by Betty Neels
Araminta blinked. No one had ever called her "my lovely' before; she found it delightful. "Yes, I like him," she agreed, "although, of course, I don't know him at all well. The children are very fond of him."
"Let's hope "e gets down here a bit then, and knocks some manners into the pair of them. Need to go away to school they do-well, Jimmy will he boarding next term, going to some posh place." Mrs. Pretty swallowed the rest of her tea and took herself off to clean the bathroom the children used. "It needs a fair walloping," she shouted over a massive shoulder as she left the kitchen.
Well-primed on her second visit, Araminta had a pot of tea, strong enough to knock out an elephant, ready on the kitchen table. Mrs. Pretty drank the pot dry, recommended that Araminta should get on with the ironing while she gave the drawing-room the once-over, and took herself off until it was time for elevenses.
"Coming for the weekend, is "e?" she asked, and bit into one of Araminta's cakes. "Nice little cook you be."
"I don't know; he hasn't said so-he is a very busy man."
Mrs. Pretty shrugged. "Doctors-well, he's a surgeon, isn't he? Don't hold with them meself. Old miseries, telling me that a cig's bad for me. Smoked all me life I "ave, and look at me."
Araminta hoped that she was looking at the right eye; it was difficult with the squint. "I'm sure you're awfully fit," she agreed politely, "but I don't think smoking does much good…"
Mrs. Pretty laughed; she had aloud, cheerful laugh. "Me old granny always said, "A little of what you fancy does you good", and I fancy a cig off and on. Got a young man, have you, love?"
"No. I'm not pretty," said Araminta, baldly and without self-pity.
"What's that got to do with it? Look at me, I'm no beauty." Mrs. Pretty let out another laugh. "Ad two 'usbands. Beauty's but skin-deep, ducks, and don't you forget it."
Which was all very well, reflected Araminta but it hardly weighed against a pretty face.
It was Saturday and there had been no word from Mrs. Gault or Patty. Araminta did her best to reassure Jimmy and Gloria, and wished that their uncle would at least telephone, something he hadn't done for the past two days. She had written home and warned her father that she might not be home for some days yet, but she had had no reply and she didn't want to phone because Alice would try to persuade her to return, something she didn't intend to do until she was no longer needed. It was a blessing that Gloria and Jimmy were asked out to tea in the village on Saturday; it helped the day along. She had suggested that they might like to show her something of the countryside around the village, but the idea had fallen flat and, since they so obviously didn't wish for her company, she busied herself around the house and about the garden. She hoped that they had plans of their own for Sunday, but she was too wise to ask.
It was a pity that they held her in such dislike, but she could understand that-in their eyes she wasn't much older than they were, besides being small and insignificant. Their comfortable world had been turned topsy-turvy, and they needed to take it out on somebody…
The professor hadn't phoned; she realised that she had been counting on his coming at the weekend. It would be nice to be given an idea of how much longer she was to stay at Tisbury. Not that she wasn't content; the village was delightful, its few shops surprisingly upmarket, the people friendly, but she was uneasy about Alice and her father. Since her mother's death she had automatically taken over the housekeeping, managed the finances of their day-to-day living and looked after Alice. Even when she had worked for the agency she had taken jobs which had allowed her to go home each evening.
An afternoon in the garden did much to restore her to her usual sensible self, and after supper Jimmy and Gloria went up to their rooms with their record-players and then to the sitting-room to watch television, and very much to her surprise made no demur when she went along presently and suggested that they went to bed.
She got up early the next morning; she supposed that they would go to church, and if they were to eat the shoulder of lamb for their lunch she would have to have it ready to put into the oven before they went. It was a bright morning and Tibs wandered off into the garden, following Mutt. She filled their saucers and left the door open for them to come back in and went to put on the kettle. A cup of tea would be a good start to her day…
She had laid the table ready for breakfast the night before; now she got out bacon, mushrooms and eggs and put the bread ready for the toaster.
