by Jane Arbor
He said savagely, ‘It’s all very well for you and Mother. You can both be well and truly out of it as soon as she’s handed over our quarters to this man’s wife—’
‘Lance!’
It seemed the pain in Verity’s voice got through to him, for he turned. ‘I’m sorry, V.,’ he muttered. ‘That was below the belt. I only meant that you wouldn’t be here to see him new-brooming all over the place and running everything differently from Father. And I’d rather be leaving Clere with you than be forced to watch that and kow-tow to him. What’s more, I’m not starting my “Yes, sir’s” and “No, sir’s” today. In other words, I’m off—now.’
‘Off? What do you mean?’ demanded Verity.
‘Just that. I’m going out. You can make my salaams for me and tell Mother I’ve taken Nash for a walk.’
‘You’re doing nothing of the kind. Nash has had his walk. And how would you propose to get out? They’re talking in the hall.’
‘Who needs the hall? I’ll use the window.’
‘You won’t, you know!’
‘And who’s going to stop me?’
‘I am.’ As he brushed past her Verity caught at his arm. ‘Lance, you can’t. You owe it to Mother—’
‘To lay out the Welcome mat to this fellow? Just how hypocritical can you get!’
‘Just how boorish, you mean! Do you think this is any easier for Mother than for you? If she can put a brave face on it, you can.’
‘Mother isn’t going to mind so much if he really is her Daniel Wyatt, which I’m pretty sure she knows he is. And if that cuts any ice with you too, you’re welcome. But it doesn’t with me, so let me go!’
His hand above Verity’s made to thrust it from his arm, and they faced each other, their eyes as hostile as in a nursery brawl, as the door opened to admit Mrs. Lytton and her guest.
Mrs. Lytton said mildly, ‘Why, children!’
Then she was introducing them; first Lance, who made a slight insolence of straightening his tie before offering his hand, then Verity, who could only stare as Daniel Wyatt looked past Lance at her and told her mother, ‘But we’ve already met.’
‘Met? When? Where? Oh—!’ As she thought she took his meaning Mrs. Lytton’s face broke into a smile. ‘You mean, Daniel, you remember Verity from all that time ago? Oh, surely not? She was only a babe in arms! And though she was the prettiest thing from birth, I think you would have died rather than admit you knew she existed. After all, she was too young to tease and not old enough to play with. So you don’t have to pretend she made an impression, and even she knows it was only your mother’s nonsense and mine that—’
But on the blush-making indiscretion she saw looming, Verity broke in. ‘I don’t think Mr. Wyatt is reminiscing, Mother,’ she said. ‘In fact he and I have met today—while I was out on the shore with Nash.’
‘You have? Well! Though of course without knowing each other. Because you must have guessed, from the time we’ve been gossiping, that he is my Daniel after all? And we’re very happy about that, aren’t we? Lance—you too?’
Hoping it escaped Daniel Wyatt that Lance ignored his mother’s appeal, Verity agreed quickly, ‘Of course,’ adding to their guest, ‘Mother reminded us all about you when Sir Bonham Pearce’s letter came only half an hour ahead of you, giving us no time to check. But did you recognize her when you saw her?’
‘At once. But I was expecting to, you see. Naturally I heard Mr. Lytton’s name when the Governors invited me to follow him as High Master here. So it wasn’t too difficult for my memory to put two and two together, and I should have been very disappointed’—he smiled at Mrs. Lytton—‘if your mother hadn’t proved to have been my mother’s best friend.’
Mrs. Lytton’s face lighted with pleasure. ‘Oh, Daniel, how nice of you! But that you always were.’ Turning to Verity, ‘Dear, we must give Daniel tea before he looks over School. So would you?’ She added to Daniel, ‘We do have one resident maid, Rosa. Or rather, you will have her when you take over, as she goes with the quarters. But it’s her afternoon off. Lance, perhaps you would help Verity?’
In the kitchen Lance ‘helped’ by laying a tray with one cup, one saucer, one spoon at a time. Moodily staring at his handiwork, he asked, ‘How do you mean you met Mr. Perfect on the shore? Did he make the pick-up or did you?’
Verity cut thin bread-and-butter expertly. ‘Neither of us. Nash did. Then, after we had gone on, I realized he had parked his car right in the path of the Eddies as they’re running this month. So I went back to warn him. He didn’t seem quite to believe me, so I left him to it.’
‘Serve him right if he found himself awash,’ grudged Lance, and then, ‘Anything about that story of his that struck phoney—eh?’
‘Phoney?’
‘Yes. Look—wherever he may have been before that, by Sir B’s letter he has been a Professor at Oxford—at Clareville, Mother read out to me—for the past four years. Check?’
Verity nodded. ‘What of it?’
‘Well, can you imagine that in those exalted cliques and in all that time he wouldn’t have heard of Father’s being High Master here, considering some of our sixth-form chaps are going up to Oxford every year?’
