A Dream Came True

by Betty Neels

  She found an old cookery book presently and sat down at the table close to the lamp and passed the time choosing various menus. ‘French onion soup,’ she said aloud, ‘and then grilled sole and boeuf en croûte and a soufflé harlequin with lashings of cream.’ She gave a great sigh. ‘If only someone would ask me out to dinner that’s what I’d choose.’

  She got up and began to walk about again. The Aga was very low now and the room was cold. She put on another sweater and looked at the clock. Alexander should have arrived by now. A pang of pure panic shot through her; he’d run out of fuel, he’d had an accident, he was dead…

  He opened the door and walked in, and only by a superhuman effort did Jemima manage not to burst into tears.

  ‘Ready?’ he asked, just as though he’d been gone for a couple of minutes instead of the best part of two hours, and when she nodded, went over to the Aga, raked it out, blew out the candles and the lamp and picked up her case. ‘Let’s go, then.’

  He sounded so abrupt and impatient that she didn’t speak, only followed him wordlessly outside. He must be very tired by now, she knew, and the least she could do was not to waste a second of his time. He tied the case on his back and caught her by the arm, slipped on his skis, and set off. It wasn’t as difficult as she had expected. The boots were too big, of course and she floundered a bit, determined to keep up with him. Once or twice she went into deep snow and he hauled her out, the snow melting down her cold legs inside the boots, so that her feet became numb. She began to think that they had lost the helicopter, and then suddenly there it was, only yards away.

  Even if she hadn’t loved him she would have admired him for ever for the neat speed in which he got her case, the skis and themselves on board. The helicopter seemed very small; she hoped nervously that it would stay up in the air as they rose from the ground and she closed her eyes.

  ‘Perfectly safe,’ said the Professor’s calm voice. ‘I’ve been flying for some years.’ The faint mockery in his voice made her open her eyes at once.

  ‘I’m not in the least nervous,’ she assured him coldly, and then as he swung round in a half circle, shut them again.

  It was very nearly dark by now, but the snow threw an uncanny light over the countryside. Jemima took a look from time to time and decided that she didn’t much like it; she had never been so thankful to see the airport’s lights.

  It was like being a child again. She was lifted out of the helicopter, told to do this, that and the other thing and obeyed without question. The whole process was vague until she found herself in the foyer of the hotel with the Professor beside her.

  He took her arm and went over to the reception desk where he was given a key which he put into her hand. ‘Go up to your room and—er—tidy yourself. We’ll have dinner in half an hour. And don’t go to sleep!’

  ‘What about Lady Manderly? I must…’

  ‘I’ll go and see her now. You shall go and say good night to her after we’ve had dinner. She will have hers in her room.’

  Jemima was too weary to argue—besides, she was well aware that it would be of no use. She followed the bellboy into the lift without another word.

  Her room was warm and comfortable and the bed was inviting. She tore her eyes from it and undressed, had a shower and took her things out of her case, regretting that she had nothing spectacular to wear. Another skirt and a blouse with a thin sweater over it was the best she could manage. Her hair needed a wash, but there wasn’t time. With a couple of minutes in hand she made her way down to the foyer.

  The Professor was waiting for her. He took her into the bar and sat her down. ‘What we both need is a drink,’ he said pleasantly, ‘and then a meal.’ He smiled at her. ‘How nice you look,’ he observed. ‘Although I must say you looked pretty good this morning.’

  She blushed, because of course he was teasing her, and accepted the sherry he offered her. ‘I won’t ask if you’d like brandy,’ he went on. ‘All three of you must have drunk deep of that!’

  He was teasing. She smiled and sipped her sherry, feeling lightheaded. She was going to have dinner with him, for the first—and almost for certain the last time too. The prospect rendered her silent, so that her share of the conversation was an occasional yes or no.

  But over dinner she found her tongue again. She was going to enjoy her evening, since she wasn’t likely to have another one like it. When he asked her what she would like to eat she said instantly: ‘Oh, French onion soup, grilled sole and boeuf en crote,’ and then seeing his amused look: ‘Oh no, I’m sorry, that’s what I chose while I was waiting for you. There was an old cookery book and I picked out what I would most like…it was just something to do.’