Neither of the children was a quick dresser and she would have to look sharp if they were to get off to church. She made a pot of tea, donned an apron over her dressing-gown, rolled up her sleeves, and began to peel the potatoes.
She didn't turn round from the sink when she heard Mutt's claws on the ceramic tiles. "Your breakfast is in your saucer," she told him, "and is Tibs with you?"
She put her knife down and took a drink from the cup of tea beside her and turned round. Professor Lister was leaning against the doorjamb, Tibs under one arm. He had had plenty of time to study her-hair hanging in a long shining curtain, the useful dressing-gown which did nothing for her tied round her small waist, the cuffs turned back…
He said, pleasantly impersonal, "Good morning, Miss Smith. Forgive me for arriving at such an awkward hour. It was a last-minute decision to come…"
She wiped her hands and fetched another mug. "Good morning, Professor Lister. The children are going to be delighted. Have a mug of tea would you like something to eat? I can easily…"
"I'll share your breakfast, if I may, but tea would be delightful. Don't stop whatever you are doing. I'm sure that you have your hands full. Is everything all right?"
"Yes, thank you. If we are going to church, I need to get lunch ready to put in the oven before we go…"
He drank his tea and refilled their mugs. "You have too much to do?" he wanted to know. "Does Mrs. Pretty not come?"
"Oh, yes-she's marvellous, and I'm not in the least overworked." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and picked up another potato. "You'll be here for lunch?"
"Certainly, and tea and supper if I may. I have had news from my sister-she phoned a few hours ago. The children will want to hear what she said."
She put the potatoes into a saucepan and attacked a spring cabbage. "Would you like me to call them now? They're not very quick at getting dressed."
"Perhaps if I were to go up to their rooms and talk to them? That will give you a chance to get dressed…' His eyes swept over her person.
She suddenly went very red, and he wished he hadn't said that. He hadn't taken much notice of her, for the simple reason that there wasn't much to notice; now he hastened to make amends. "I'll hurry them up a bit, shall. I? If they are down before you are, they can make the toast and the tea." He stood towering over her, smiling kindly, and a surge of rage swept through her.
What did he expect at seven o'clock in the morning? How dared he look at her like that, as though she were an object of pity? She said frostily, "That seems a good idea, Professor." She put the mugs tidily in the sink and went away without looking at him.
As she showered and dressed she could hear the children's excited voices from the other side of the landing and the rumble of their uncle's laughter. The news must be good, which meant that soon she would go home again. "And a good thing too," she told her reflection, as she pinned up her hair into a ruthless bun.
There was no one in the kitchen when she went downstairs; she put an apron on over her skirt and blouse and began to fry bacon.
They all came in together and Gloria said at once, "You'll be able to go home soon, Araminta, our mother's coming home."
"That's splendid news, and what a lovely surprise for you. Your father's better?"
She began to dish up eggs and mushrooms and bacon, and the professor came to take the plates from her. He switched on the toaster too, and told Gloria to pour the tea. "My brother-in-law isn't well enough to come home yet, but he is making a good recovery and my sister feels able to return. He'll be flown bac
k within the next week or so. Now it is just a question of Patty's return."
"When Mother's back we shan't need Araminta," said Jimmy.
The professor lifted his eyebrows. "I think it very likely that your mother will be only too glad to have such a splendid helper. I do not care to think how we would have managed without her help."
Araminta, pecking at her bacon, didn't look up.
The talk was all of their mother's return and the prospect of seeing their father again, but breakfast was finished at last and the professor got up. "Jimmy, take the plates over to the sink, will you? Gloria, put away the butter and the marmalade in the dresser. There are fifteen minutes before we need leave for church. Be ready in the hall, the pair of you, and see to Mutt and Tibs before we go, won't you?"
"Why didn't you bring Goldie and Neptune with you?" asked Gloria.
"I left home very early this morning. Buller will take them for a walk and I'll be home again this evening."
He turned to Araminta. "I'll wash the dishes if you want to get ready for church, Miss Smith."
"Since you are here, do you mind if I stay at home? I'd be glad of an hour or two."
