by Betty Neels
CHAPTER FIVE
LUCILLA reached the hall just as the doctor let himself into his house. ‘Lucilla—what brings you here?’ If she had expected delighted surprise she was to be disappointed. He glanced at the staircase behind her, his eyebrows raised in an unspoken question. ‘Aunt Kate is in the drawing room?’
Lucilla said hurriedly, ‘Yes, I’ve had tea with her—just a passing visit; I hoped you might be here.’
He said quietly, ‘You went to see Matilda?’
‘Is that her name? Yes. The poor thing, she does look ill. She must be so thankful to be well looked after.’
He didn’t answer her, merely opened the drawing-room door for her to go in then closed it behind her and went up the staircase, two at a time.
Tears hardly added to Matilda’s wan looks. When she saw who it was she blew her small red nose, mopped her eyes and said politely, ‘Good evening, Doctor.’
He ignored this poor attempt at polite small talk. ‘You are upset. Lucilla came to see you, did she not? And what had she to say?’
Matilda sniffed. ‘Just—well, you know, the usual things you say to someone when they’re not well.’
‘No. I don’t know, Matilda. Enlighten me?’
He sat down on the side of the bed and took one of her hands in his. It was large and cool and comforting. ‘Well?’
She gulped. ‘I expect I look awful.’ And then she added, ‘It was very kind of Miss Armstrong to come and see me. I hope I haven’t given her any germs.’
‘No, no. The worst is over; you’ll be on your feet in a couple of days.’ Which wasn’t quite true but she needed bolstering up. ‘Several people have asked how you are; you have any number of friends in the village, you know.’
‘Have I? I’m happy here…’ She tugged gently at her hand and he let it go at once. ‘I expect you want to go downstairs and talk to Miss Armstrong; she came specially to see you.’
He got up, looking down at her with a faint smile. ‘Yes, she and I will have a talk. Are you quite comfortable? Do you want Kitty for anything?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve everything I want,’ she told him, reflecting that she would never have that for everything was the doctor, wasn’t it?
Aunt Kate looked up as he went into the drawing room and Sam went to greet him with a waving tail and a happy bark or two. Only Lucilla avoided his look and said nothing.
The doctor sat down, accepted the tea Kitty had brought in and began to talk pleasantly about nothing in particular until Lucilla, at first uncertain as to what he might say about her visit to Matilda, joined in and, sure of her charm and attraction, began to talk about their various friends and acquaintances. She was a clever talker and amusing, but not always kind in her comments. Her companions listened with polite interest and presently the doctor got up.
‘Time for surgery,’ he observed, and thought what a very handsome young woman Lucilla was, sitting there, smiling and now completely at her ease. She was looking at him with smiling expectancy and he had a sudden remembrance of Matilda’s tear-stained face. He went to the door. His, ‘Goodbye, Lucilla,’ was cool and he made no mention of further meetings.
Aunt Kate picked up her knitting once more, looking composed. Henry, she reflected, was no more in love with Lucilla than she herself was. He might have been attracted to her when they’d first met and on the surface she seemed to have everything a man would want in a wife. And she had been clever, saying all the right things at the right time, a pleasant companion, a good-looking, elegant young woman, apparently interested in his work, allowing him to know that she more than liked him but never demonstrating it. Henry wasn’t a man to be hurried but she was content to bide her time. He was a man worth waiting for: from a deeply respected family, with wealth, good looks, a splendid home and a host of influential friends. That he was also a highly qualified medical man was only of secondary interest. Quite unsuitable, decided Aunt Kate.
She went up to see Matilda presently, took one look at her unhappy face, pulled up a chair close to the bed and observed, ‘You’re upset. I dare say Lucilla said something to make you so downcast?’
‘I’m sure she didn’t mean to,’ said Matilda, who, being a clergyman’s daughter, did her best to see good in everybody. ‘And it was quite true.’
‘What was?’ said Aunt Kate, and her beaky nose quivered slightly but her voice was gentle.
