by Betty Neels
There were two cars waiting for them, a large estate car and a small Fiat. Deborah, the children, the luggage and Mr Burns travelled in the first, Mrs Burns followed them with her mother comfortably installed in the back of the Fiat. The party took some time to get settled and it was by now the hottest part of the day and they had an hour’s drive before them; but so far everything had gone smoothly and the clear blue sky and the sunshine gave promise of pleasant times ahead. As an added bonus the twins fell asleep as soon as they started, curled up against Deborah. What with their small warm bodies pressed to hers, and Dee on her lap, she grew hot and rather sticky. Probably her nose was shining and her hair a mess but at least her dress looked fresh and cool. She sat very still, and since Mr Burns spoke only occasionally, admired the scenery.
There were mountains in the distance, tree covered, sweeping down to orange groves and vineyards and fields of stunted olive trees, and every few miles a village—a narrow street lined with small square houses with shuttered windows and when a door was open she could glimpse inside, black emptiness. Of course, there would be furniture there and people, but they weren’t visible. There were dogs too, lying round in the dust, taking no notice of anyone, sensibly asleep like everyone else. The sea was on their left but it was some miles away although there were frequent signposts pointing seawards, but for the moment Deborah was quite content to marvel at the oranges and lemons and the brilliance of the flowers. There was a good deal of traffic on the road, but they travelled fast, Mr Burns explaining over one shoulder that once they had arrived everyone must have a rest before unpacking. Deborah agreed cheerfully, well aware that the twins, refreshed by their nap, would want to be up and doing, and since she had been hired as their nanny it would be her duty to keep them from disturbing everyone. She began to plan various forms of entertainment calculated to keep them as quiet as possible.
‘We’re almost there,’ said Mr Burns suddenly and turned the car off the road on to a narrow winding lane leading to the sea. Sure enough, she could see the coast now, high cliffs and sparkling water and here and there a red roofed white painted villa tucked away behind the trees growing thicker on either side of them. They drove past them all though and didn’t stop until the sea was only a few hundred yards away down below, and they turned into a sandy drive leading to a handsome villa surrounded by a garden stuffed to choking point with flowers.
‘We’ve been here before,’ explained Mr Burns, ‘there’s a swimming pool round the back and steps down to the beach.’ He stopped before the wide porch and got out. ‘I’ll carry these two in first—nice if they stay asleep for a bit longer. Can you manage Dee?’
She, following him inside, had Dee under one arm and wondered whose car it was parked beside the house and then forgot it while she admired the cool splendour of the hall; terra cotta tiles and white plastered walls and beautiful rugs and some rather uncomfortable looking chairs around the walls. She followed Mr Burns upstairs and discovered that there was a small dark woman ahead of them, leading the way. ‘You’ll be here,’ Mr Burns told her and went in in front of her into a high-ceilinged room with closed shutters and a bed with an ornately carved head board; there were doors on either side, a bathroom and the children’s room, shuttered against the heat. He lowered the still sleeping twins on to one of the beds and rubbed his arms. ‘They are getting heavy,’ he observed and glanced at Dee. ‘She’s due for a feed, isn’t she? There’s some made up in the car in the freezer bag, isn’t there? I’ll fetch it for you and ask Maria to send you up a tray of tea and something cold for the children when they wake. With luck you’ll have time to shower and change before they rouse. Can you cope? Peggy will see to Mrs Beaufort and have a rest and we can have dinner when the children are in bed.’
Deborah said that of course she could manage, in her serene voice and added: ‘If the children wake can we go into the garden? We’ll stay in the shade and they can make more noise outside.’
‘A good idea. Mrs Beaufort will rest I expect, but Peggy and I will be around in a couple of hours.’
Deborah inspected the room while she waited for her tea; it was pleasantly cool and dim and the furniture was of dark wood and very simple. There were a few rugs on the tiled floor and a gaily coloured bedspread. She approved of what she saw, just as she approved of the bathroom and the simply furnished room the children were in. She unpacked her overnight bag and called a quiet ‘come in’ when someone knocked on the door. It was Maria, unsmiling and polite, bearing a tray with a welcome teapot and a plate of little cakes and following hard on her heels, Mrs Burns.
