by Betty Neels
"I'd like that. Are your rooms close by? Can I walk there?"
"Easily, but I'll be home for lunch. I'll drive you there and we can come home together."
"Oh, good. I won't be in the way?"
"No, Araminta." The certainty in his voice left her content.
When she went down to breakfast the next morning it was to find him already gone. "Needed at the hospital," Buller told her. "Left the house soon after I was up, ma'am. I was to tell you that he'll be home for lunch but to make it one o'clock."
There was plenty to keep her busy during the morning: the dogs to walk, flowers to arrange, Mrs. Buller to see, the cat and kittens to attend to. All the same, the hours dragged before she would see Jason again.
"Just remember why he married you, my girl," she reminded her reflection as she tidied her hair and checked her make-up. "Companionship, friendship, and someone to talk to…"
He was a little late for lunch, but nothing in his manner betrayed that he had been operating since before eight o'clock that morning. "A nasty road accident," he told her. "Teenagers in a stolen car."
"Tell me about it."
Since she obviously wanted to know, he told her and, when he had finished, he said, "What a good listener you are, Araminta," and smiled as he added, "But that is partly why I married you, isn't it?"
He spoke casually but he watched her from under his lids as he spoke.
"That's right. But you see, I am really interested-I want to know about your work." That sounded a bit too enthusiastic. "I think perhaps I would have liked to have trained as a nurse."
Jason's rooms were in Wigmore Street, in a tall red-brick house with a dignified entrance and well-polished brass plates beside the door. He led her up a flight of stairs and opened a door on the landing. The waiting-room, comfortably furnished with flowers here and there, was light and airy, the windows curtained in a pretty flowery chintz. Reassuring, thought Araminta, and soothing to a nervous patient. Mrs. Wells was there, and so was Mrs. Dunn, both cosily shaped, with kind faces and severe hair-styles. It wasn't until Araminta was shaking hands with them that she acknowledged the fear that they might have been willowy young women with beautiful legs and lovely faces:
They carried her off to a small room behind the waiting-room and sat her down. "You'll have a cup of tea, Mrs. Lister? We are so very glad to meet you. I must just pop back and see if the professor wants anything and show in the first patient, then I'll be back and Dolly will have to go into the consulting-room." Mrs. Wells beamed at Araminta. "We have been so anxious for the dear professor to marry-a family man at heart despite his books, we have always said, and that lovely house, just right for little children."
There was more than enough room for half a dozen, thought Araminta, three of each, and the little girls would be blue-eyed and fairhaired and beautiful…
"Such a joy, I always think," Mrs. Wells was saying, "and in such a pretty village." She was looking rather anxiously at Araminta, who made haste to agree although she wasn't sure what she was agreeing about.
Mrs. Dunn nodded her head in a pleased way as Mrs. Wells went away, to return presently so that Mrs. Dunn could take her place. "We'll have a cup of tea now, shall we? Dolly will be some time with the patient-she's rather elderly." She poured the tea. "How do you like being a doctor's wife? Well, I should say surgeon, shouldn't I? And a busy one too-such a shame that you don't see more of each other. My hubby was a chemist so he had regular hours." Just for a moment she looked wistful. "There's nothing like a happy marriage. Me and Dolly, we've been lucky and still are, for the professor is so considerate. There's nothing we wouldn't do for him."
Araminta accepted more tea. She had wanted to know as much as possible about Jason; here were rich pickings. She asked, "Have you both been working for him for a long time?"
Mrs. Wells was only too glad to gossip and, when she was at her desk, Mrs. Dunn was in and out. Araminta learned a good deal about Jason, things that she thought he might not tell her himself: hours on end at a railway crash, lying under the wreckage of a huge transporter, amputating a leg so that the driver might be freed, being lowered from a helicopter on to a giant wheel at a fun-fair to deal with a child's head injuries. There were countless incidents about which he had never spoken except, of necessity, to his two faithful helpers.