‘Well, I’m sure that I do look like a washed-out hag, only I’d rather not be told.’ She was silent for a moment then said, ‘Miss Lovell, I would like to go home. I’m really much better and I’ll be quite all right—if I just have a few days off I could come back to work again quite soon.’
Aunt Kate said decisively, ‘Henry won’t allow that.’
‘No, well, I didn’t think he would, but if you could persuade him? He told me that I would be well in a couple of days.’
‘There is a difference between being well and being fit for work,’ said Aunt Kate. ‘I understand that your mother is delicate. Would she be able to cosset you? Breakfast in bed and making sure that you spent your days being lazy?’
‘Oh, but I shall be fine once I’m home,’ said Matilda in a cheerful voice which belied her seedy appearance. ‘Please, Miss Lovell.’
‘I will promise nothing, my dear, but if Henry should mention the matter I will see what I can do.’
An answer which hardly held much promise but which Matilda found reassuring enough.
Aunt Kate went down to the drawing room presently and when the doctor joined her after the surgery was finished she voiced the thoughts she had been mulling over.
‘Matilda wishes to go home, Henry.’
He had gone to pour their drinks. ‘Well, she can’t; she’s not fit.’
He sat down in his great chair with Sam at his feet. ‘Why?’
His aunt took a sip of sherry. ‘I hesitate to say this, Henry, for I am sure from what Lucilla says that you and she… Anyway, she upset Matilda so that the child feels she must go away.’
‘What did she say? Lucilla is sometimes a little sharp. I know that you wouldn’t tell me unless you thought it might help the matter.’
‘She told Matilda that she was a washed-out hag. You may not know this, but Matilda knows that she is a plain girl and a remark such as that, even if it were meant jokingly, is discouraging to someone not in the best of health.’ Aunt Kate gave him a thoughtful look. ‘And I think, from what she has told me, that there is little chance of her being looked after adequately at home. She is very loyal towards her mother but it is obvious that she can expect very little attention.’
‘Then she must stay here until she is quite well.’
‘I have an idea,’ said Aunt Kate briskly. ‘I shall be delighted to take her home with me for a few days, and when she is quite her usual self she can come back to work. I shall leave it to you to speak to her parents but I imagine her mother will agree without a moment’s hesitation.’
‘Oh, without doubt. You are sure that Matilda wishes to go away from here?’ He frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Yes, dear, and I will tell you why. She neither feels nor looks her best—she wants to go somewhere and hide until she is once more your efficient receptionist.’
He said slowly, ‘If you think that is what she would like we will get her on her feet in a few days and you can take her home with you. Indeed, it is a most sensible idea provided you won’t find it too much of a bother?’
‘No. I shall enjoy her company. You will take her back?’
The doctor looked astonished. ‘Of course. She is a splendid worker; I don’t know how I would have managed without her.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘Besides, she is very restful in her ways and always there when I want her. One hardly notices her and yet she is always there when she is needed.’
Aunt Kate was glad to know that Matilda couldn’t hear him say that…
Matilda, much encouraged by the prospect of going to stay with Aunt Kate, began to recover, and two days later the docto
r declared that she was fit enough to leave his house. Something she was glad to do; shut away in a bedroom with only his two official visits each day had been one thing, but on her feet once more, sitting with Aunt Kate, sharing their meals, she was seeing too much of him for her own peace of mind. She had phoned her mother and since Mrs Paige had declared herself to be feeling poorly Kitty had gone to fetch Matilda some more clothes. She had no idea where Aunt Kate lived but wherever it was it must merit her tweed suit and the blue wool crêpe dress, out of date and seldom worn but entirely suitable in a faceless kind of way for most occasions.
She was surprised to discover that Aunt Kate had her own car, an elderly Jaguar, beautifully maintained and, to Matilda’s eye, hardly suitable for someone of her advanced years to drive. But the doctor, seeing them off after morning surgery, seemed to find nothing strange about it; he even forbore from telling his aunt to drive carefully.