"I upset you, didn't I? I'm sorry. You must be anxious to return to your own home, and I dare say the children have been difficult."
She looked up at him. "No, not at all. They have been very good, and I've been happy here." She added tartly, "I don't upset easily, Professor Listen."
He said indifferently, "Which, considering the work you do, must be a great advantage to you."
With the place to herself she got the house tidied, made her own bed and, since neither Gloria nor Jimmy had done more than toss their duvets over the rumpled sheets, made theirs too, and then sped back to the kitchen to lay a tray for coffee before starting to prepare the lunch. She was usually a cheerful girl, but her thoughts were gloomy, and most of them centred on the professor. It was absurd that she should expect him to be more friendly; she was, after all, someone he had hired to do a job. He was invariably kind in an impersonal way, careful to treat her with courtesy, but all the same she was just Miss Smith to him, and that morning he had looked at her standing there in that old dressing-gown with her hair all over the place… She winced at what he must have thought. Anyway, she reminded herself, Mrs. Gault would be home very soon now and that would be the end of it. The children would be glad to see her go- She heard them coming into the house and put the milk on to boil.
"Uncle Jason's gone back to the Manor for drinks and coffee-he'll be here for lunch."
They threw their outdoor things down. "Isn't coffee ready?"
"It will be by the time you've hung up your things." It was no good being sharp with them, they had had too many years of spoiling, but at least they did as she asked, albeit grudgingly.
"We're going out after lunch-Uncle's going to take us to Bulbarrow for tea."
Araminta poured the coffee and fetched the tin of biscuits. "Isn't that a hill somewhere near Sturminster Newton?"
They looked surprised. "Have you been there?"
"No, but there's an article about it in a magazine in the sitting-room. You'll be able to take Mutt."
They went off to their rooms presently and she got on with her cooking; presumably the professor would want his lunch when he got back. She laid the table, wondering if she should use the dining-room. She and the children had had all their meals in the kitchen and there didn't seem much point in using another room. She was hesitating about getting out the good china when he came wandering in.
"We've been eating in the kitchen-not just breakfast, but all the time. I expect you'd rather have lunch in the dining-room?"
"No, no. I find the kitchen very pleasant. Is lunch ready? We're going to Bulbarrow this afternoon, no great distance, but the children are bound to want their tea there. There's a nice little place-Dorset cream teas and so on."
"I'll dish up while you have a drink, Professor."
"We'll both have a drink. Lady Scobell at the Manor is charming, but I swear she gave us all cooking sherry."
He went away and returned a few minutes later with two glasses of sherry. "Something, smells delicious," he observed, and added, "You'll come with us, of course."
"I think not, Professor. The children are fond of you and want you to themselves."
"Oh, I'm not sure about that." He glanced at her. "But if you prefer to stay here, please do. Have a quiet few hours free with a book."
She assured him happily that she would do just that; she would also get the supper ready, do the last of the ironing and write home. She longed to go with him, but her enjoyment would be spoilt since the children would resent her being with them. It would spoil the afternoon for everyone.
Sherry had sent a little spurt of pleasure through her, so that she reminded herself not to wallow in self-pity. On a wave of sherry induced cheerfulness she dished up and called the children to the table.
She was a good cook: the shoulder of lamb was just right, the roast potatoes were crisp on the outside and meltingly floury inside, and there were baby carrots and creamed spinach. She watched the professor carve and said apologetically, "I'm sorry it's lamb again, but I didn't know that you were coming and Jimmy and Gloria like it best."
"And so do I. You will make some lucky man a good wife, Miss Smith."
He didn't see the children look down at their plates to hide their smiles, but Araminta did. She said airily, "Yes, I shall enjoy being married and having a home of my own."
She had the satisfaction of seeing their surprise. The professor looked surprised too, and rather thoughtful.
The professor insisted that everyone should help clear away the dishes and help with the washing-up before they left the house, and only when the last plate had been put away did he go out to the car.
