by Betty Neels
Alice was still not home when she got back. She prepared a casserole, made a bread-and-butter pudding, and took her tea into the sittingroom, and while she drank it she wondered about Professor Lister. Would she ever see him again? she wondered. She began to dream, letting her tea get cold-appendicitis and rushed dramatically to hospital for immediate operation, and when she came round from the anaesthetic, there he would be, bending over her, reassuring her that she would recover, that she was a marvellous patient, that her courage in the face of pain had quite won his heart…
"Well, really," declared Araminta loudly, " I need my head examined-of all the nonsense." She added with determined briskness, "He'll have forgotten me completely by now."
But he hadn't.
Her father came home presently. "There you are, my dear," he exclaimed, just as though he hadn't seen her at breakfast. "Had a pleasant day? Alice has gone with friends down to Brighton-she needed a breath of sea air. She'll be back some time this evening. Something smells good…"
"Beef casserole, Father. Would you like it straight away?"
"Yes, yes, why not? And we must have a little chat. I'm sure you have enough money to keep us going for the time being? I find myself short of cash…"
Araminta sat down opposite him. "No, father, I haven't. I've paid some of the bills which were owing. Did you know how many there were? And there is no money left." She crossed her fingers behind her back as she uttered the fib.
Her father blustered. "Well, I must say that's very shabby of you, Araminta. Heaven knows how I struggle to keep you girls in comfort and pay our way."
"Yes, Father, I'm sure you do. If Alice could find a small job, she could spend her money on clothes and outings and that would leave a great deal more housekeeping and you wouldn't need to worry."
"You're hard, Araminta. I'm sorry to say it, but you lack a loving understanding. Alice and I are all the family you have-you should feel proud that you can help us to make life tolerable."
Araminta cleared away the plates and fetched the pudding. There was no point in saying anything, for her father wasn't going to listen. If I could save a little money, she thought wildly, I could leave home and find a job anything to start with-and then get a training for something worthwhile.
Her father eyed her across the table. "You look thoughtful, Araminta. I hope it is because you realise the sorrow your selfishness causes me."
"Father, you sound like someone in a Victorian novel. Have some more pudding?"
"Thank you, no. Sufficient must be left for Alice; she will probably be hungry after such a long day." He got up from the table and stalked from the room, leaving her to clear the dishes and wash up. She stood at the sink, looking out of the window at the evening sky filled with scudding clouds through which the moon was doing its best to shine, and for no reason at all she started to think about Professor Listen again. He would be home by now, she reflected, sitting beside the fire with Goldie and Neptune crouched beside him. He would be wearing his reading-glasses and be deep in some interesting book, and presently Buller would come in to tell him that dinner was served…
The professor was indeed in his drawing-room, sitting, exactly as Araminta had imagined, beside his hearth, the dogs sprawled over his feet, a book in his hand. Only he wasn't reading; he was, if only she had known it, thinking of her. He was vaguely irritated that he seemed unable to get her out of his mind-after all, there was no reason why she should keep popping up in his thoughts. She was a very ordinary girl, hired to do a job which she had done with skill, and that was the end of it. On the other hand he had found her an ideal companion, making no effort to entertain him, making sensible conversation and with the gift of being silent-restfully so, without fidgeting or combing her hair, powdering her nose or fussing with lipstick. She wasn't a girl to demand attention either, but she was perfectly capable of holding her own in a no nonsense fashion.
He got out of his chair as Buller appeared in the doorway. In a few days, when he had an hour or so to spare, he might look her up to see how she was getting on. The suspicion that she wasn't happy at home crossed his mind, and he frowned; it would be interesting to see her sister again and meet her father…
Araminta, optimistic by nature, arrived at Mrs. Taylor's house exactly on time to be admitted by Mrs. Loder.
"Back again, ducks. Plenty of work for you this morning." She chuckled. "Someone gave the old lady a box of chocs-she ate the lot."
Araminta braced her small person and went into Mrs. Price's room, pulled the curtains back and turned to survey the dire results of the chocolates. Mrs. Price, her nightdress and the bed were liberally coated. Mrs. Taylor would tear her cleverly tinted hair out by the roots when she saw the mess, although if Mrs. Loder had told her about it she would quite likely, and very prudently, defer her visit until everything was cleaned up.
Araminta led the chocolate-covered old lady to the cloak room and washed her from top to toe, helped her to dress, and set her in a chair before tackling the bed. There was no help for it, it would have to be clean sheets again…
Mrs. Taylor came during the morning, and by that time Araminta had the room and its occupant in a more or less clean state. Mrs. Price, settled in her chair, had given endless orders and directions in a querulous voice, which Araminta had allowed to flow over her head while she bundled up sheets and pillowcases. Mrs. Taylor greeted her parent and then stopped short.
"Miss Smith, not another change of sheets, I hope."
"Somebody gave Mrs. Price a box of chocolates," said Araminta and, since Mrs. Taylor gave her an unbelieving look, she spread out a sheet for her inspection.
Mrs. Taylor averted her eyes. "Kindly take everything through to the kitchen. Someone will have to see to it."
But not me, said Araminta silently, returning presently with Mrs. Price's morning drink.
