by Betty Neels
`Could we have a picnic lunch in the garden? All of us-sandwiches and so on. Would it upset your plans if we had our dinner in the evening? I'd hate to miss any of this wonderful sun...'
`Anything you say, Mr James,' said Emma. `It's a treat to have someone in the house. I am going to miss you when you've all gone.'
`I promise you we shall come back again, Emma.'
Matilda, watching Emma's face, knew exactly what she was thinking-if Rhoda were to come she would prefer to be on her own, thank you.
Breakfast over, James astonished Matilda by doing the washing-up while she and Emma cleared the table and set the place to rights again and then went to make the beds.
`Don't be long about it,' he called after them. 'Lucy, feed the dogs, will you? Everything is ready on the garden table.'
So presently, their chores done and leaving Emma to have what she called a nice sit-down, they went down the path to the beach. The tide was on the turn and it was already warm. Matilda sat down against a convenient rock, rammed her wide straw hat over her bright hair and delved into the large straw bag she had brought with her. She had prudently got into her swimsuit and donned her dress on top of it, feeling shy of James, but Lucy's childish bikini was there, and so were three cans of lemonade, a bag of doughnuts, some Dettol cream and some Band-Aids. There was a paperback there too, but she didn't think she would have a chance to read. She hoped she wouldn't.
Her hopes were realised; Mr Scott-Thurlow was transformed from a rather unapproachable consultant surgeon to a godfather willing to do anything within reason. They built a tremendous sand-castle with a channel running down to the water and a moat around it and then they sat eating their doughnuts while the tide came in and washed it all away again.
`Time for a swim,' said Mr Scott-Thurlow and stripped off his shirt and trousers, caught up Lucy in a giggling bundle and waded into the water, leaving Matilda to peel off her dress and follow them.
Lucy had to demonstrate her swimming prowess and, that done, sat happily enough on the beach with the water washing around her feet while Matilda and Mr Scott-Thurlow swam strongly out to sea and back again, and once back they lay, the three of them, with the gentle waves washing over them, soaking up the sun. The tide was coming in, so they got up reluctantly and went to sit out of reach of the water, and presently at Lucy's insistence they built another sand-castle. Matilda, obediently filling buckets of sand and handing it over to the builders, thought what a splendid father he would make and lost herself in a daydream peopled by a horde of little Scott-Thurlows, herself and James, so that she was only aroused by repeated shouts for more sand.
They had their picnic in the garden with Emma and then lay about doing nothing until it was time for tea. After tea, in the cool of the late afternoon, they went walking. Down the hill to Slapton Sands, still packed with day visitors, to
walk along the sands, barefooted, splashing along on the very edge of the sea. When they got back to the cottage they showered and changed and sat down to one of Emma's delicious meals. Garlic mushrooms, roast chicken with all the trimmings, a pile of roast potatoes and asparagus, creamed spinach and baby corn, and one of her fruit pies with a crust which melted in the mouth and loaded down with clotted cream.
They sat over the meal until Matilda gathered up Lucy, already half asleep, and bore her off to her bed. When she came down Emma had taken the coffee into the sitting-room and they sat over that too. Presently Mr Scott-Thurlow suggested that a stroll along the sand would be pleasant on such a splendid evening, so Matilda fetched a cardigan and slung it around her shoulders and accompanied him down to the beach once more.
`You really ought to go to bed early,' she told him. `You shouldn't burn the candle at both ends.'
`Afraid I might let the knife slip? I have never met a girl who was so anxious to order my life for me, Matilda.'
His mocking voice hurt her and wakened her quick temper. `Don't talk nonsense-I don't imagine there is anyone on this earth who can do that, and if there is it's Rhoda.'
`You are mistaken. Nothing and no one, save one person, will have the power to change my life.'
She had her mouth open to ask who the someone was and then snapped it shut; it wasn't her business, but did it mean that he wasn't going to marry Rhoda? She said in her best social manner, `What a delightful evening it is; we're having a marvellous summer.'
He answered her with a hint of a laugh in his voice. `Indeed, yes-the most marvellous summer of my life.'
Which wasn't quite the answer she had expected; she worked away at her small talk and he politely followed her lead and in a little while they went back to the cottage and said goodnight.
The next day followed the pattern of the previous one only there was no stroll in the evening, for after dinner, eaten a little earlier than usual, Mr Scott-Thurlow prepared to leave.
`Must you go?' asked Lucy tearfully.
`Yes, but I'm taking my two lovely days here back with me, aren't I? And who knows, I may come again before you go back to school. In any case I'll come and fetch you back to London and take you back to Miss Tremble's.'
He swung her up in his great arms and kissed her soundly and then hugged Emma. `Dear Emma, thank you...' He kissed her pink cheek with affection. Matilda, standing a little apart, wondered if they should shake hands, or would he give her a friendly nod as he went?
He did neither; he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her too, another gentle, lingering kiss which sent her pulses racing and took her breath, but not quite all of it for she kissed him back, flinging good sense to the winds again, never mind the future, never mind Rhoda, this moment was hers.
