The Dutch Uncle

by Margery Hilton

  ‘That was the centrepiece of a fruit display,’ Dennis remarked. ‘I’d quite a job persuading the girl to take it out of the basket.’ He grinned, and launched into an unkind imitation of the adenoidal shop assistant who’d served him.

  Isolated from their laughter, Nicholas stood back, then went unnoticed from the room.

  CHAPTER V

  Two days later Tessa had recovered.

  After tea a couple of small visitors arrived clutching a note from Mary Thomas to thank Tessa for her prompt action and to invite her to Susan’s birthday party the next day.

  Over the note Tessa met Nicholas’s amused eyes.

  ‘A swimming party?’ he enquired.

  ‘No.’ She made a face at him. ‘A very respectable gathering of five-year-olds, and I intend to enjoy every minute of it.’

  He seemed about to make a sarcastic rejoinder, and she was suddenly aware of his eyes intent on her as she stood with the children at her side.

  ‘You love children, Tessa.’ It was a statement rather than a question, and for a moment she did not reply. He went on: ‘You wouldn’t be content to be a part-time wife when you eventually marry.’

  The silence lengthened and still she could not wrench her gaze from that curiously compelling regard. Then Jackie tugged at her hand and broke the disturbing quiet.

  ‘You’d better see these infants home,’ Nicholas said in his usual cool tone. ‘Take a jacket, there’s a cool breeze.’

  Walking down to the cottage with the children, she was only half aware of their prattle. What had Nicholas meant by his rather scornful reference to a part-time wife? It had not occurred to her that he might have decided views about career wives. But surely that was old-fashioned, she thought. So many wives had to work nowadays. She wondered if that had been the cause of his broken engagement with Christine. Had they quarrelled over her desire to continue her career? Or had there been other, deeper motives? Perhaps Christine did not want children. But now it looked as if Christine had regrets. Was she changing her mind? Troubled, Tessa shook her head and paid heed to the insistent chatter of the children.

  Mary Thomas greeted her warmly and ushered her into the cosy living room. She sensed immediately the happy family atmosphere. Though the furnishings bore traces of small grubby fingers and scuffing feet the room was neat and spotlessly clean.

  ‘They’ve talked so much about you that I feel as if I’d known you for ages,’ Mary laughed as she introduced herself.

  ‘Is the Mr. Thomas who gardens at Meads—?’

  ‘Yes, he told me about you the other day.’

  Tessa explained her disappearance the day of the pool incident, and asked if Susan had suffered any ill effects.

  ‘No, only Jackie,’ Mary admitted. ‘I’m afraid I walloped him. But he’s been told so many times.’ Mary made tea while the two children romped outside and Baby Timothy slept in his cot. Tessa told Mary something of her circumstances and received Mary’s confidences in turn. The time passed pleasantly in helping her new friend to get the children ready for bed and prepare the evening meal for Jim coming in.

  The sun was low on the horizon when she left the cottage and idled along, enjoying the softness of a country twilight and the sight of twinkling lights beginning to wink from cottage windows. She leaned on a gate and watched the sun go down, planning an outline of surprises for the party. Tomorrow morning I’ll help Mary with the cooking, she decided, and in the afternoon I’ll go to Woolworths in Marchfield and buy some small presents. We could have a treasure hunt and some games with prizes.

  A shiver made her realize that the evening air had turned cold, and she retraced her footsteps to Meads. She went to the study and found Nicholas immersed in a book.

  He put it down and glanced up enquiringly.

  She perched on the footstool and looked uncertainly at him, trying to assess his mood before she said:

  ‘Nicholas, you did mean it the other day when you said you’d find some occupation for me?’

  ‘I’m afraid I hadn’t given it any thought,’ he said slowly. ‘I suppose it was a mistake to expect an energetic teenager to amuse herself for an indefinite time after an organized life at school, where every hour was mapped out. Have you been very bored, Tessa?’

  ‘Not bored,’ she assured him hastily, ‘only useless.’

  ‘Hm, you did tell me you could type?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said eagerly, ‘but not madly fast if you were thinking of dictation.’

  He smiled indulgently. ‘You’d need your not very good shorthand for that,’ he said, remembering. ‘What did they teach you at that fashionable boarding school?’