  ‘A sound choice.’ He beckoned the waiter and held a low-voiced conversation with him. When the man had gone he said: ‘They can’t manage the beef, it would take too long, but I’m told the spare ribs are excellent. Will you try those instead?’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t mean…there was no need to go to all that trouble…it was only…’

  ‘My dear girl, after the days you’ve just been through, if you’d asked for the moon, I would have done my best to get it for you.’ He sat back in his chair, looking at her. ‘Such a small mouse of a girl facing up to a situation which would have daunted anyone twice your size. I can imagine my aunt was hardly the easiest of companions, and Pooley may be splendid with the mending and ironing, but I don’t fancy she could stand up to an emergency.’ He broke off as they were served their soup. ‘Thank God for food,’ he commented.

  ‘When did you last have a meal?’ asked Jemima, all her motherly instincts aroused.

  ‘Breakfast—very early this morning.’

  ‘What happened to…’ She broke off and bit her lip. ‘Of course, you were at the lodge by then, and I didn’t give you anything to eat. I’m truly sorry. I could have made you a bowl of porridge…’

  ‘I never eat porridge.’ He sounded aloof, but the sherry on her empty insides had made her slightly reckless. She waited until their plates had been removed and replaced by the sole. ‘Did Gloria mind you coming?’ she asked, and sipped the white wine in her glass.

  ‘I hardly had time to tell her,’ he told her carelessly. ‘Have you received the replies to your advertisement?’ he added, ‘I got my secretary to see to it.’

  She had gone a little pale at the snub, but it had been her own fault after all. ‘Yes, thank you,’ she tried to match her voice with his. ‘There were three of them.’

  ‘Any good?’

  She busied herself with the sole so that she wouldn’t have to look at him. ‘Oh, yes, they’re all three rather nice, I think, I’m not sure which to choose. I’ve written to them all and I’ll see which I like the best.’

  ‘In London?’

  Jemima thought rapidly; if she said no he might smell a rat. ‘One is—one is somewhere in Hampstead, of the others, the one I like best is somewhere in the Midlands. I can never quite remember the places there.’

  The Professor was watching her intently. He said coolly: ‘It might be a pleasant change for you. My aunt will, of course, give you a splendid reference.’

  ‘How kind,’ said Jemima forlornly.

  Her glass was whisked away and she was given red wine with the beef. She sipped it appreciatively. ‘Claret?’ she essayed.

  ‘Indeed yes. Will your duties be the same as those at my aunt’s house?’

  ‘I think very similar.’

  ‘Another old lady?’

  She frowned down at her plate. How persistent he was!

  ‘An elderly couple living in an annexe of their daughter’s house.’ She started to improvise. ‘I shall drive the car for them and that sort of thing.’

  The Professor hid a smile. ‘It only remains for me to wish you every success. Although I can’t think why I should have made such a mistake—I was under the impression that you were going to train for something…’

  Jemima choked over a morsel of potato. ‘Oh, but I am going to, but—
but one has to put one’s name down some months ahead.’ She hunted feverishly for some career she might follow and could think of none on the spur of the moment, and the Professor, watching her telltale face, took pity on her.

  ‘Of course, I hadn’t thought of that. Now what would you like for dessert?’

  ‘An ice cream with chocolate sauce and nuts, please.’

  He ordered it gravely, chose the cheese board for himself and began to talk about nothing in particular. They had their coffee at the table and presently he suggested that she might like to go to bed. ‘I’ll be leaving in the morning—will you have breakfast with me? Is eight o’clock too early for you?’

  ‘No—no, not a bit. Must you go in the morning?’

  ‘Yes, I have some afternoon appointments and an evening engagement.’ With Gloria, thought Jemima, then thanked him nicely for the dinner and wished him goodnight.

  She went to Lady Manderly’s room first. That lady, having dined well, was sitting in her bed reading. She put down her book as Jemima knocked and observed: ‘There you are. I hope Alexander looked after you?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Lady Manderly. Can I do anything for you?’

  ‘No, I think not. I shall stay in bed tomorrow and throw off this cold. You’ll have to go to the hospital and see how Pooley is and arrange for her to come here as soon as possible.’ She nodded dismissal. ‘Come and see me at nine o’clock tomorrow morning, Jemima.’