Apart from telling her that she lived near Somerton, Aunt Kate hadn’t volunteered any more information and Matilda didn’t wish to appear inquisitive. That part of Somerset was more or less new to her and she saw quickly enough that they were taking narrow lanes across country and that Aunt Kate drove with the nonchalant ease of a young man. They reached Hatch Beauchamp, drove on to Langport and then turned off the main road to Somerton, into another narrow lane bearing the signpost to High Ham.
The village, a mile or so ahead, was easy to see, perched on top of a hill, queening it over the surrounding flat countryside. And the village itself, when they reached it, was a delight to the eye with old houses gathered round a green and a splendid church alongside. There were one or two shops, a butcher, baker, village stores and post office, and Aunt Kate said as she swept past, ‘We can get all we want here but there are shops at Somerton, only a few miles away.’
She drove down a lane between the houses and stopped before a handsome wrought-iron gate. ‘The garage is at the end of the lane; we’ll go into the cottage first.’
It was a very different cottage from Matilda’s home, built of honey-coloured stone, its slate roof overgrown with moss. The last of the Virginia creeper which covered its walls had long since lost its leaves; in the summer it would be a picture. The windows were small and diamond-paned and its solid wood door would withstand a siege.
Aunt Kate produced a large old-fashioned key from her handbag and opened the door and urged Matilda past her into the hall. It was delightfully warm and through an open door she could see a bright fire burning.
‘Mrs Chubb?’ called Aunt Kate, and an elderly woman came through the door at the back of the hall.
‘There you are, ma’am.’ She shot a glance at Matilda. ‘And the young lady. There’s a good fire burning in the sitting room and there’ll be lunch in half an hour. I’ll fetch in the bags…’
‘Later will do, Mrs Chubb. You’ll be going home presently so wait until you’ve got your coat on. It’s cold this morning.’
‘I’ve put out the sherry and Taffy’s by the fire,’ said Mrs Chubb comfortably, and withdrew to the kitchen.
‘I’ll show you your room,’ said Aunt Kate. ‘Come down again without waste of time, Matilda; we can unpack later on.’
She led the way up a narrow straight staircase to the square landing above and opened one of the doors there. The room was a fair size with a sloping roof and a pretty flowery paper on its walls. The furniture was painted white and there was a thick carpet underfoot and a patchwork quilt on the bed; the bedside lamps had pink shades and there were books, a biscuit tin and a tiny nosegay of violets on one of the bedside tables.
‘The bathroom is next door, my dear, but do come down as soon as you’re ready.’
Matilda, left alone, stood looking around her. The room was delightful; she knew that she would sleep peacefully in it and getting up in the morning would be a joy. And perhaps here she would be able to come to terms with herself, face the fact that to the doctor she was no more than someone who worked for him, someone whom he had considered it his duty to look after when she got the flu. He had been kind and concerned for her but it was Lucilla he intended to marry and she could quite understand why—any man would fall in love with those blonde good looks.
‘But she won’t make him happy,’ Matilda told her pasty reflection as she powdered her nose. ‘She’s spiteful and most unkind. Not to him, of course…’
She went downstairs and went rather shyly into the sitting room. Aunt Kate was there, sitting by the fire, a large ginger cat curled up on her lap.
‘Come in, child. As you can see I can’t get up with Taffy already asleep. He is so glad to have me home again. Will you pour us both a sherry? Come and sit down by the fire. You like your room?’
‘It’s charming, and what a big garden you have—I looked out of the window.’
‘I enjoy gardening. Bob from the village does all the hard work, of course. And whenever Henry comes he advises me. He has rather a splendid garden behind his house. I dare say you’ve seen it?’
‘Only briefly. I usually go in through the waiting-room door and leave the same way.’
‘A lovely old place; you must get him to show you round it some time.’
A remark which needed only a polite murmur in response.
They lunched together presently: homemade vegetable soup, cheese omelettes, warm rolls and farm butter. Aunt Kate drank mineral water but Matilda was given a glass of milk.
‘You need fattening up, child,’ said Aunt Kate.
‘That she does,’ observed Mrs Chubb, removing plates. ‘Thin as a sparrow and washed out. Nasty thing, this flu.’ She beamed at them both. ‘Send you back with colour in your cheeks, we will, won’t we?’
