An Old-Fashioned Girl

by Betty Neels

  Unlike her, he showed no surprise, but took her case in one hand and her arm in the other and marched her out to the Bentley.

  ‘Just a minute,’ said Patience, subduing delight at the sight of him, ‘I am on my way home—there is no need…’

  ‘Get in,’ said Mr van der Beek, in a no-nonsense voice. ‘I intended to go over to fetch you but I had an emergency operation—Rinus told me which plane you would be on. I’ll drive you up to Themelswick.’

  She had got in; she had no choice—a gentle push from behind had seen to that—but she still protested. ‘I am expected home about teatime—there is no need…’

  He got in beside her. ‘You said that just now; besides, I want to go there myself and make a few arrangements with Miss Murch. Fasten your seatbelt, Patience.’

  She did as she was told, feeling that the situation was a little out of hand, but it was important not to argue at the moment; he was already out of the airport, making for the M25. She sat quietly, fuming and at the same time bemused with the happiness of seeing him again.

  As he turned off the motorway at St Albans in the direction of Ware and the A10 he spoke for the first time, breaking a lengthy silence. ‘We’ll talk over lunch.’

  It was more than half an hour later when he had turned off the A10 in an easterly direction and joined the A11. North of Newmarket he took a side-road and stopped the car in Mildenhall. The Bell was an old coaching inn, cosy and quiet. They ate roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and simply delicious crisp roast potatoes and followed these with treacle pudding as light as air. They drank a bottle of Perrier water between them and finished with a pot of coffee. Patience, who had been seething with curiosity and annoyance at his arbitrary behaviour, sensibly subdued these feelings and enjoyed her meal. It was only as they went back to the car that she remembered he had said that he would explain while they ate, but she was aware that he hadn’t; he had talked about everything under the sun but ignored the situation. In the car she said sharply, ‘You were going to explain…’

  ‘Have I not done so?’ he wanted to know mildly. ‘Besides the things I want to talk about are best not discussed while I’m driving; for one thing I want to see your face…’

  She turned her head and studied his profile; he was staring ahead and he looked stern. There was no point in annoying him—at any rate at the speed they were driving they would be in Themelswick in rather more than an hour. She sat quietly, watching the countryside, and unbidden thoughts of Mevrouw van Teule roared round her head. Her delight at being with Julius faded; of course he hadn’t come to Heathrow specially to drive her back—had he not said that he had had to go there himself? She supposed that Rinus had told him which flight she would be on and he had decided that he might as well give her a lift. He was a kind man despite his aloofness.

  She smiled involuntarily as he stopped the car before the house. It looked the same although she was quick to see that someone had done a good deal of work on the flowerbeds and the lawn was close cut.

  Mr van der Beek got out and opened her door. ‘Go in and see your aunts,’ he said. ‘I’ll join you presently.’

  He turned away to get her case from the boot and she went in through the half-open door to meet Miss Murch advancing down the hall.

  ‘Good afternoon, Patience,’ said the housekeeper graciously. ‘How well you look. Your aunts are in the drawing-room. I’ll bring tea in a few minutes. Is Mr van der Beek outside still?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Murch. I hope you are well?’

  ‘Thank you, yes, and delighted at the prospect of returning to Chiswick at last.’

  Well, at least one person is delighted and going to be happy, thought Patience, and opened the drawing-room door.

  The aunts were pleased to see her. ‘My dear Patience,’ observed Aunt Bessy, ‘how very well you are looking—plumper too. I have always considered that you would be improved with a nicely rounded bosom…’ She looked over Patience’s shoulder. ‘Ah, Mr van der Beek, how delightful to see you again.’

  Patience bent over Aunt Polly. Had he heard Aunt Bessy’s rather penetrating voice making remarks about her bosom? She did hope not.

  Nothing in his manner betrayed the fact that he had.

  ‘You are staying for a few days?’ enquired Aunt Bessy. ‘We shall be delighted if you do.’ She turned to Patience. ‘Pour the tea, will you, my dear? I’m sure Mr van der Beek would enjoy a cup.’

