by Betty Neels
Jemima paused in her packing. `I I was surprised.'
`And yet I had the strong impression that you were expecting me...' His voice was silky.
Jemima, folding tentlike nighties, didn't look at him. `What rubbish!' she said crossly. `Why on earth should I expect you of all people?"
'Why indeed? I was hoping you could-or would-tell me.'
`Well, I can't. How are you going to get Pooley to the helicopter?"
'Now that's a question I'm still pondering. But whatever we decide it must be soon. It's roughly fifty miles-no, less by air, say half an hour, taking into account loading and offloading and so forth-I'll return for my aunt and then come back for you. By then it will be growing dark. You're not afraid? It may be a little awkward.'
`Not in the least,' declared Jemima robustly, her insides quite jellied at the idea. `It will be nice to have a hot bath and a proper meal.' She started on a pile of woollies. `I do hope Lady Manderly will be all right, she's got a shocking cold. She's been wonderful, you know.'
The Professor said thoughtfully: `No one has ever called her that before!' He got off the bed. `May I have one of those scarves?' and when she handed it to him: 'I'm going to take the first of the luggage to the helicopter; I'll be back for Pooley in a short time.' He lounged over to the window. `It's not snowing at the moment, I'd best be on my way.'
He wandered back to her, bent and kissed her hard and swiftly and went away.
Jemima finished packing Lady Manderly's things, not allowing herself to think about him at all, and went back downstairs to the kitchen presently.
Lady Manderly was sitting exactly as she had left her, but Pooley had got to her feet and was peering fearfully out of the window. She looked round as Jemima went in. `I'll never be able to get there,' she moaned unhappily. `All that snow, I'm sure to fall over ...I don't want to go..."
'You'll do as the Professor tells you,' observed Lady Manderly hoarsely.
'You'll be perfectly safe,' Jemima told her bracingly. `The Professor wouldn't attempt it if he wasn't quite sure he'd succeed.' She had joined Pooley at the window. `Look, here he is coming back; it can't be far, and the snow's very hard.' She started wrapping Pooley's coat round her and buttoning it. `You've got one good arm,' she pointed out, `and think how lovely it will be to sleep in a bed tonight and have someone to look after you.'
`You've been doing that,' said Pooley. `I don't know what we'd have done without you, miss.'
Professor Cator's cheerful voice interrupted her. `Ready?' he enquired, and waited patiently while Jemima wound a scarf round Pooley's head and tied it firmly. There was only one pair of wellingtons, and, she had thrust Pooley's reluctant feet into them. `And for heaven's sake bring them back with you,' she begged the Professor, `so we can use them later.'
She watched them go, the Professor once more on his skis, an arm round Pooley's waist, hauling her along beside him. When they had gone round a great drift by the garage, she turned away from the window.
`What about lunch?' asked Lady Manderly.
Jemima stopped dead in her tracks. 'Lunch-oh, my goodness, the poor man's had nothing to eat-only that tea and bread and butter, and he looked so tired.'
'He'll snatch a sandwich before he comes back for me,' said her companion comfortably. `He's always been able to look after himself. What is there left to eat, Jemima?'
Jemima went to the cupboard and surveyed its contents. `Caviare, a tin of pate and the oatmeal. Shall it be porridge?'
`Since there's nothing else, but you may open the caviare, Jemima, I'll have that first. You don't suppose there are any biscuits?"
'No, Lady Manderly, but we can have a cup of tea.'
She set about cooking the porridge and boiling the kettle, and presently they ate their meal while Lady Manderly discoursed in a gruff voice on the delights of caviare, when and where she had eaten it and in whose company. Jemima listened with half an ear and an eye on the clock, her thoughts almost entirely of Alexander.
`You're not listening,' declared Lady Manderly. `You needn't worry about Alexander. He is, as I've already said, perfectly capable of looking after himself.' Jemima didn't answer and her companion went on: `You're not a pretty girl, but given the right clothes and a good hairdresser you would do well enough; you have a certain air about you. It's time that Alexander settled down.'
Her cold was making her feverish, thought Jemima. The quicker she was got into a warm bed and properly fed, the better. She cleared away the dishes and left the kettle singing on the Aga. Alexander would want tea when he got back. And I must stop thinking of him as Alexander, she told herself sharply.
He arrived almost silently, his coming muffled by the sound of the wind. Jemima caught sight of him coming round the garage and opened the door.
`My God, it's cold,' he said. `Any tea?' He smiled at her. `Will you help my aunt to get into her things? I'll have that tea and then get the rest of her cases on board and come back for her. Pooley's safe and sound in hospital; they're going to set that arm and put it into plaster, and she'll be able to join you at the hotel some time tomorrow.'
He swallowed the tea and went upstairs for the cases and Jemima urged Lady Manderly into a variety of woollies, her mink coat, and the boots, tied a scarf securely round her head and sat her down to drink some of the tea while the Professor, the cases tied on to his back and Coco under one arm, set off once more.