"We should be back some time after five o'clock" he told Araminta. "Could we have supper around half-past seven? I'd like to leave at nine o'clock."
He nodded a cheerful goodbye and she watched the car skim down the drive and into the lane, then she went back into the house and, since she had no wish to sit and think, got out her pastry board and made a batch of sausage rolls. She made a custard tart too, for afters. None of thatt took very long and the afternoon stretched emptily before her. The ironing could wait, she decided; she would find a book and get a jacket and sit in the garden for a while. It was a pleasant afternoon, still cool, but the sun shone and there were sheltered nooks where she could sit.
Tibs joined her, sitting beside her on the bench, and presently she closed her eyes and her book and allowed her thoughts to roam, and since there was no one to whom she could Milk she talked to Tibs.
"This job has unsettled me," she reflected. "I dare say it's partly the children-naturally they don't like me, I'm all part and parcel of the upheaval, aren't I? And, to be honest, I do not like these jobs. I would like to do something worthwhile and be very good at it so that people said, "There's that clever Miss Smith," and I'd have enough money to buy lovely clothes…' She thought for a bit. "And a different face!"
Tibs gave her a thoughtful glance and returned to her toilette; as far as she was concerned, her manner implied, Araminta could be cross-eyed and ten feet tall; she was the one who remembered to fill her saucer at the right times.
They both went indoors presently, to their respective teas, and shortly afterwards the others came back. Araminta, waging her usual obstinate battle over the hanging of garments on the hooks provided, hoped politely that they had enjoyed their afternoon, and was surprised to be answered just as politely, unaware that their uncle had expressed his displeasure at their casual treatment of her, and when they followed her into the kitchen and offered to help, she decided that the day hadn't been so bad after all.
He came into the house then, and they had their supper, and when the meal was over, obedient to their uncle's wish, they went upstairs to their rooms to play their loud music and watch the television.
As the first raucous notes
floated down the stairs, Professor Lister asked, "How can you bear it?"
"Well, actually, I can't, but it is their house, isn't it? And it's only for an hour or so in the evenings."
"You enjoyed your few hours of peace?" He had sat down at the table. "Please come and sit down, there are one or two matters…"
She sat. "I've kept an account of the money I've spent," she began.
"Yes, yes, don't bother with that. You'll need some more money-remind me before I go." he stared at her across the table and she looked back at him enquiringly.
"Do you dislike me, Miss Smith?"
"Good heavens, no," said Araminta. "In fact I quite like you. Not that I know you, if you see what I mean. But that doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, we aren't likely to meet again once Mrs. Gault comes home."
He didn't answer that. "You said that you were looking forward to getting married. Was that true?"
She looked at him in surprise, going rather red. "No."
"I am relieved to hear it. Have you no ambitions? Do you not wish to be a career girl?"
"Me?" She smiled. "I don't look like one, do I'? They are tall and thin, and wear those severe suits with very short skirts."
He observed blandly, "You have very nice legs, Miss Smith." His eyes were on her face. Why, she wondered, had she ever thought that he was absent-minded? He was staring at her like a hawk. "So your future is an open book…"
"Well, yes, until the next job turns up." On an impulse she asked, "Why do you call me Miss Smith? No one else ever does."
He smiled then. "It suits you!" He glanced at his watch. "I should be going." He fished in his pocket, took out his notecase and handed her some notes. "That should keep you going for a few more days. Let me know how things are when I phone. I had better say goodbye to the children."
The three of them watched him drive away, and Araminta, remembering their conversation, tried to make head or tail of it and couldn't.
CHAPTER FOUR
LATER, in bed that night, Araminta thought about the professor. He had asked her some strange questions. Whatever difference did it make to him whether she liked him or not? And why should he be relieved to hear that she wasn't going to get married? Had he another Job in mind for her and, if so, why hadn't he said so? He was really rather nice; indeed, if she allowed herself to do so, she could easily wish to see more of him, which was absurd, for they had very little to say to each other during their infrequent meetings. She knew nothing about him. For all she knew, he might he engaged…