Mr Scott-Thurlow straightened his imposing height and then stood looking at her. He said nothing at all but bent once more and kissed her again, this time swift and hard.
They stood at the cottage door waving him goodbye. `He kissed you twice,' said Lucy. `I think Uncle James likes you very much, Matilda.'
`Bedtime, love!' said Emma. `You uncle likes us all and what a lovely time you've had these last two days. Eaten us out of house and home, he has-tomorrow you and Matilda will have to go shopping for me. You can get the bus into Dartmouth.'
She bustled the child upstairs, which gave Matilda a few minutes in which to pull her disordered thoughts together and regret very bitterly that she had returned Mr Scott-Thurlow's kiss. It had been heaven, of course. but now she went scarlet with shame at allowing him to find out her feelings for him, for she had certainly made no secret of them. She frowned; his kisses had been rather more than friendly...
There was a letter from Esme in the morning, full of family news and bits of gossip about the village. One of the maids at the manor-house was going steady with the milkman's son, Lady Fox had a new and quite awful hat, Sir Benjamin had fluffed his lines reading the lesson on Sunday and Nelson the cat had caught a rat at the bottom of the garden. `And I must tell you,' wrote Esme in her impetuous scrawl, `who do you suppose came to see Mother the other day? That Rhoda woman who's going to marry our nice Mr Scott-Thurlow; she'd been to see Roseanne, who's almost well-and called in on her way back to London. Said what a lovely time she and he were having-parties and so on-I didn't believe half of it. Said what a pity it was that Roseanne wouldn't be able to be one of the bridesmaids since she and Mr Scott-Thurlow are getting married very shortly. I hate her.'
So do I, thought Matilda bitterly. His kisses hadn't meant anything, just a last fling before he married. She hoped that she would never see him again. She looked at the letter once more. Esme wrote that Rhoda had actually said that she would send Matilda an invitation to the wedding because she had been so kind and capable.
`Pah !' said Matilda with such force that Emma and Lucy both looked at her with astonishment.
The days, empty of Mr Scott-Thurlow's presence, went slowly by. They did the same things, went for the same walks, played the same games and spent a good deal of time messing about on the beach and in the water. Matilda made no mention
of him and was outwardly cheerful as usual but Lucy observed a dozen times a day that she wanted him back.
`You're a very nice person,' she explained to Matilda, `and so is Emma, but it's not quite the same.' Tears weren't far off. `And it's almost time for me to go back to Miss Tremble's.'
`It's also almost time for your mummy and daddy to come home, love, only another week or two...'
There was no word from Mr Scott-Thurlow, not until their very last day when he phoned to say that they could expect him for lunch on the following day and they were to be ready to leave in the early afternoon. So Matilda packed their things and took Lucy down to the beach for their last morning bathe and, while they were gone, Emma, listening to Mr Scott-Thurlow's voice on the phone once again, chuckled comfortably at what he had to say.
The next day-the last, thought Matilda gloomily, alternately thrilled at the thought of seeing him again and still smarting from Esme's letter-they went down to the beach just once more. She had laid their clothes ready for travelling and left enough room to stuff their cotton dresses in at the last minute; she hadn't bothered about make-up either, or her hair, which she had tied back with a handy piece of string from the kitchen.
They were building a sand-castle to end all sandcastles when they heard the dogs-Canada's gruff unhurried bark and Theobald's excited yap. Coming towards them were three people: Mr Scott-Thurlow and a man and a woman.
Lucy flung down her spade. 'Mummy! Daddy!' she bawled, and tore to meet them.
CHAPTER NINE
MATILDA stood still and watched Mr Scott-Thurlow and the dogs coming towards her; he wasn't hurrying, which gave her time to get over the rapture of seeing him and stoke up her indignation at his behaviour, so that when he reached her she returned his cheerful greeting in a witheringly chilly, calm voice which sent his eyebrows up.
`Surprised you? Matt and Jean got back yesterday, several weeks earlier than they had expected. They'll stay here and keep Lucy with them-Matt has already spoken to Miss Tremble-and they'll take her with them when they go to Berkshire. You're ready to leave? Good. I'll take you back with me and drop you off at Abner Magna-I have to be back in town this evening.'
He didn't wait for her reply, which was just as well. `Come and meet Jean and Matt...' He stood towering over her, smiling, looking, she reflected, a bit smug. `I like the string,' he told her.
She gave him a haughty look. `We weren't expecting you-we came down here for a last hour or two and naturally we couldn't wear the clothes we shall travel in.'
'Lucy won't be travelling. Anyway, I like that chemise thing you're wearing.'
She got rather pink; the white cotton dress she was wearing was sleeveless and with a scooped-out low neckline-a well-worn garment she had kept for messing around with Lucy, but before she could answer him he was introducing her to Lucy's parents and presently the whole party made their way back to the cottage. Once there, he made no attempt to engag° her in conversation but wandered off into the garden, leaving her to gossip gently with Jean while Lucy sat between them bubbling over with happiness.
`We are so grateful to you,' said Jean. `James says you're marvellous with children, animals and sudden mishaps-you've certainly been a fairy godmother to Lucy. He didn't tell us how pretty you are. No, not pretty-beautiful, and I love your hair.'