  He sat down between the two old ladies and listened to Patience answering their questions. Had she been to many parties? Was there a good theatre in den Haag? Whom had she met?

  She answered them as carefully, never once mentioning the fact that she had been a temporary nanny, something they had quite forgotten. Presently Aunt Polly asked again, ‘You will stay, Mr van der Beek.’

  ‘I’m afraid not. I have to return at once—I’m going over to Holland tonight.’

  Patience put her cup down very quietly. ‘For always?’ she asked.

  ‘No, just a quick visit—a personal matter.’

  Recklessness took hold of her tongue. ‘Of course—I met Mevrouw van Teule in den Haag, we had coffee together, and she told me that you would be going back as soon as you could. It must be very difficult for you both being apart. How fortunate that the journey is so short. It’s a great pity that she dislikes London though, but of course if you are going to live in Holland that won’t matter, will it?’

  He was looking at her thoughtfully, his eyes gleaming with amusement. ‘No, it won’t matter in the slightest.’ He got up. ‘I must be off.’ He bade the old ladies goodbye and turned to Patience. ‘Come to the door with me, Patience?’ When they were alone he said, ‘I have no time to untangle the muddle you are in, but I’ll be back.’

  ‘There’s no need.’ She spoke fiercely; having burned her boats she couldn’t care less what happened now. ‘There is no need for us ever to see each other again.’

  He stood over her, staring down into her face, and she returned his look steadily although her hands were tightly clasped. He laughed, then went out to his car and got in and drove away, and she shut the door slowly. Shutting him out of her life.

  CHAPTER NINE

  PATIENCE WENT BACK to the drawing-room and poured more tea for her aunts.

  ‘A charming man,’ declared Aunt Bessy. ‘Such a pity he could not stay! Doubtless he leads a very busy life. Did I hear you say that he was going back to Holland this evening? An urgent matter, no doubt.’

  ‘Very urgent,’ said Patience, with such a snap that both ladies looked at her.

  ‘You must be tired, dear,’ said Aunt Polly kindly. ‘Such a long journey. How strange to think that you were in Holland only this morning.’

  Presently Patience went in search of Miss Murch to thank her for her tea and tell her that she was going down to the village. ‘I must get the house ready for my aunts; it’s been closed for several weeks and I’ll need to air it as well as making up the beds.’

  Miss Murch, at the kitchen table picking over some gooseberries, wouldn’t hear of it. ‘There’s a room for you here all ready—go down there in the morning if you must, but tonight you’ll sleep in comfort here and have a good wholesome supper before you go to bed. Besides, what will your aunts think, the poor ladies, if you go off again just as soon as you’ve got here?’

  So Patience unpacked what she needed for the night and went back to the drawing-room to listen to her aunts’ recounting of the events which had taken place in the village since she had gone away. It took up the whole of the evening until they had had their supper and she had seen them safely into their beds; only then did she have the leisure to think her own thoughts, and they were so sad that she went to bed herself after helping Miss Murch with the washing-up. She was tired. It had indeed been a long day, culminating in her outburst about Mevrouw van Teule. She should have bitten her
tongue before she had uttered one word about the woman and now not only was she not going to see Julius again, they had parted on bad terms. Tired though she was, it took her a long time to get to sleep. She woke in the night and allowed herself the luxury of a good cry before dropping off again.

  She had breakfasted, settled her aunts in the drawing-room, helped with the dishes and was about to leave the house when Mr Bennett, driving a car as old as himself, arrived.

  ‘Ah, my dear Patience. You are just going out? I must ask you to wait for a while for I have something to say to you. Good news, I am glad to say.’

  She led the way indoors. ‘Would you like to talk to the aunts?’ she asked. ‘I was just on my way to the house to get it ready for them…’

  He stood in the hall while she took his hat and coat. ‘No need, my dear. Not for the moment at least. The house has been bought subject to its becoming vacant when Mr van der Beek’s lease expires, and he has expressed the wish that until then your aunts should remain here.’

  ‘That’s several weeks…’

  ‘Indeed it is.’