Later, when the last patient had gone, he came to fetch her, and she had such a strong urge to fling her arms round his neck and tell him how much she loved him that she could only nod and smile when he asked her if she had enjoyed meeting Mrs. Wells and Mrs. Dunn.
A week went by, during which Araminta had ample time to realise that concealing her true feelings from Jason while at the same time doing her best to make him fall in love with her was going to be fraught with hazardous moments. Once or twice she had caught him looking at her in a thoughtful manner, rather like a doctor not quite sure of his diagnosis, but not, to her regret, in the least lover-like. On the other hand, he had taken to sitting with her after dinner in the evenings, immersed in a book, it was true. She took pains with her appearance, taking care to sit so that the gentle rose-coloured light from the lamp on her table shone on to whichever of the new dresses she was wearing. Not that he would notice, she reflected.
The professor did notice. Immersed in the newspapers or the poems of Juvenal-in the original of course-he yet found the opportunity to watch Araminta sitting there, the picture of tranquillity, stitching away at her tapestry. It was a pity she never looked up, for then she would have seen that his manner wasn't in the least thoughtful, so they sat, the pair of them, each concealing their true feelings, entirely at cross-purposes.
All the same, they were the best of friends, exchanging their day's news each evening, and Araminta, primed by the books he had found for her, was beginning to understand what he was talking about while he listened with inward amusement to her accounts of coffee mornings and afternoon teas with his colleagues' wives. They were kind to her, she told him, although some of the older wives were a little overpowering.
"We'll give a dinner party," he told her, "but not just yet. I thought we might go to the cottage again…"
"I'd like that-when?"
"This weekend, if that suits you? I'll be free on Saturday and Sunday."
The weather began to worsen towards the weekend but they decided to go just the same. They left on Friday evening in pouring rain and a fierce wind, which seemed fiercer once they had left the city behind them and were driving through the flat Essex countryside. They reached the cottage without mishap to find that Mrs. Lott had left a meal ready to be warmed up, the fire laid and the central heating on. They had brought the dogs with them, but Blossom the cat and her kittens had been left in Mrs. Buller's care. Araminta went from room to room turning the lights on, while Jason lit the fire and then took the dogs for a run while she got the supper. The three of them came back presently, wringing wet.
"It's turning nasty," observed Jason. "Let's see what the weather forecast is."
"A rapid deterioration in the weather," said a serious forecaster. "Storm-force winds likely to sweep across the country within the next twenty-four hours." There would probably be damage to buildings; people were advised to secure their homes and avoid travelling unless it was necessary.
"We had better go home tomorrow morning," said Jason as they sat at supper. "I'm going to make everything secure here and we can leave as soon as possible." He spoke easily. "I think it best if we return early. I've a list on Monday morning."
Araminta hid disappointment. She had been looking forward to a day or two with himm away from phone calls and emergencies, to say nothing of the hours he spent in his study. He would have time to talk to her. What about, she had no idea, but if there was nothing else to attract his attention he might take rather more interest in her as a person. "That seems sensible," she observed. "I've not unpacked the bags yet. What a good thing."
After their meal the professor went out again with the remark that he would b
e back presently, but it was half an hour before he returned, very wet.
"Where have you been? You're wringing wet again." Araminta sounded so like a nagging wife that he smiled. "I've battened down the garden shed and the coal-shed, and moved everything which can be moved into the lean-to. I went down to the village and saw Mrs. Lott, and told her that I would shut off everything before we go so that she won't need to come here until the weather improves."
"The cottage will be all right? The roof… ?"
"Thatch, my dear. Pretty safe, and the walls are thick. The weather's worsening, though. Suppose we leave after breakfast-nine o'clock suit you?"
She bade him goodnight and went upstairs to her bed, leaving everything ready for their breakfast in the morning. She would get up early and empty the fridge and pack away the tins and packets-things which would come to no harm if they were stored for some time. The wind was howling round the cottage as she got into bed, and she had expected that it would keep her awake, but she was asleep within five minutes, her last thoughts of Jason, as they always were.