Mrs. Taylor was still there. "Really, I don't know what is to be done," she declared.
"No more chocolates," offered Araminta, anti received a cutting glance. She ignored that. "If someone were here while Mrs. Price has her meals?" she suggested.
"Impossible. I have a very busy life." Mrs. Taylor narrowed her eyes. "You could stay until one o' clock and see that my mother has her lunch."
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Mrs. Taylor. The arrangement was for three hours each morning."
She waited for Mrs. Taylor to say that in that case she would get someone else, but she didn't. All she said was, "See that the fire is kept up-the room's not warm enough." She glanced round. "There is a window open."
"Fresh air," explained Araminta politely. "The room wasn't smelling very nice when I got here."
She wondered then who had brought the old lady's breakfast; surely they would have seen the mess? It didn't seem prudent to ask.
Mrs. Taylor went away then and didn't come back until almost half-past twelve. Perhaps this was how it would be each day, thought Araminta, making good her escape.
The days dragged themselves to the end of the week: hard-working mornings and the chores to see to when she got home, for if Alice was there it was seldom, and then she would be sulking because Araminta didn't dare to let her do the shopping. Their heads were just above water, but only just; there was no knowing what Alice would see and buy if she had any money with her. And her father, sitting opposite her at supper each evening, darted reproachful glances at her and, when he caught her eye, smiled wistfully.
On Friday evening he was more cheerful. "It's Saturday tomorrow-pay-day," he said happily.
Araminta chose to misunderstand him. "Father, didn't they pay your cheque in last week? Have you given the housekeeping to Alice?"
"Well, my dear, there were one or two hills-gas and electricity-and Alice needed one or two things. I quite forgot to let you have any money. You shall have it next week. I daresay you'll get paid from the agency tomorrow-you can use that, can't you? I'll pay you back."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Father," said Araminta, "but Mrs. Taylor does
n't intend to pay any fees until I'm not needed there. I believe there's a cousin coming to stay who'll take over from me, but I don't know when."
Mr. Smith was indignant. "But that's absurd; you're entitled to your money each week. Still, I dare say there's still something left over from that other job of yours." He smiled at her. "I'm sure you've got something tucked away for a rainy day, my dear."
It was no use, she thought wearily; she loved her father, despite the fact that he allowed money to trickle through his fingers like sand through a sieve. When her mother had been alive it hadn't been as bad, but now that Alice was grown up, wanting things…
"I've almost no money, Father," she said gently, "but I'll do the best I can. Perhaps you can persuade Alice to find a job-she won't listen to me…"
"Well, understandably, Araminta. You have hurt her feelings, you know-she's such a sensitive girl."
At least it's Sunday tomorrow, thought Araminta as she dressed the next morning. She wondered what happened to Mrs. Price on that day and what kind of a mess she would find on Monday morning. But first, Saturday.
Old Mrs. Price was in a bad mood; she had never shown a sunny disposition but this morning she was more irascible than ever, and on top of that Mrs. Taylor was coldly angry because Araminta regretted that she wouldn't be able to come on Sunday morning. "The agency arranged for me to come from Monday until Saturday," she pointed out quietly.
"Oh, I know that, but what are a couple of hours to you? You'll still have the rest of the day to yourself. I've a luncheon party I simply cannot miss."
"Perhaps if you ring the agency, they will have someone who could take over tomorrow?" suggested Araminta.
"Don't be ridiculous, Miss Smith. Who would want to work on a Sunday?"
Who indeed? reflected Araminta.
"I shall be late back, I've things to do," snapped Mrs. Taylor. "You'll have to wait until I return."
"I will wait until half-past twelve, Mrs. Taylor," Araminta said reasonably, "but then I shall go, for I have things to do. Indeed, I hoped to leave at noon today-that was the arrangement."
"I shall replace you as soon as possible." Mrs. Taylor flounced away and presently left the house.
The morning was much as the other mornings had been. Mrs. Price was cross and contrived to do everything twice as slowly as usual; the fire wouldn't burn briskly and the old lady spilt her elevenses all over the floor. Araminta mopped up and prayed for the morning to end.
Which it did, eventually, and, better than that, Mrs. Taylor was only fifteen minutes late. "Don't expect to get paid until you leave," snapped Mrs. Taylor. "And mind you're here on Monday morning."
Araminta nipped smartly through the door before Mrs. Taylor could think of anything more unpleasant to say, took a breath of more or less fresh air and stood still on the pavement. Drawn up to the kerb was a dark grey Rolls Royce with Professor Lister sitting in it. He got out when he saw her, opened the door on the other side, scooped her neatly on to the seat and got in again. All without a word.
"Well, really," said Araminta, at a loss for words. A silly remark, but she couldn't think of ,inything else.
He turned to look at her. "Hello, Miss Smith-have you had a trying morning?" He sounded concerned, and she supposed that her appearance justified his enquiry.
"I have had a trying week," she told him. "Are you visiting a patient, Professor?"
"No. I thought we might have lunch together?"
"How did you know where I was?"
"I rang the agency."
He began to drive away and she said quickly, "It's kind of you to ask me to lunch, but I really should go home."