  She sat him down in a chair. ‘Who is the new owner? And does he agree?’

  ‘Yes, yes. He will, in fact, be contacting you very shortly; in the meantime Mr van der Beek does not wish the house to be empty. His request that you should remain until the house changes hands seems to me to be a reasonable one.’

  ‘What about Miss Murch—his housekeeper?’

  ‘She is to return to his London home. He has asked me if Mrs Dodge would consider taking up residence here for the time being.’

  ‘What about the house in the village? It’ll be empty.’

  ‘For the moment, yes. I should mention that this house has been sold for a comfortable figure; the capital, wisely invested, will mean that your aunts can live in more comfort.’ He added gently, ‘That is, I think, an important aspect of the matter.’

  She felt guilty. ‘Yes, of course it is. I’m glad for them and I don’t want them worried. Thank you very much for coming, Mr Bennett. Do you suppose that I should give our landlord notice? I mean, the aunts have always disliked living there; perhaps we could afford to find something more to their liking. Would there be time before we have to leave here?’

  ‘That is difficult to say. I suggest that you leave things as they are for the moment.’

  ‘Very well. All the same, I think I’ll go down to the village each day and air the place and clean up a little, just in case we have to go there before we can find something better.’

  Mr Bennett, after due thought, agreed to this, and she urged him to go to the drawing-room and see the aunts while she fetched coffee for them all. In the kitchen she asked, ‘Did you know that this house had been sold, Miss Murch? My aunts are to stay here until the new owner moves in. Mr van der Beek has asked if they would do that.’

  Miss Murch put the coffee on the tray. ‘Yes, I knew. That Mrs Dodge is coming up here to take care of things—you’ll be able to manage between you, I’ve no doubt.’

  ‘You’re not going yet?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’ Her severe features broke into a smile.

  ‘Mr Dobbs will be glad,’ said Patience, and Miss Murch looked arch.

  ‘That’s as may be, Patience. I must say I can’t wait to get back to a civilised community and a decent butcher.’

  Patience let that pass and bore the coffee tray to the drawing-room, where she found Mr Bennett endeavouring to make the aunts understand something of their changed circumstances. They listened to him politely but interrupted from time to time to talk about something quite different so that presently Patience said, ‘Never mind, Mr Bennett, I’ll explain a bit at a time. By the time we leave here they’ll be used to the idea.’

  She saw him to the door presently. ‘You have no idea when the new owner will call?’ she asked him. ‘Won’t there be papers to sign?’

  ‘Yes, I am preparing them, but these things take a little time. When the contracts are drawn up I will bring them for your Aunt Bessy to sign. The house is in her name, is it not?’

  Patience nodded. ‘Oh, well I dare say he’ll let us know when it is he is coming.’

  Mr Bennett got into his car and started the engine in a cautious manner; he would have been happier in a pony and trap, thought Patience, watching him drive slowly away. She waved before he turned off into the road; he had looked after her aunts’ affairs for a very long time and she was fond of him.

  She spent the rest of the day helping Miss Murch to pack, listening the while to a great deal of advice as to how best to run the house. ‘I know that Mrs Dodge is coming,’ said Miss Murch with a lady-like sniff, ‘but it’s a house that needs careful house-keeping.’

  Patience, folding sensible nightgowns, murmured a nothing. Mrs Dodge, while not a cordon bleu cook and unused to a London establishment, would make an excellent housekeeper. It would be nice if the new owner kept her on. She had been widowed for some years now and life hadn’t been easy; her shabby little house was in an even worse state than the one Patience and her aunts lived in. She would mention it, if and when the man came. She had forgotten to ask if he was a family man. More than likely; the house was large for one person to live in. True, Mr van der Beek had lived alone save for Miss Murch and her helpers and herself, but then he had been writing a learned book which required special solitude… She started to move Miss Murch’s sombre dresses from the wardrobe, reminding herself that she really must stop thinking about him. Had she not shut the door on him? So why couldn’t she shut her mind on him too?