A hand on her shoulder brought her upright in the dark room, lighted by the torch the professor held. "My dear, I'm sorry to wake you. We have to go back as soon as possible. Lydia phoned-how the lines are still working is a miracle-Jimmy is missing. The river has broken its banks and parts of Tisbury are under water. He's been staying with a friend on the other side and the friend's parents phoned her to say that their boy came back a few hours ago and Jimmy wasn't with him. Lydia is distraught. I must go and see what I can do…"
Araminta tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Of course you must. What's the time?"
"Five o'clock. I'll make tea while you dress." He went away and she shot out of bed and into her clothes, tied back her hair with a handy piece of string and hurried downstairs. Jason was in the kitchen, pouring hot water into the teapot. "Thank heaven we've got gas." He put their mugs on the table and put down water for the dogs. "Can you be ready in ten minutes?"
"Yes." She opened the fridge door and began to load its contents into the box they had brought with them. She was as good as her word. She was ready, her Burberry closely belted, a scarf tied over her head and the dogs beside her when he came in, closing the door against the gale.
He loaded their bags and the box and came back for the dogs, clipping on their leads. "In case we need to get out of the car," he explained in his unhurried way. "Stay there and I'll come for you."
It was dark in the cottage for there was no electricity. It seemed like hours instead of minutes before Jason came back with the torch, and Araminta had her teeth clenched on a scream, but his unworried, "Ready? Don't let go of me once we're outside or you'll be blown over," reassured her.
She had no intention of letting go; she clung like a limpet as they went outside. The car was very close; he opened the door and tossed her in as though she had been a feather, made his way round the bonnet and got in beside her, fastened her seatbelt and switched on.
"Did you turn off the gas and electricity?" asked Araminta and he laughed.
"What's so funny?" she asked edgily.
"No, no, not funny, I find it so reassuring that you should think of it-as though we were going on holiday and you were having last minute doubts about leaving the family home. I am delighted to see that you are not prone to hysterics when things go a little wrong."
"I was about to scream when you came back," said Araminta, ever truthful.
The professor turned to look at her. The scarf tied tightly over unbrushed hair did nothing to enhance her ordinary face, pale with fright. He thought that she looked beautiful. He sent the big car forward carefully, but not before he had bent to kiss her.
She sat like a mouse, not moving a muscle as he drove through the lane, already flooded in places, and when the headlights revealed a fallen tree only yards ahead she made no sign as he reversed back up the narrow road until he reached a crossroads. "Look at the map," he told her. "The signpost says Little Mitchford-can we work round through there back to the Bishop's Stortford road?"
"Yes." She was peering at the map with the aid of a torch. "At Little Mitchford you'll have to turn left to Great Winley…"
"If I can. We'll have a go!"
It was lighter now, as light as it would get for some time, the sky leaden and menacing, and Jason switched on the radio.
"Severe storms," said a cheerful voice, "increasing in the west of the country, causing severe flooding; minor roads blocked by fallen trees; drivers are urged to stay at home unless their journey is absolutely necessary."
"Could we go by train?" began Araminta.
The voice continued, "Train services to the south and west of the country are seriously disrupted."
"I'll take the car, Araminta," said the professor, and added, "I shall go alone."
Araminta, who had no intention of allowing him to do any such thing, said, "Yes, Jason," and then, "We turn off here to Great Winley."
They finally gained the main road, almost empty of traffic, but they were driving into the wind now and it slowed their progress; nonetheless Jason drew up before their front door soon after eight o'clock.
"A hot bath for you, Araminta and a few hours in bed. But we'll have breakfast first, shall we?"
"I'll tell Buller. You're going to Tisbury?"
"Of course, but breakfast first."
A worried Buller came into the hall as they went in with the dogs. He said, "Good morning, ma'am, professor. We were a little worried. You'll be needing a good breakfast. Very nasty weather outside."