  Without giving her time to reply he went on: ‘I’ve several crates of books coming—here, not the gallery— I want to sort them first. I wonder if you could type out an inventory? I’d explain to you how I wanted it done.’

  ‘When do I start?’

  He smiled. ‘Tomorrow—provided the books arrive. But there’s one thing’—his smile faded—‘if you work for me, there must be a set time when I can call on you. No dropping a job to play with the Thomas children, or go gallivanting with Gerard. Understand?’

  ‘Yes, Nicholas. Oh, it’ll be wonderful to have a definite job to do.’ Then a thought came to her and she gave a small cry of exasperation.

  ‘Now what?’

  Her expression was rueful. ‘It’s Susan’s birthday party tomorrow. I’m helping Mary in the morning and shopping in the afternoon, and the party starts at four o’clock.’

  Nicholas lit a cigarette and picked up his book.

  ‘You see, Tessa, it won’t work. That’s why I was against the idea when you first came.’

  She was silent, biting her lip. Suddenly the idea of working with Nicholas was very attractive, and she longed to prove to him that she was serious about the matter. If only ... yet she couldn’t let the children down. It was unthinkable. She looked up.

  ‘Nicholas?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Tomorrow’s arrangements were made before the job was offered—and accepted. But if you wish it, I’ll cancel my plans for tomorrow.’

  He put the book down again and began to laugh. She looked at him indignantly and protested, ‘I mean it.’

  ‘You know perfectly well that I wouldn’t insist on anything of the kind—and then be regarded as an ogre who robbed small children of their fun.’

  ‘I’m not conceited enough to imagine that they’ll fail to enjoy themselves without me,’ she said tartly. ‘Yes or no, Nicholas?’

  Suddenly he looked bored. ‘Why prolong this feminine nonsense any longer? You know my answer as well as I do. Now leave me in peace.’

  ‘Very well, Nicholas.’

  Demurely she went away, uncertain if the small victory were hers—or his.

  The warm August days passed uneventfully. Tessa had now taken over an increasing amount of Nicholas’s paperwork and her days had begun to conform to a pattern. She accepted without demur the occasional inroads he made into her spare time when a deadline for a new catalogue came near, or an entire library from a sale found its way to Meads. It was interesting to learn some of the background work of the gallery, but most of all she rejoiced in the partial resumption of the earlier camaraderie with Nicholas that she had loved.

  One evening a week she reserved for Mary Thomas; giving her an opportunity of a night out with her husband while Tessa looked after the children.

  Towards Dennis she still held a trace of reserve. Coffee with him on Tuesday mornings became a habit, after she had made the rounds of the various stores with Florence Reyne’s shopping order, but she felt no inclination to pursue the flirtation for which he so obviously only awaited a cue from her to indulge in. Nevertheless, she enjoyed Dennis’s company when kept to a strictly platonic neutrality, little realizing that it was her elusive quality which intrigued him and kept his interest from waning.

  The High Street clock struck the hour as Tessa came out of the stationers’ after purchasing
fresh supplies of sketching materials and hurried towards the Copper Jug.

  Her expression was troubled as she went towards their usual table. That morning she had found Mary Thomas white and strained with anxiety. Jim, though likeable enough and easy-going, possessed a strong streak of stubbornness. More than once he had spoken his mind over policy appertaining to the running of the farm. Now, after a furious argument with Farmer Fairgreaves, Jim had lost his temper and had been dismissed. Unfortunately their cottage was tied to the farm, and the young couple faced the task of not only finding fresh employment but also a new home.

  So intent was Tessa on her thoughts she did not see Dennis until he stood before her and said laughingly:

  ‘Daydreaming again?’

  He dropped into the chair by her side and asked,

  ‘What’s bothering you, my sweet? You look worried.’ Suddenly glad of a confidant, she told him about Mary. He listened carefully, his face becoming serious. Then he patted her shoulder. ‘You’ve come to the right person. I may be able to help. I can’t promise anything definite until I get back to the office,’ he added hastily, seeing the rush of hope light her face. ‘But I’ll certainly see if there’s anything on our books that would do—three children, you say.’ He pursed his mouth doubtfully.