  Jemima went to her room. She was very sleepy, but she made herself wash her hair and then lay in the bath, dreaming. Such a waste of time, she told herself crossly, falling into bed and almost instantly asleep.

  At least her hair was clean, she decided, looking at her still tired face in the morning. She slapped on some make-up, brushed her hair until it gleamed, took a look out of the window at the dark morning outside, and went down to the dining-room.

  The Professor was already there. His good morning was cheerfully impersonal, as were his queries as to whether she had slept well and how she felt. She had barely reached the toast and marmalade of a substantial meal when he excused himself. ‘I didn’t go and see my aunt last night,’ he explained. ‘I must say goodbye to her now.’

  Somehow it wasn’t what she had expected. After a moment she said: ‘Oh, yes, of course. Well, goodbye, Professor Cator, and thank you for all you’ve done. It must have been most inconvenient.’

  He didn’t answer that, but said carelessly: ‘I’ll see you when you get back.’

  She watched him go; she wouldn’t see him again, she would take care to be gone before then. She went on with her breakfast feeling utterly miserable, wondering what he and his aunt would have to say to each other.

  She would have been surprised.

  ‘We shall see you in London, Alexander.’ Lady Manderly a majestic figure in bed despite her cold and a red nose. ‘I’m not sure what Jemima intends to do—she has several jobs lined up, I believe.’

  ‘She told you that too?’ He was leaning over the end of the bed, smiling a little. ‘It’s a nuisance, but I have to be away for several days, but I doubt if she leaves you immediately. In any case…’ He talked for a few minutes and his aunt nodded in agreement.

  ‘You intend to marry her?’

  He was still smiling. ‘Oh, yes. I find I can’t contemplate life without her.’

  ‘Does she know this?’

  ‘No—I’ve taken great care… She doesn’t approve of me entirely, you see, and she might run away before I can change her mind for her.’ He went round the bed and kissed her cheek. ‘Goodbye, aunt. I shall send Belling up just as soon as the trains are running again. That shouldn’t be long now.’

  Jemima spent a busy morning, which was just as well because she had little time to think about her own problems. Pooley had to be visited, and since the doctor saw no reason why she shouldn’t join Lady Manderly at the hotel, Jemima called a taxi, took her back, engaged a room and went along with her to see Lady Manderly. She left the two ladies together, thoughtfully ordered coffee for them, and went out into the town to buy the things her employer required.

  She liked the town. Its main street bustled with life despite the shocking weather. She worked through her list, had coffee in a pleasant small café, and went back to the hotel, to find Pooley happy once more, repacking Lady Manderly’s cases, tut-tutting over the way the things had been folded, and making plans for borrowing an iron so that everything could be pressed.

  ‘So fortunate that it’s my left arm in plaster,’ she confided to Jemima as they had lunch together. ‘It hardly bothers me at all. My lady says you’re leaving us, miss? When’s that?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Jemima cautiously. ‘I haven’t got a job yet, but I’ve three interviews lined up for when we get back. If you’re going to be busy this afternoon, I’ll take Coco for a walk and then go and sit with Lady Manderly. We can play cards or something.’

  The day passed, and the next. Lady Manderly, cossetted in bed, recovered rapidly. ‘I trust Belling will come shortly,’ she observed to Jemima over tea in her room. ‘I’m fit to travel and I’m told the trains are running again. Alexander saw no reason why we shouldn’t go back to London at the first opportunity.’ She cast a sharp eye upon Jemima. ‘He telephones me each evening.’

  ‘Then I expect Belling will be here tomorrow, Lady Manderly.’ Jemima spoke calmly, but she couldn’t stop the colour creeping into her cheeks at the mention of the Professor’s name.

  Belling arrived that evening quite late. Lady Manderly had already gone to bed, but Jemima was in the hotel lounge reading and he came straight to her. ‘Nice to see you, miss,’ he greeted her. ‘I’ve everything arranged for tomorrow morning, if that can be managed. I believe Professor Cator telephoned Lady Manderly earlier this evening, so she’ll have had warning. You’ll be in London before tomorrow night.’