‘Nanny, can you manage for a bit? I’m putting Mother to bed and I’m going to lie down for an hour. This evening we’ll work out some kind of time table between us.’
‘Everything is fine, Mrs Burns. I expect Mrs Beaufort’s pretty tired—let me know if I can help in any way. I expect we’ll go outside once the twins wake. I’ll get Dee fed and changed and take her with us in the carry-cot.’
Mrs Burns disappeared looking relieved and Deborah drank the teapot dry and then, with one eye on the twins, had a quick shower and changed into a cotton dress. Just in time, they woke together, demanded drinks and wanted to know where they were and what they were going to do. Deborah told them while she fed Deirdre, put them into cotton shirts and shorts, rubbed their small plump persons with lotion and suggested that they should creep downstairs and into the garden. It was cooler now and she opened the shutters and then, with Dee asleep in her carry-cot and the twins trotting behind her, went downstairs. She had slapped lotion on as much of her as she could reach and tied her hair back with a ribbon. They crossed the hall silently and went out through the open door. The first thing she saw was Professor Beaufort, leaning up against an orange tree, one arm flung round the thin shoulders of a girl of ten years or so.
She stood gaping at him, her gentle mouth a little open, while the twins made a concerted rush to wind their arms round his legs, their voices shrill with delight.
‘Hush,’ she whispered fiercely, ‘don’t disturb everyone.’ He said ‘Hullo Nanny. Not that you look in the least like one at the moment. Did we surprise you? Shock is perhaps the better word… This is my daughter Eleanor, we arrived yesterday.’
Deborah smiled, said hullo and wondered why she suddenly felt depressed. Eleanor, giving her a rather shy smile, looked at her with her father’s blue eyes. She was a pale child and later on she would be pretty with all that fair curly hair tumbling around her shoulders. She said in a voice as shy as her smile: ‘Shall I show you the garden and the way down the steps to the beach?’
‘Would you? Simon and Suzy can’t wait to see everything,’ Deborah grinned. ‘Me too,’ she added honestly. She supposed that Eleanor would join the nursery party and leave the professor and his wife free, and after all one more child didn’t make all that difference and she was old enough to help with the twins if they became too boisterous.
The professor waved them a casual goodbye and went to the house and she found that her depression was strongly mingled with pleasure at seeing him again, which, considering she didn’t like him in the very least, seemed strange. She wondered what his wife would be like and then pushed all thought of that to the back of her head so that she could give her attention to the children, capering along each side of Eleanor; they liked her, that was obvious. Deborah, with Dee awake for once and peering contentedly from her basket, followed them along a path bordered by a tangle of flowers and shrubs, which ended at a vast expanse of lawn and at one side a swimming pool. The twins instantly demanded to get into it and indeed Deborah eyed its cool blue water with longing, but she pointed out with cunning that she had nothing with her no towels, no swim suits…
‘We don’t need swim suits,’ declared Simon.
‘No, love but I do,’ she pointed out reasonably, ‘and you can’t go in without me. Look, it’s getting on for bedtime anyway. Shall we put everything ready for the morning and come here before breakfast?’ She glanced at
Eleanor and smiled, and the girl said: ‘I’ll come too, please, Nanny.’
‘Of course. I’ll ask Mummy if she will have Dee for half an hour.’ She pretended not to see Simon’s turned down mouth, and said briskly: ‘Now what about that path down to the beach? Is it close by, Eleanor?’
The path was really a gentle zigzag of easy steps, ending on warm yellow sand; a small cove, sheltered by rocks on either side and no one else in sight. ‘May we paddle?’ asked Eleanor, ‘I’ll take care of the twins. It’s quite safe here; Daddy and I went swimming this morning…’
Deborah perched on a handy rock by the water’s edge, her hand on Dee’s basket, and watched them with envy. The water was a clear, bright blue, she would have liked to have torn off her clothes and swum for hours. Perhaps, when they had settled in, Mrs Burns would tell her when she could be free, so that she could spend her leisure here, swimming and lolling around; wearing a sunhat, of course, and even that wouldn’t stop the freckles. Not that anyone was likely to notice them.
