be shown the dining-room, the cloakrooms, the changing-rooms and the room where the children could play in their free time. Despite its imposing appearance and Miss Tremble's rather severe demeanour, the place seemed comfortable and homely and the girls she glimpsed looked happy as they hurried from one class to another.
After that first day she enjoyed her work. She had some twenty small girls in her care but over and above them there were a number of chores she was expected to do so that her days were filled. The food was good and her room, though small, was comfortable. She liked the little girls and they loved her; she tucked them into their beds each night, listened to their small worries, admired pictures of Mummy and Daddy, plaited hair, inspected fingernails and cuddled the tearful victims of bruises and grazed knees. At the end of a week she was given her day off and went home, fetched by Hilary. The day went too quickly-there was such a lot to talk aboutand when she had exhausted her descriptions of her work at the school there was plenty of village gossip to be discussed.
`One shouldn't listen to gossip,' observed her mother, `but one does hear things, you know... They say that Lady Fox has given the new secretary a week's notice, but I don't believe it; she looked very firmly entrenched in church last Sunday. Roseanne is still in hospital, of course. Her arm plaster is to come off next week. Lady Fox is fussing because Mr Scott-Thurlow hasn't sent in his account. I did point out that he wasn't likely to do that until Roseanne is on her feet again and he can discharge her. After all, he's not the butcher or the baker, is he?'
Matilda had gone a little pink at his name but all she said was, `I wonder when Roseanne and Bernard are going to marry?"
'September, I believe. Dr Bramley told me that Mr Scott-Thurlow is working too hard. That fiance of his tries to get him to go out in the evenings and spend the weekends with her friends in the country but he almost always refuses.' Mrs ffinch sighed. `She seems so very unsuitable for him...'
`Well, he doesn't have to marry her,' said Matilda, and just for a moment her eyes shone at the thought. `But I expect he will,' she added soberly.
Her father drove her back that evening and before she got into her bed she trod softly through the dormitories, making sure that the children were sleeping. Only one little girl was awake. One of the youngest there, Lucy Phelps, almost seven years old, whose parents were somewhere in South America where it wasn't wise to take children. Her father was head of a medical team sent out to get a new hospital started and her mother had gone with him; they wouldn't be home again for months and Lucy was homesick.
Matilda sat down on her bed, put her on her lap and cuddled her and let her cry quietly. `Three months will go very quickly, darling. Where are you going for your holidays?"
'To my godfather-he's nice but he's not Daddy or Mummy.'
Matilda offered a handkerchief to mop at a small red nose. `Of course he's not, but aren't you lucky to have him? When you come back after the holidays your mummy and daddy will be coming home in just a few weeks.'
She popped the moppet back into her bed and tucked her up and bent to kiss the wet cheek.
`I like you,' said Lucy, `I like your name too. Do they call you Tilly at home? Have you got a mummy and daddy?'
`Indeed I have; brothers and sisters too.'
`Mummy promised me that I can have a baby brother or sister when they come home. I shan't have to be a boarder then.'
`Now, that is something nice to look forward to, love. Do go to sleep now.'
The days slipped away, filled with monotonous jobs which seldom varied, but the little girls were fun, she got on well with Mrs Down and Joan and seldom saw Miss Tremble, and between them they mostly contrived to get an hour or so to themselves each day. On her next free day she had got Hilary to drive her to King's Hall on their way home and went to see how Roseanne was getting on. Her arm was out of plaster now and she was sitting up in bed, her leg still in extension. She was pleased to see Matilda and began at once to talk about herself and Bernard. `You see my arm is quite all right now, but I've got to stay like this for weeks until my leg's all right. Mr Scott-Thurlow says it will be perfectly sound by September so we shall get married then.' She paused to eye Matilda. `Mother said you'd got a job at a school. Do you like it?"
'Yes, I do...'
`Are there any men there?'
`Two gardeners and an odd-job man.'
`Don't you want to get married?'
`Not to a gardener or an odd-job man. I must fly; they're expecting me at home.'
The last few days of term came and Matilda was busy packing trunks, finding lost garments, writing labels and washing small heads of hair. Mrs Down was going with the children who had a train journey. The school bus would take them to Yeovil and it was her task to get the little girls into the right trains before boarding the London train herself. Joan was to leave next, to go home to her mother in the Midlands, leaving Matilda to see that the remaining children were collected by parents before beginning on the hefty job of stripping beds, getting the dormitories ready for the maids to clean, tidying the playroom, checking that nothing had been left in drawers or cupboards and then putting out clean bed linen by each bed ready for the beds to be made up before the new term started.
`A pity you won't be here,' commented Mrs Down, `for you've fitted in very well, Matilda, and you're a good worker, but Joyce will be back-Miss Tremble told me this morning.'
The children were excited, getting them ready for their various journeys took all her time, and it was a relief to see the busload drive off. Joan, with the two little girls she was escorting to Manchester on her way home, left next and that left a bare dozen children, waiting more or less patiently for their parents to fetch them. Most of them were older girls with whom Matilda had had little to do and they went off in ones and twos until she was left with four of the smallest, Lucy among them.
They sat on a wall in the sunshine, hardly moving because they wanted to look their best, and Matilda, sensing their impatience, started a game of `I spy with my little eye' to keep them occupied.
A car came up the drive and one of the children rushed to meet it; that left Lucy and two sisters. Their father came next, made polite conversation for a few minutes, scooped them up and bore them off. That left Lucy.
`He's not coming...'
`Of course he is, love. Perhaps he's got to drive miles and miles to get here.' As she spoke they both heard the car and stood up expectantly.
`It's here-it's Uncle James!' screamed Lucy as the Rolls came to a quiet stop and Mr ScottThurlow got out. He caught the little girl in his arms and hugged her but his eyes were upon Matilda, standing there in her outsize overall, her hair, as usual, rather untidy.
They stared at each other for a long moment until Matilda said inadequately, `Hello.'
`You do pop up in the most unexpected places,' he said, `just when I think...' He stopped because someone else had got out of the car-Rhoda, dressed as for a garden party and quite breathtakingly lovely.
She put a gloved hand on Lucy's head. `Don't blame your uncle because he's late-it was naughty me; I couldn't find the right clothes to wear.' She glanced across to where Matilda was standing. `The cook-how we do keep meeting, don't we? Is this your latest job?'
Matilda took no notice. She said, `You're Lucy's godfather... ?'
He had an arm round the little girl's shoulders.
`Indeed I am. And you, Matilda, what are you?"
'A school matron-you see, I found a job.'
`Permanent?'
She was so delighted to see him that she didn't stop to think. `No. I finish at the end of the week...'
`So you will be out of work again,' drawled Rhoda in a sugary voice.
Matilda hadn't heard her. Somehow she and Mr Scott-Thurlow were in a world of their own-not for long, she knew that; he would make some chillingly polite remark and go away again.
She wasn't sure if she could bear that, but she would have to.
`Do you know Uncle James?'
piped Lucy. `You could come and stay with us, Miss ffinch.'
Matilda saw the look on Rhoda's face; she didn't dare look at James. 'Lucy, dear, I have to be here for another week and then I'm going home, but it's very kind of you to think of it.'
Lucy wasn't to be side-tracked. `Will you be here next term? I won't come back unless you are.'
`Listen, love, your mummy and daddy will be home again in just a few weeks after you come back here and I expect you won't need to be a boarder then.'
`You're not coming back?'
`No. I came for a week or two while Miss Tring was ill. She's better now.'
`But I'll see you again.'
The conversation had gone on long enough. Matilda gave her a hug and kissed a round pink cheek. `Won't it be fun if we do?' she admonished.