  ‘How nice to see you too, Belling, and to have everything arranged. Have you a room? Shall I get one for you, and what about something to eat?’

  ‘A room’s been booked for me, miss, and I had a meal before I came here.’

  ‘Then I think I’d better go to bed and pack my things. What time do we leave?’

  ‘Ten o’clock, miss.’ He smiled at her. ‘I’ve arranged for a taxi to take us to the station, if you could manage to get my lady ready to leave.’

  ‘I will. I’ll pop along and see Pooley now. Goodnight, Belling.’

  The return to London went without a hitch. Jemima had been expecting delays, even a train missed because Lady Manderly couldn’t be hurried, but the old lady proved herself quite amenable to being got up at an early hour and conveyed, with Belling, Pooley, and Jemima to sustain her, to the station. Jemima, subsiding into a corner of the compartment which had been booked for Lady Manderly’s sole use, settled Coco on her knee and heaved a sigh of relief. Her companion’s cold was still severe and since she dropped off to sleep very shortly after they left Fort William, Jemima had nothing to do but stare out of the window at the snow outside. But not for long—presently Belling, with a steward at his heels, came with coffee, and later they all went along to the dining car, where Pooley and Belling discreetly disappeared again, and Jemima, with Coco still in tow, shared a table with Lady Manderly, who, at her most amiable, kept up a steady flow of small talk. She dozed again during the afternoon, though, and woke refreshed, when tea was brought with Pooley and Belling trailing it to make sure that they had everything they required. Never had Jemima travelled four hundred and ninety-seven miles in such comfort, nor with such a heavy heart.

  Lady Manderly’s car, with her usual chauffeur, met them at the station and they were driven away without delay, with Coco sitting on Jemima’s knee. Belling and Pooley had taken the luggage and were borne away in a taxi.

  Lady Manderly was silent now and Jemima contented herself with looking out of the window and seeing the business of the lighted streets. She wasn’t very sure of her whereabouts, and presently she frowned in puzzlement. They had reached th
e West End by now, but as far as she could see they weren’t going to Lady Manderly’s house. The car had turned away from its direction and was going north through Portland Place, to turn off into New Cavendish Street and thence into Welbeck Street and then to turn once more into a small quiet street lined with Georgian houses. Here they stopped and Lady Manderly said in satisfied tones: ‘Ah, we are here. Get out, Jemima, and tell Lucas to come back for us in two hours’ time.’

  Mystified, Jemima did as she was told and then, obedient to Lady Manderly’s command, beat a genteel tattoo on the brass door knocker. Like many houses of that type, this one was tall and thin and rather secret, with discreetly curtained bay windows and a black-painted door with a fanlight over it.

  The door was opened almost at once by a very tall, very thin elderly man, who bowed slightly, greeted them with dignity and ushered them into a narrow hall, discreetly lighted, panelled in white-painted wood, and from which several doors led. They were barely inside when one of these doors opened and Professor Cator came out.

  ‘Ah, Aunt—so you’re safely back in London. Mrs Clegg shall take you upstairs. Dinner will be in half an hour; we shall have ample time to have a drink beforehand. You know where the drawing-room is.’ He had kissed her lightly on the cheek, now he smiled briefly at Jemima as an elderly woman came through a door at the end of the hall.

  ‘Good evening, my lady,’ she said pleasantly, and added with a smile: ‘And you, miss,’ and without further ado led the way up the curving staircase, to show Lady Manderly into a bedroom and then open the door next to it and wave Jemima inside. ‘The drawing-room is on the right of the stairs, miss,’ she advised, and went away.

  Jemima sat down on the edge of the bed and took stock of the room. It gave her a chance to settle her pulse rate too; it had shot up at the sight of the Professor and her insides were gyrating. She forced herself to stop thinking of him and concentrated on her surroundings. They were charming—applewood and yew, chintz and a carpet to lose one’s feet in. After a minute or two she got up and opened doors. A bathroom, so perfect it would be a pity to spoil its pristine freshness by taking a bath; a huge clothes cupboard, and another smaller one in which to put one’s luggage, presumably. She washed her face and hands and did her hair, then sat down and did her face very carefully. It didn’t make much difference, she decided, but at least she felt better.