‘We will indeed, Mrs Chubb.’
It was impossible not to get better, reflected Matilda a few days later. On the one hand there was Aunt Kate, taking her for brisk walks, well wrapped up so that she went back to the house glowing, to spend happy hours going round the cottage with her hostess, looking at its treasures: its antique furniture, the silver displayed in the little bow-fronted cabinet, the paintings of long-dead Lovells on the walls.
‘Of course Henry has most of them,’ said Aunt Kate, ‘and his mother has a very nice collection.’
Matilda wondered where that lady lived but didn’t like to ask.
And on the other hand Mrs Chubb was determined to do her part in sending Matilda back a credit to her splendid cooking. Between the two ladies Matilda blossomed into pink-cheeked plumpness. She had been there for five happy days when she said, ‘Miss Lovell, I love being here but I’m quite well again and I ought to go back to work. And Mother must be needing me at home; she’s had to manage by herself for too long.’
Aunt Kate’s beaky nose quivered—another woman would have sniffed.
‘I am loath to let you go, Matilda. Henry suggested that you should stay a week and I respect his judgement. So we will enjoy another two days together, my dear. And now that you feel quite recovered I thought that we might go to Somerton tomorrow—there are one or two shops there and you have had no chance to spend your money. We might see a pretty dress. You always look nice, but one can never have enough clothes at your age.’
There was money in Matilda’s purse: two weeks’ wages and the overtime money that the doctor had insisted on paying her. She said now, ‘I need a new raincoat…’
‘No, Matilda,’ said Aunt Kate decisively, ‘you need a pretty dress. Sooner or later Mr Right, as my nanny always called him, will come along, and although he will certainly love you in a shabby mackintosh you will want to look your best.’
‘I don’t know any Mr Right!’ said Matilda.
‘That’s what makes life so exciting—never knowing if he may be round the next corner.’
‘Well,’ said Matilda, ‘if I see something I like…’
They went the next morning and after they had had coffee in a stylish little café Aunt Kate led the way to a boutique in a lane just off the main street.
‘Henry’s
sisters often go here,’ she told Matilda. ‘Don’t look at the prices in the window; there’s a splendid selection of clothes inside at most reasonable prices.’
She led the way in and was met by a stout little woman who wished them good morning. She and Aunt Kate had had an interesting conversation already that morning and since Aunt Kate was a good customer she had agreed to alter the price tickets if the young lady decided to buy anything.
And, taking a look at Matilda’s good tweed suit, not only out of date but not warm enough for the time of year, she could see that new clothes were a necessity.
‘I want a dress,’ said Matilda. ‘Something that won’t go out of date too soon, something I could wear for a formal occasion.’ Was meeting Mr Right a formal occasion? she wondered, and smiled at the thought so that the sales lady decided that, properly dressed, she would look pretty…
There was a splendid choice and well within her budget. She chose a silk jersey top and skirt in a deep pink which gave her mundane features a glow, and, since she was assured that it was half price as it was a small size and unlikely to sell easily, she allowed herself to be helped into a winter coat. It was grey and of a slightly military cut, and had, said the sales lady, been bought by a customer who had decided that she didn’t like it once she got it home. Since it had been worn once, it would have to be sold at a very reduced price or go into the January sale. So if the young lady didn’t mind?
The young lady was delighted. True, she was almost penniless, but she had been paying in most of her wages into her father’s account and as far as she knew there were no big bills outstanding.
They left the shop presently and took the dress boxes to the car.
‘What marvellous luck,’ said Matilda. ‘It’s like a miracle, Miss Lovell.’
And worth every penny, reflected Aunt Kate, looking at Matilda’s happy face.
They had lunch at a hotel in the main street and then spent a short time looking in the shop windows. And in one of the small shops there was exactly the hat to go with the new coat. And that accounted for the last money in Matilda’s purse. But there would be another pay day in a week’s time, and if her mother needed anything Christmas wasn’t so far off; there would be presents to buy…