  ‘I’d be grateful if you would.’ Tessa smiled. ‘I’d forgotten that’s your business.’

  ‘Not mine,’ he corrected quickly. ‘The old man’s—I just do the running about.’ He glanced over Tessa’s shoulder, his attention diverted for a moment. Then he gave a slight smile and enquired after Nicholas.

  ‘He’s very well, thank you,’ she replied with quaint seriousness. ‘He’s at a sale today.’

  ‘That’s what you think.’ Dennis’s mouth curved down at the corners with a smile that was rather unpleasant. ‘Take a discreet look over your shoulder.’ Surprised, Tessa did so, and caught her breath in a soft sigh. At a corner table, tucked away by itself in a tiny alcove, were Nicholas and Christine.

  ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’ Dennis stood up to catch the waitress’s attention.

  ‘Why do you dislike Nicholas so much?’ Tessa asked when they were outside and strolling along towards Dennis’s office.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Bitterness sharpened his tone. ‘Everything goes his way—the lucky blighter. If he buys a picture it turns out to be an old master in disguise. Even a girl like—’ He stopped. ‘Sorry, my sweet. You’ve got to live with the monastic blighter—that must be enough without reminders from me.’ He paced on, his expression sulky.

  At last Tessa began to have an inkling of what was embittering Dennis. Could it be he was attracted to Christine? Was the root of his dislike of Nicholas plain jealousy? For Tessa had gathered by now, from small snippets pieced together, that Dennis’s parents tended to be stringent over financial matters where he was concerned. And Christine was an expensive girl, thought Tessa sagely. But surely Dennis, who seemed so worldly-wise, realized that Christine was the kind of girl who would take, but never give. She sighed. The triangle must work out its own destiny; but it wasn’t exactly comfortable to be in the position of a fourth side.

  ‘Well,’ he glanced at his watch, ‘back to the toil. I’ll ring about that other matter as soon as something crops up.’

  Tessa got off the bus at the stop near the cottage and called to tell Mary of Dennis’s promise.

  ‘It’s sweet of you to help.’ Mary hesitated. ‘I didn’t know you were friendly with young Gerard. Perhaps I shouldn’t say this, but he hasn’t got an exactly spotless reputation. Be careful, Tessa. I’m not sure that I like you being under an obligation to him on our account.’

  Tessa smiled. ‘People do gossip, you know, Mary. I think he’s a bit unhappy over something and kicks out a bit now and then. The main thing is to get you settled. Has Jim heard anything yet?’

  ‘No,’ Mary admitted. ‘But he’s seeing a farmer tonight. If he doesn’t get fixed up there he’s going to try for a factory job in Slough. He has a brother there who I dare say would put us up until we found somewhere of our own.’

  It was rather an unsettled week.

  Dennis failed to telephone, and Nicholas went north to attend an important sale, where yet another great house was to fall victim to increased taxation and the auctioneer’s hammer. However, Jim got a job, which he would commence as soon as he had worked his fortnight’s notice. The summer holidays over, Jackie had returned to school, shepherding a reluctant Susan to her first experience of the world of learning. So Tessa was unduly elated on the Saturday morning to see the jaunty green convertible screech up the drive, and Dennis running up the steps to the door.

  ‘Sorry I didn’t ring before now,’ he apologized, ‘but I wanted something definite fixed first.’ He followed her into the lounge. ‘I’ve found a place for your friends. It’s not much, really a holiday cottage, but the folks who own it are prepared to let it for six months, seeing that the season is nearly over. It’s a bit isolated, a couple of miles out on the far side of Marchfield, but they can move in at the end of the month. It’ll tide them over the crisis and give them time to look for something permanent.’

  Tessa’s face glowed, and she restrained an urge to hug Dennis. She thanked him and arranged a tentative appointment for Mary to fix up the details, then hurried to make some coffee.

  She returned in a short while with coffee and biscuits. ‘Tessa?’ Dennis said suddenly, smiling over the rim of his cup. ‘Will you come to a party with me tonight?’

  ‘A party?’ she echoed. ‘Where?’