They all wandered back presently, the twins quite content after their paddle, Dee asleep again and Eleanor, now that she had got over her shyness, full of plans for picnics and outings and a trip along the coast in one of the fishermen’s boats. Deborah, listening with only half an ear, knowing her role from previous experience. Dee was too small to take on such trips; she remembered the countless times she had been left at home with a baby or a toddler while everyone else made off joyfully, intent on a day out. After all, she reminded herself, it was her job, that was what she was paid for.
They found the others on the patio, lounging in comfortable chairs, with a tray of iced drinks on the table between them. Mrs Burns beamed at them all: ‘There you are my dears. Have they been good, Nanny? Now it’s supper for you and then bed, we’ve had a long day.’
Deborah looked away from the tempting contents of the glass jugs on the table; she longed for a cool drink but if the children were to have their supper it was unlikely that she would get one.
‘Nanny needs a drink,’ observed the professor, and got up out of his lounger. ‘I’m going to take the children to see the kittens in the garage while she has it.’
He collected the three of them, picked up Dee out of her basket and deposited her on her mother’s lap, and waved Deborah to a seat, while Mr Burns got up and poured a drink for her. She sat down, feeling awkward, like a gate-crasher, and watched the professor wandering off with his party.
‘He’s marvellous with the children,’ declared Mrs Burns, ‘and Eleanor gets on so well with the twins—you won’t mind if she tags along with you, Nanny?’
‘Not in the least, Mrs Burns—she’s a sweet little girl and the twins adore her don’t they? What a heavenly place this is.’
‘Mmm we’ve been coming here for years. Have you all you want in your room? Do say if you need anything else. There’s Maria, who housekeeps for us and two girls who come in each day—they’ll see to the rooms and the beds and the washing. Mother will have to take things easily for a bit, but we’ll get into a routine in a day or two. Once the children are in bed and we’ve had dinner, we’ll put our heads together and work something out.’ She turned her head to watch her brother and the children coming through the garden and Deborah got up, picked up Dee from her mother’s lap and stood waiting for them.
‘Supper’s in the dining room,’ said Mrs Burns, ‘and there’s plenty of hot water for baths, you’ll be all right with Dee? She can sit on your lap…’
The professor had handed over the children unfussily, now he took the baby from Deborah and tucked her under one arm. ‘Dee hasn’t spoken to me yet—she shall sit with me until the children have finished their supper.’ And he sat down with the infant, leaving Deborah to shepherd her charges into the house, sit them at table in the richly dark oak and leather dining room, and serve them their suppers. Eleanor sat with them explaining that when she was on holiday with her father she usually had her supper with him, but if Deborah didn’t mind, she’d have it now and help her with the twins. ‘Then perhaps I can help you to unpack,’ she suggested.
Deborah smiled at her; she was a nice child and perhaps not quite as happy as she should be, she was too quiet for a start. Deborah wondered about her mother and hoped that someone would tell her sooner or later where she was, or if she were alive. No one had mentioned her.
She was to know soon enough. Two hours later, with the twins fast asleep, Dee fed and tucked up and herself in an Indian cotton dress and wearing a little more make-up than usual, she went downstairs. Mrs Burns had said dinner at half-past eight and it wanted five minutes to that hour. In the hall she paused, not quite sure where to go; she couldn’t hear voices, only the faint clash of pots and pans from the kitchen part of the house. Perhaps it would be better if she went back to her room and waited for a gong. She turned on her heel and the professor said from somewhere behind her: ‘No, don’t go back to your room. The others aren’t down yet—come and have a drink.’