"Very nasty," agreed his master. He looked at Araminta. "Breakfast in twenty minutes, my dear?"
Araminta, the picture of wifely acqiescence, said yes, and watched him throw off his wet raincoat and go into the drawing-room to let the dogs out into the garden. Upstairs she tore out of her clothes, showered in less than no time and dressed again, this time in tartan trousers and a thick pullover. Buller had taken their Burberrys to dry, and her wellies were still in the car. She unpacked her shoulder-bag and packed it again with spare undies, toothbrush, comb and a torch, bundled her hair into a plait and found a thick woollen scarf and gloves. With five minutes to spare she was downstairs again, leaving the bag, scarf and gloves in her room.
Jason had changed too. He glanced up as she joined him in the drawing-room and they went to have breakfast. "You need not have dressed again-a dressing-gown would have done well enough. In fact, you could have had breakfast in bed-I should have thought of that."
"It's nice to feel warm again," said Araminta chattily, "and I'm famished." She applied herself to breakfast and made no effort to talk. Jason was looking thoughtful, probably deciding the best way to get to Tisbury.
They didn't linger over their meal. As they left the dining-room he said, "I'll be off now. Don't worry if you don't hear anything, probably the phone won't be working, but I'll keep in touch as soon as I can from the car."
He had stopped to fondle the dogs, and started to get into his Burberry.
Araminta said nothing but skipped upstairs, to appear in no time at all clad for the journey.
His frown might have intimidated anyone less determined than Araminta. "I'm coming with you," she told him.
"Indeed you are not…' His voice was icy.
"You'll need someone to hold the torch and open the car doors-and go for help. I'm coming. I'm sorry if it annoys you. I won't say a word in the car and I'm not a bit frightened when you're driving."
"You have no need to butter me up." He sounded outraged.
"Don't be silly," said Araminta. "I'm sensible and strong and another pair of hands, which I'm sure you will need when we get there. I'm coming."
"I don't want you with me, Araminta."
"I know that, but you'll just have to put up with me! "
"It will probably be dangerous."
She gave him a long look. "What's why I'm coming," she told him quietly. "We're wasting time…"
He wrapped her round with
his great arms. "If anything should happen…' he said half angrily, but she didn't care; it was like being held close by a very solid tree. In a Burberry, she reflected absurdly.
"Nothing will happen," she muttered into his shoulder.
He ran a gentle finger down her cheek. "Let's go," he said.
It wasn't until they were clear of London and its suburbs that the full force of the storm made itself felt. The rain beat relentlessly against the windscreen and they could see the flooded fields on either side of the motorway. There were trees lying uprooted, and several times Jason had to brake to avoid falling branches, but the car held the road well and, since Jason appeared unperturbed, Araminta did her best to imitate him. They didn't talk; it was hardly a situation where conversation was required, and they had said all that there was to say for the moment.
After what seemed to her to be a lifetime, they reached the Tisbury turn-off and found the road for the most part under water. It was strewn with debris from the storm as well, and twice Jason stopped the car to get out and haul aside branches lying across the road. It was noon by now and there were no signs of the storm's dying down; it was still raining as hard as ever and the sky hung like a dark grey blanket over their heads. Araminta, peering from her window, just hoped that Jason knew the way, for there were narrow roads every mile or so and lanes running off in all directions, all awash. It was with relief that she glimpsed a glimmer of light and saw that they were passing scattered houses, most of them with candles in their windows. "Tisbury," said Jason, and looked at the car clock. "Almost one o'clock."
Araminta, practical and hungry, observed that it was lunchtime, and he laughed. "You have hidden depths which continue to astonish me, my dear." He drove slowly now as they neared the village, and she sat wondering just what he had meant. Obviously he wasn't going to tell her then. The road was fairly clear of water but, as they reached the top of the hill leading down to the shops and station, she could see that the flood water was deep there. He turned the car up the hill and presently stopped before Lydia's door.