He was back very shortly. `I'll be as quick as I can,' he told Jemima. `Pack the rest of your things and then come down here and stay by the stove.' He glanced at the clock. `Don't put any more coal on to it, and rake it out as well as you can when it gets low.' His eyes searched her quiet face. `What a splendid girl you are!' This time he didn't kiss her. She watched him toiling through the snow, his aunt, her not inconsiderable weight supported by his arm, contriving to look regal even in wellington boots.
She went upstairs presently and finished packing her own things, then brought the case down to the kitchen. The house was quiet so that the wind sounded more eerily than before. Lady Manderly had taken her radio with her and there was nothing to break the silence. Jemima poked up the Aga and made more tea and watched the clock's hands creep at a snail's pace round its face. She lighted the lamp soon; it wasn't dark, but it seemed more cheerful, and presently she lighted the candles too, rather recklessly. Suppose Alexander couldn't get back? He had told her to let the stove out and the kitchen was already getting chilly. She got up and walked around, stopping to look out of the window-a silly thing to do, because she knew quite well that there was no chance of his return for another hour at least. Lady Manderly would demand his full attention until she was settled in at the hotel, and that might be miles away from the airstrip.
She found an old cookery book presently and sat down at the table close to the lamp and passed the time choosing various menus. `French onion soup,' she said aloud, `and then grilled sole and boeuf en croute and a souffle harlequin with lashings of cream.' She gave a great sigh. `If only someone would ask me out to dinner that's what I'd choose.'
She got up and began to walk about again. The Aga was very low now and the room was cold. She put on another sweater and looked at the clock. Alexander should have arrived by now. A pang of pure panic shot through her; he'd run out of fuel, he'd had an accident, he was dead...
He opened the door and walked in, and only by a superhuman effort did Jemima manage not to burst into tears.
`Ready?' he asked, just as though he'd been gone for a couple of minutes instead of the best part of two hours, and when she nodded, went over to the Aga, raked it out, blew out the candles and the lamp and picked up her case. `Let's go, then.'
He sounded so abrupt and impatient that she didn't speak, only followed him wordlessly outside. He must be very tired by now, she knew, and the least she could do was not to waste a second of his time. He tied the case on his back and caught her by the arm, slipped on his skis, and set off. It wasn't as difficult as she had expected. The boots were too bi
g, of course and she floundered a bit, determined to keep up with him. Once or twice she went into deep snow and he hauled her out, the snow melting down her cold legs inside the boots, so that her feet became numb. She began to think that they had lost the helicopter, and then suddenly there it was, only yards away.
Even if she hadn't loved him she would have admired him for ever for the neat speed in which he got her case, the skis and themselves on board. The helicopter seemed very small; she hoped nervously that it would stay up in the air as they rose from the ground and she closed her eyes.
`Perfectly safe,' said the Professor's calm voice. `I've been flying for some years.' The faint mockery in his voice made her open her eyes at once.
'I'm not in the least nervous,' she assured him coldly, and then as he swung round in a half circle, shut them again.
It was very nearly dark by now, but the snow threw an uncanny light over the countryside. Jemima took a look from time to time and decided that she didn't much like it; she had never been so thankful to see the airport's lights.
It was like being a child again. She was lifted out of the helicopter, told to do this, that and the other thing and obeyed without question. The whole process was vague until she found herself in the foyer of the hotel with the Professor beside her.
He took her arm and went over to the reception desk where he was given a key which he put into her hand. `Go up to your room and-er-tidy yourself. We'll have dinner in half an hour. And don't go to sleep!'
`What about Lady Manderly? I must...'
'I'll go and see her now. You shall go and say good night to her after we've had dinner. She will have hers in her room.'
Jemima was too weary to argue-besides, she was well aware that it would be of no use.
She followed the bellboy into the lift without another word.
Her room was warm and comfortable and the bed was inviting. She tore her eyes from it and undressed, had a shower and took her things out of her case, regretting that she had nothing spectacular to wear. Another skirt and a blouse with a thin sweater over it was the best she could manage. Her hair needed a wash, but there wasn't time. With a couple of minutes in hand she made her way down to the foyer.
The Professor was waiting for her. He took her into the bar and sat her down. `What we both need is a drink,' he said pleasantly, `and then a meal.' He smiled at her. `How nice you look,' he observed. `Although I must say you looked pretty good this morning.'
She blushed, because of course he was teasing her, and accepted the sherry he offered her. `I won't ask if you'd like brandy,' he went on. `All three of you must have drunk deep of that!'
He was teasing. She smiled and sipped her sherry, feeling lightheaded. She was going to have dinner with him, for the first-and almost for certain the last time too. The prospect rendered her silent, so that her share of the conversation was an occasional yes or no.
But over dinner she found her tongue again. She was going to enjoy her evening, since she wasn't likely to have another one like it. When he asked her what she would like to eat she said instantly: `Oh, French onion soup, grilled sole and boeuf en crote,' and then seeing his amused look: `Oh no, I'm sorry, that's what I chose while I was waiting for you. There was an old cookery book and I picked out what I would most like ... it was just something to do.'