"Why?"
"Well, there is the shopping to do, and if Father and Alice are at home they will expect lunch."
"They won't worry if you are late back?"
"Worry? No, of course not, they'll think that I've had to stay at Mrs. Taylor's for some reason or other."
"That's all right, then. We can talk over lunch."
"I'm not dressed for lunch," said Araminta and pointed out in the most matter-of-fact way that she was very untidy.
"In that case we will go somewhere where you can tidy yourself and eat in quiet surroundings."
"Why do you want to see me?" asked Araminta. "If it's another job, I'm supposed to stay with Mrs. Taylor until someone comes to take over."
"That is easily remedied. As to why I want to see you, we will discuss that presently."
He turned his head and smiled at her, and her heart gave a little skip of delight. She told herself sharply that that was quite enough of that; to get ideas about him would never do. She said primly, "Very well, Professor," and sat quietly until he turned into the forecourt of St Pancras station and parked the car.
She got out when he opened her door, and gave him a questioning look.
"We'll go to the restaurant, and then you can go and do whatever you need to do and join me there."
The restaurant was large and, strangely enough, quiet. He led her to a table in a corner, said, "Off you go, you know where I am," and took out his reading-glasses to study the menu.
If I were looking for romance, I certainly wouldn't find it with Professor Lister, reflected Araminta, doing things to her face and repinning her abundant hair. Nothing could improve the cotton sweater and skirt under her jacket. It struck her then that that was why he had brought her here for lunch; she looked like hundreds of other women travelling to and from work, and had no need to worry about her appearance. The idea sent a little glow of pleasure through her person, that he should have thought of that and spared her any embarrassment.
He got up as she joined him. "What would you like to drink? Sherry?"
"You can't drink, can you," she asked him, "since you're driving? So I won't either. I'd like a tonic water and lemon with ice."
He ordered for her and picked up his menu. "I don't know what the food's like, but choose whatever you would like."
"A mushroom omelette and a salad, please." And when he had ordered that, with a steak for himself, she said, "You wanted to talk about something?"
He smiled a little, took off his glasses and put them in his pocket. "Ah, yes, but might that wait until we have had our lunch? I should like you to tell me about this job of yours-from the look of you, I think it must not suit you."
She went red and put her hands, roughened by a week of rendering Mrs. Price and her room clean, in her lap, out of sight. If he noticed, he said nothing, but merely sat there, waiting for her to speak. She began carefully, "Well, it is rather-well-messy, and Mrs. Taylor…' She launched into an account of her work, careful not to exaggerate, and contrived to finish quite cheerfully. "I don't expect I'll have to be there much longer, there's someone-a cousin, I think-coming to look after Mrs. Price. The next job may be very much better."
The waitress brought their lunch and the professor made no comment, but talked about a variety of subjects which only needed the briefest of replies. She ate her omelette with appetite, accepted his offer of apple-pie for dessert and, since he seemed to have lost all interest in her work, took care to follow his lead and talk about nothing much.
It was over coffee that he observed in his calm way, "Of course you cannot go back to that dreadful woman. I'll see the agency and arrange for you to leave as from today."
Araminta looked at him, aghast. "Oh, please don't do that. I… We need the money…' She could have bitten her tongue the next instant for snaking such a revealing remark. "What I mean is…' she began.
"I am aware of what you mean, Araminta."
Diverted, she exclaimed, "You called me Araminta."
"And I hope I shall continue to do so," he observed blandly. "Now, I want you to listen to me, and pray do not interrupt."
"Well, I'll try not to." She poured their coffee and handed him a cup. "But I might, you know, if you surprise or annoy me."
"I may surprise you, but I hope that I shall not annoy you."
Araminta tookk a sip of coff
ee. She was nicely full, the coffee was excellent, and she had to admit that she was very much enjoying the professor's company. She wondered briefly what he wanted to say to her, but, before she could begin to guess, he said in a conversational tone,
"I have decided to take a wife. Until recently I have found my life quite satisfactory; I have my work, my friends and a pleasant home, but I must admit I feel the need for a companion, a good friend, someone to come home to and who will listen to how my day has gone. I suppose that, like most men, I have hoped that one day I would meet a woman I would want to love and live with for the rest of my life, but it seems she has eluded me, so I must settle for second-best. After all, many love-matches come to grief, whereas a marriage founded on friendship and compatibility may well prove very successful." He paused to look at her, sitting very much at her ease, smiling a little.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I considered it right to explain my feelings before I ask you to marry me, Araminta." She put her cup down very carefully in its saucer, and he added, "I've surprised you, Araminta, but not, I hope, annoyed you."
"Yes, you have, but I'm not annoyed. No one has ever asked me to marry them before; it's not something any girl would get annoyed about.
She reflected that something had annoyed her, though; she was to be second-best, was she? and the idea was laughable, of course she should marry him, she would make him eat those words, even if it took years. It was, in fact, a good reason for marrying him…
A fleeting vision of the professor kneeling at her feet begging forgiveness flashed through her head and was instantly sternly repulsed. She was aware that he was studying her face intently, and she met his gaze without coyness.