'I'm not very tidy, I'm afraid. I'd better go and change; I expect Mr Scott-Thurlow will want to leave directly after lunch and I mustn't keep him waiting. He's giving me a lift home.'
Jean gave her a nice smile. She was tempted to tell this delightful creature in her simple clothes just what James had said about her, but that would never do; besides, they had a long drive before them, ample time for them to talk. `I'll unpack Lucy's clothes, shall I? I've brought one or two things with me.' She dropped a kiss on her daughter's head. `Would you like to see them now, darling?'
So the three of them went upstairs and Matilda had a shower and got into the flower-patterned two-piece, stuck her stockinged feet into neat shoes, did her face and brushed her hair into its severe French pleat. Surveying her reflection, she thought that she hadn't looked like that for more than two weeks.
Mr Scott-Thurlow had meant what he said when he had told her that they would leave immediately after lunch. He stowed her case in the boot, whistled to the dogs, bade everyone a brisk goodbye and then waited with no sign of impatience while Matilda said her own farewells. Prolonged hugs from Lucy and promises to meet again, reiterated thanks from her mother and father and a rather tearful one from Emma, who pressed a dozen brown eggs and a pot of cream on her with the fervent hope that Matilda would come and see her again. A rare pity, she thought as she watched the beautiful Matilda get into the car, that her Mr James hadn't chosen to marry her instead of the haughty creature who, on her one visit, had ignored her completely.
They all waved at the departing car and Emma said, `Ah, well, it's a nice long drive.'
Jean smillngly agreed; she had only met Rhoda once and she hadn't liked her either. She had no doubt that she and Emma were thinking the same thing.
It was Lucy who put their thoughts into words.
`It would be nice if Matilda and Uncle James got married,' she said.
If they had been in the car they would have had their doubts. Matilda, sustaining a polite flow of small talk in a frosty voice and encouraged to do so by an amused James, was as unapproachable as a bed of stinging nettles. Presently he said, `We have a long drive ahead of us-could you stop being so polite with your chit-chat and be you?'
She wouldn't look at him. `I'm sure I don't know what you mean.'
`No? Ah, well-all in good time. Let us continue with our small talk. Did you know that Roseanne is getting married in September? The wedding is to be a very grand affair.'
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if his own wedding would be grand too; she couldn't imagine it to be otherwise with Rhoda as the bride. She checked the question just in time and was rewarded by his, `A wedding should be a family affair with only close friends, do you not agree?"
'Well, yes. Everyone else only comes out of curiosity.'
The car ate up the miles in a well-bred fashion and he kept the talk undemanding, lapsing into long silences which strangely enough left her perfectly at ease with him. They also gave her a chance to think, and her thoughts were sad. This was probably the last time she would be with him; their paths were unlikely to meet in the future, and a good thing too for it was hard to maintain her chilly politeness.
They were nearing Montacute on the A303 and not far from Abner Magna now when he turned off into a side-road.
`You've gone off the road,' said Matilda unnecessarily.
`We are having tea at Grandmother's.' He glanced at his watch. `It's barely four o'clock just right. We're expected.'
`But Mother is expecting '
`Around half-past five or six o'clock.'
Mackrell Cantelo basked in the afternoon sun and the village was quiet as he swept through it and turned in at the stone pillars. As they stopped before the house Slocombe came through the door to meet them.
`A pleasure to see you, Mr James and Miss ffinch. Your grandparents are in the conservatory-I'll bring tea there in a few minutes. Perhaps you would like to freshen up, miss?'
Matilda smoothed her hair, applied more lipstick and tidied her already tidy person and then went back into the hall. Was she supposed to find her way to the conservatory on her own? she wondered. Apparently not; Mr Scott-Thurlow was sitting on the stairs waiting for her. She might have known that he would be; he was so thoughtful of other people. She hoped that Rhoda appreciated that.
His grandparents were sitting in peacock chairs overshadowed by palms, ferns and clinging greenery. The doors to the terrace were open but even then it was warm. The dogs made a beeline for the lawn outside and she envied them as she greeted her hostess and, obedient to Mrs Scott-Thurlow's request, sat down beside her.
`It is delightful to see you again, my dear,' said the ol
d lady. `Now you must tell me about your stay at Stoke Fleming. Such a dear little cottage, is it not?'
The talk was general and pleasant over tea and presently the old lady said, `Why don't you two young people have ten minutes in the garden and take a little stroll before you go? My roses are glorious and you really must see them.'
Matilda was surprised when Mr Scott-Thurlow got up. `A splendid idea-come along, Matilda.'
Her inclination was to refuse, but with the old lady's kindly eyes fixed upon her that would have been impossible. Crossing the lawn with him, the dogs wreathing around them, she said with some asperity, `I thought you were in a hurry?"
'Oh, I am, but I have found that there is always time for something one wishes to do.'
`Oh, yes, the roses.' They had reached the end of the large garden where the rose-beds made a splash of lovely colours, the beds separated by closely cut turf paths.