`A sound choice.' He beckoned the waiter and held a low-voiced conversation with him. When the man had gone he said: `They can't manage the beef, it would take too long, but I'm told the spare ribs are excellent. Will you try those instead?"
'Oh, I didn't mean ... there was no need to go to all that trouble ... it was only...'
`My dear girl, after the days you've just been through, if you'd asked for the moon, I would have done my best to get it for you.' He sat back in his chair, looking at her. `Such a small mouse of a girl facing up to a situation which would have daunted anyone twice your size. I can imagine my aunt was hardly the easiest of companions, and Pooley may be splendid with the mending and ironing, but I don't fancy she could stand up to an emergency.' He broke off as they were served their soup. `Thank God for food,' he commented.
`When did you last have a meal?' asked Jemima, all her motherly instincts aroused.
'Breakfast-very early this morning.'
`What happened to...' She broke off and bit her lip. `Of course, you were at the lodge by then, and I didn't give you anything to eat. I'm truly sorry. I could have made you a bowl of porridge...'
`I never eat porridge.' He sounded aloof, but the sherry on her empty insides had made her slightly reckless. She waited until their plates had been removed and replaced by the sole. `Did Gloria mind you coming?' she asked, and sipped the white wine in her glass.
`I hardly had time to tell her,' he told her carelessly. `Have you received the replies to your advertisement?' he added, `I got my secretary to see to it.'
She had gone a little pale at the snub, but it had been her own fault after all. `Yes, thank you,' she tried to match her voice with his. `There were three of them.'
`Any good?'
She busied herself with the sole so that she wouldn't have to look at him. `Oh, yes, they're all three rather nice, I think, I'm not sure which to choose. I've written to them all and I'll see which I like the best.'
`In London?'
Jemima thought rapidly; if she said no he might smell a rat. `One is-one is somewhere in Hampstead, of the others, the one I like best is somewhere in the Midlands. I can never quite remember the places there.'
The Professor was watching her intently. He said coolly: `It might be a pleasant change for you. My aunt will, of course, give you a splendid reference.'
`How kind,' said Jemima forlornly.
Her glass was whisked away and she was given red wine with the beef. She sipped it appreciatively. `Claret?' she essayed.
`Indeed yes. Will your duties be the same as those at my aunt's house?"
'I think very similar.'
`Another old lady?'
She frowned down at her plate. How persistent he was!
`An elderly couple living in an annexe of their daughter's house.' She started to improvise. `I shall drive the car for them and that sort of thing.'
The Professor hid a smile. `It only remains for me to wish you every success. Although I can't think why I should have made such a mistake-I was under the impression that you were going to train for something...'
Jemima choked over a morsel of potato. `Oh, but I am going to, but-but one has to put one's name down some months ahead.' She hunted feverishly for some career she might follow and could think of none on the spur of the moment, and the Professor, watching her telltale face, took pity on her.
`Of course, I hadn't thought of that. Now what would you like for dessert?'
`An ice cream with chocolate sauce and nuts, please.'
He ordered it gravely, chose the cheese board for himself and began to talk about nothing in particular. They had their coffee at the table and presently he suggested that she might like to go to bed. `I'll be leaving in the morning-will you have breakfast with me? Is eight o'clock too early for you?'
'No-no, not a bit. Must you go in the morning?'
`Yes, I have some afternoon appointments and an evening engagement.' With Gloria, thought Jemima, then thanked him nicely for the dinner and wished him goodnight.
She went to Lady Manderly's room first. That lady, having dined well, was sitting in her bed reading. She put down her book as Jemima knocked and observed: `There you are. I hope Alexander looked after you?"
'Yes, thank you, Lady Manderly. Can I do anything for you?"
'No, I think not. I shall stay in bed tomorrow and throw off this cold. You'll have to go to the hospital and see how Pooley is and arrange for her to come here as soon as possible.' She nodded dismissal. `Come and see me at nine o'clock tomorrow morning, Jemima.'
Jemima went to her room. She was very sleepy, but she made herself wash her hair and then lay in the bath, dreaming. Such a waste o
f time, she told herself crossly, falling into bed and almost instantly asleep.
At least her hair was clean, she decided, looking at her still tired face in the morning.
She slapped on some make-up, brushed her hair until it gleamed, took a look out of the window at the dark morning outside, and went down to the dining-room.
The Professor was already there. His good morning was cheerfully impersonal, as were his queries as to whether she had slept well and how she felt. She had barely reached the toast and marmalade of a substantial meal when he excused himself. `I didn't go and see my aunt last night,' he explained. `I must say goodbye to her now.'
Somehow it wasn't what she had expected. After a moment she said: `Oh, yes, of course. Well, goodbye, Professor Cator, and thank you for all you've done. It must have been most inconvenient.'