  ‘That new place outside Marchfield—the Silver Birch. I know it’s short notice, but I’ve been let down. So I thought if you were free...’ He looked appealingly at her.

  Why not? she thought quickly, it might be fun. ‘Yes, I’d love to,’ she agreed, then added doubtfully, ‘But I’m not very clever at parties. I never know how to make small talk to strangers.’

  ‘Not to worry.’ The trite little phrase sounded reassuring. ‘You’ll find the crowd will chatter enough to make up for any leeway you leave.’

  ‘How do I get there?’

  ‘I’ll pick you up about eight, and naturally bring you home again afterwards.’

  When he had gone Tessa ran down to the cottage to tell Mary the good news. ‘I’m going to miss you and the children.’ Tessa’s expression was wistful.

  ‘You’ll have to come and visit us whenever you’re free,’ Mary said. ‘You know you’ll always be welcome.’ A postal packet of newspapers lay on the hall table when Tessa got back to Meads. They bore a New York postmark and she pounced eagerly on them.

  ‘I expect you wish you could have been there on the opening night,’ Florence remarked when the papers were spread out on the big table in the kitchen. ‘It looks as though your mother’s set for a long, successful run.’

  They turned the pages at random, seeking further photographs. ‘They’re talking about a tour here after the—’ Tessa broke off, looking at the opposite page. ‘Look, here’s Angie with—?’

  ‘Martin C. Jeyebell,’ read out Florence slowly. ‘Wonder who he is.’

  ‘Goodness knows,’ Tessa said, scanning the caption. ‘She’ll be meeting masses of people, I expect, and making a lot of new friends.’

  Florence said nothing, but a faint unease shadowed her plump features; nor did she appear approving when Dennis arrived to collect Tessa that evening, and she told him coldly to bring Tessa home at a respectable hour.

  The Silver Birch did not rely solely on local patronage to maintain its profits. Had it done so, its doors might well have closed. The country people shunned the modern trappings and gleaming decor, and continued to support the traditional old timbered inns beloved of their fathers and grandfathers before them. Bitterly they voiced their condemnation of the nightly invasion of shrill-toned pleasure seekers that shattered the peace of the countryside until the revving of engines and slamming car doors signalled their departure—until the next time.

&n
bsp; A gravel drive curved round to the main entrance at the left side of the club. Soft lilac-coloured carpet cushioned Tessa’s footsteps as she walked into the reception hall. Stifling an inner air of trepidation, she lifted her head to express an assurance she was far from feeling, and allowed Dennis, who obviously knew the layout of the place intimately, to lead the way. At the far end of the hall an arch gave way to a corridor that ran the full length of the building. Alcoves, a staircase, and pastel-tinted doors were on her right side, and to the left were wide windows overlooking terraces and lawns, now dim in the September dusk.

  Tessa was suddenly poignantly reminded of the hospital where she had visited her father after his accident. She remembered walking along a corridor similar to this one, overlooking smooth lawns and wide paths. The picture was still vivid of the terraces peopled with white-capped nurses hovering beside the spinal carriages, and the visitors sitting or strolling with convalescent patients.

  She jerked back from the painful memory as Dennis remarked thoughtfully: ‘Strange. This place isn’t usually so quiet.’

  He paused before a door, above which a small illuminated sign said The Jorum, and she noticed that other doors bore names derived from drinking containers.

  A gale of noise and warm air rushed out when he opened the door. It subsided briefly when they entered, and then laughter welled again as an auburn-haired girl wearing a very short, violently green dress gave a scream at the sight of Dennis.

  ‘He’s here! Hide those bottles—and watch your pockets, kids.’

  The red-haired girl gave another dramatic scream when Dennis grabbed a handful of her unruly locks and announced to Tessa: ‘Meet Miranda—the latest escapee from the zoo. No prizes for guessing which department,’ he grinned.

  Miranda betrayed no animosity at this outrageous introduction, beyond a pithy response to the unabashed Dennis, and Tessa noticed that despite her rather wild appearance Miranda’s gaze was direct and honest, and her smile sincere. (Perhaps she sensed Tessa’s uncertainty of herself amid strangers, for she adopted a friendly, almost protective air, and after a while Tessa’s doubts began to fade in her vivacious company.