  The next morning she went down to the village. The little house looked shabbier than ever and when she went in it felt damp and cold and airless. She walked through the poky rooms, deciding what needed to be done before going back to say goodbye to Miss Murch.

  ‘Please remember me to Dobbs,’ said Patience as they shook hands. ‘He was very kind to me when I was at Chiswick.’ She saw the housekeeper off, standing outside the house and waving until the taxi was out of sight.

  Mrs Dodge wasn’t coming until the following day. Patience got the tea, saw her aunts comfortably settled with their books and knitting and repaired to the kitchen to cook the supper. It was nice being back in her old home but she felt uneasy; the sooner she knew just how long they were to stay there, the better she would be pleased.

  Mrs Dodge arrived the next morning. She knew very little more than Patience but she was delighted to have a job, even if only for a short time. The money, she confided to Patience, was good, enough for her to put some by. They spent some time working out the household budget and, armed with a long list of groceries and the promise to bring them back with her when she returned from the village later that day, Patience, in a dress which had seen better days but was very neat all the same, went off to the little house in the village.

  She was glad to have something to do; it kept her mind off her sad thoughts. She opened windows, washed curtains and hoovered and polished, determined to make the little house as much like home as possible.

  She had brought sandwiches with her and there was tea in the tea caddy; she had a whisk round and a quick lunch, did her shopping and tackled the contents of the linen cupboard before going back to spend the evening with her aunts and presently tumble thankfully into bed.

  It was a splendid opportunity to turn the little house inside out and upside down; her aunts were quite content to remain with Mrs Dodge to see to their needs, and the weather was fine, too, so that anything she could haul out into the tiny back garden could get a good airing. By the end of a week there wasn’t much left to do. There was still no news from the new owner; she couldn’t stock the larder or make up the beds but there was one job she could tackle. Above the tiny landing there was access to the loft where her aunts’ heavy old trunks had been housed when they had moved. They contained various personal treasures of the old
ladies which had been deemed unsuitable or unnecessary for use in the little house, but Aunt Bessy had expressed a strong wish to have a number of old-fashioned photo albums at her disposal. Patience remembered them as being plush or leather covered, very heavy and containing photos of distant relations, long dead. For some reason Aunt Bessy had set her heart on examining them again and now seemed the right time to see if she could find them.

  It had been a bright morning when she had set out for the village but as she dragged the old-fashioned wooden steps up the stairs she noticed how very dark it was growing. There was no light on the landing and none in the loft; she went back to the kitchen and found a candlestick and a box of matches. There was a distant rumble of thunder as she went upstairs and she cocked an uneasy ear, hoping that the next one would be even more distant. It wasn’t; it was a good deal nearer and she lighted her candle with a hand which wasn’t quite steady. She was a sensible girl, not easily frightened, but thunderstorms scared her.

  She could, of course, go swiftly downstairs again and sit in the comparative comfort of the small sitting-room, but it had been an effort to haul the clumsy steps up to the landing, and, besides, once the aunts were back, it would be harder, for they would be full of good advice and offers of help. Aunt Bessy, despite her age, was quite capable of climbing the steps if she had a mind to. Patience arranged the steps just so and with the candle in one hand pushed the cover away from the square opening to the loft.

  It was surprisingly roomy up there; it was also pitch dark. A previous owner had boarded up the floor and being on the small side she had no difficulty in standing upright. The trunks, several old-fashioned leather hat boxes and a bundle of umbrellas and walking sticks almost took up all of the space. She put the candle down carefully on one of the hat boxes and turned her attention to the trunks, swallowing a small scream at a clap of thunder, far too near for her liking.

  The trunks weren’t locked; she unfastened the first one and heaved back its weighty lid. It had been packed neatly; she turned over several elaborate cloaks and dresses all wrapped in tissue paper and found shoes underneath, old-fashioned slippers with buckles and Louis heels, and a quantity of yellowed notepaper, a parcel of fans and a box of assorted buttons. There was no trace of the photo albums. The next roll of thunder, almost overhead now, caused her to drop the lid with something of a thud before she opened a second trunk.