He led the way outside, offered her a chair and went to the tray of drinks set ready. ‘Something long and cool?’ he suggested. ‘I do hope Eleanor hasn’t been a nuisance…’
‘Of course not,’ Deborah heard her voice a bit too loud and indignant, ‘she’s such a nice child and a great help with the twins. When they were in bed she helped me unpack. She’s in bed herself now, reading.’
‘Yes, I know, I’ve been up to see her.’ He gave her a long considered glance over his glass. ‘I’m glad that you get on well together. You have been wondering about her mother?’
‘Yes,’ said Deborah baldly.
‘She died six years ago; she left us a year previously. Eleanor doesn’t remember her. She has a governess; a nice old fashioned maiden lady who conceals a clever brain under a mild exterior, her name is Miss Timmis.’
‘She’s not here?’
‘No, she’s having a well earned holiday. Which is what we are all having with the exception of yourself Deborah.’
She overlooked the Deborah and said a little tartly: ‘I take my holidays between jobs, Professor Beaufort.’
‘You must have the constitution of an ox and the temper of an angel.’
She looked away from him. ‘What a curious mixture you must find me, professor, a gorgon with a mouth like a rat trap, and ox—a strong ox—with an angelic temper.’
He said blandly: ‘You forget the sandy hair and the green eyes, they all add up to something quite out of the ordinary.’
She looked at him then and found him smiling. ‘They add up to a children’s nurse,’ she told him soberly.
They dined presently in a leisurely fashion on melon soaked in port wine, lulas recheadas (which after she had eaten it Deborah discovered was squid embellished with egg yolk and tomatoes), ham and onion, a salad and pudim fla which she had no difficulty in recognising as egg custard. There was little time to talk before it was time to give Dee her feed; over coffee Mrs Burns suggested a flexible routine to be gone into thoroughly later on. ‘Meals all together,’ she suggested, ‘but the children will wake early, Nanny, perhaps you could let them play in the garden—the nursery’s overlooking the lawn isn’t it? You could keep an eye on them while you see to Dee?’
Deborah had reservations about that, the twins needed two eyes on them all the time, that was something she would have to work out for herself. She murmured politely and Mrs Burns went on: ‘Breakfast at half-past eight; Mother will have hers in her room, then we can all do our own thing until lunch time. Lunch at half-past twelve and the children must rest for a couple of hours unless we’re picnicking, of course. You must have some free time—perhaps after tea for an hour or two? If the children have their supper at half-past six, that would give you time to go for a swim or write those letters or something. I daresay we shall go out quite a lot once we’re rested—we won’t always be able to take Dee—you won’t mind being here with her? Maria will look after you, of course.’ Mrs Burns smiled suddenly: ‘It’ll give you a break from th
e twins—isn’t it a blessing that Dee’s such a placid child?’
Deborah smiled and agreed, ‘But if I don’t give her a feed, she won’t be placid at all,’ she observed, and made a quiet exit, rather surprised when the professor got up and opened the door for her. Without saying anything though.
Dee was an easy baby; Deborah popped her back into her cot, undressed and showered, wrote a brief letter to her mother, took a final look at the twins and Eleanor in the little room across the passage, and then got into bed. A busy day, she reflected, and probably all the other days to come would be just as busy. It had been thoughtful of the professor to take the children off her hands for a few minutes; she still didn’t like him of course, but perhaps she didn’t dislike him quite as much, and she was sorry for him, poor man, with no wife and a child to bring up. She wondered about his wife and why she had left him and Eleanor—perhaps he was a tyrant in his own home…she slept on the thought.
She awoke to warm sunshine and the sound of a nearby church bell chiming six o’clock. The twins were still asleep but Dee was waking. Deborah fed her, changed her and put her back in her cot and got dressed herself. A swim in the pool would be heaven—but quite impossible. She tied her hair back, slipped bare feet into sandals and found the twins awake and demanding to go out at once. They had the same idea that she had: to get into the pool and she had to explain why they couldn’t, but no amount of explaining helped! She wrestled them into shorts and cotton tops and was brushing two tousled heads when the door was opened and Eleanor put her head round. ‘I heard you,’ she said. ‘May I come with you?’