‘He mightn’t have, if none of them landed up at Clareville.’
‘Ah but, clever, they did. For instance, Budge Carter went to read History at Clareville, I know. So did Coper and I think Redfern—’
‘Yes, all right.’ Though she believed she knew—‘And what do you want it to prove?’ Verity asked.
‘What it does prove, of course. That long before the Governors offered him the job, he must have known Father was here. So if his pleasure at meeting Mother was genuine, why did he never take the trouble to look us up earlier, while Father was alive?’
Verity made a business of tidying crumbs with the blade of her knife. ‘I don’t know,’ she said slowly.
‘But you admit it’s odd?’
‘A bit. But only the hate you’re working up against him would condemn him just on that.’
‘Thanks. In other words—hands off the paragon! He couldn’t care less about contacting the parents until he got the chance of this plummy job as High, and apparently that’s all right with you and Mother. Could be, I suppose, you rather fancy this idea of having been betrothed to him in your cradle and you’re prepared to go all starry-eyed on the strength of that!’
Verity whirled round. ‘How dare you? I am not “starry-eyed” about him,’ she denied furiously. ‘Talk sense. We’ve always heard about him from Mother and we’ve met him for a few minutes, and I’m happy for Mother, as you ought to be if it’s true Father would have—’
Suddenly she was weeping, angrily dabbing at the stinging tears of desolation as Lance stared, embarrassed, before he plunged to throw his arms round her, contrite as only he could be in the wake of storms of his own making.
‘Oh, V., V., don’t! If that’s how Mother wants it, of course I’m glad for her, and if the man turns out to be a heel, I dare say she needn’t know after you’ve gone—Hey there! Do you mind—that knife is sharp! You couldn’t, you think, keep it just that inch or two away from my throat—no?’
‘Oh, sorry.’ Verity laughed shakily as his forefinger turned aside the breadknife, and they broke apart, both intent on pretending their moment of closeness had not happened.
When they returned to the sitting-room and Verity set the tray before her mother, Mrs. Lytton fingered the china absently, lifted the cosy, but did not pour. Plainly her thoughts were far from mere hostess-ship as she turned shining eyes to meet the question in Verity’s.
‘Verity darling, what do you think? Daniel has just told me something—well, quite wonderful for us. Do you know, he isn’t a married man? Which means he’ll need a housekeeper and a hostess for School until he is, and so he has asked me—us—to stay on. Because he hasn’t a secretary in view either, and he’d like you to continue in your job after all. What do you think of that?’
What did she
think of it? Clere, their immediate future, all the familiar things they knew and loved to be handed back to them instead of being snatched away! That, Verity knew, was how Daniel Wyatt’s offer looked to her mother, and she hadn’t the heart to quench that bubbling relief by a show of lesser enthusiasm. So, her mind ducking away from the doubt that it would not be quite like that; that, though they stayed, Clere would not be the same again, she said with only a beat of hesitation, ‘How—wonderful!’ and was rewarded by Mrs. Lytton’s swift, ‘There, you see, Daniel! I told you how happy this would make her. Because it’s the one thing we’ve been praying for, isn’t it, Verity—that we needn’t leave Clere yet after all?’
‘Yes.’
(Why was that a shade less true now than an hour or two ago? What prejudices against the new regime had she caught from Lance? She had scoffed at Lance’s truculence. Yet here was she too, hackles raised against a disposal of her future which should have made her crow with relief—why? Conscious that Daniel Wyatt would expect more than that flat ‘Yes’ she turned to him.
‘That’s very good news for us, Mr. Wyatt. Mother and I have both dreaded making a new start away from Clere. But I hope you won’t regret taking me on as your secretary, more or less “sight unseen”,’ she smiled.
He rose to take his cup from Mrs. Lytton, then sat again with the characteristic male twitch for the knees of impeccable trousers.
‘That’s a risk I’m prepared to take,’ he said easily. ‘If I shouldn’t find you suit me, I have the remedy in my own hands. But you should, I think, as you must have the rather special demands of the job well taped by now?’
Before Verity could reply, Mrs. Lytton broke in eagerly.
‘Oh, she has. When she had done all the technical stuff at her training college, Robert trained her himself for school work, so you’ll find there’s nothing she can’t handle for you. Over and above routine matters, I mean. Take your parent contacts—Robert used to say he had only to flick a boy’s name at her—say, Brewster or Carmichael—and she could provide a thumbnail sketch of his background from memory, just like that!’
‘Really? How invaluable of her!’
‘Yes, indeed.’ More encouraged than was Verity by the cool comment, Mrs. Lytton warmed to her subject. ‘The staff too—whenever they were a bit diffident about bringing a query straight to Robert, they would use Verity as a kind of go-between. Oh dear, I can hear her father teasing her now—“Well, V., whose cause are you pleading today?” And then, being in demand for as much neighbourhood life as we enjoy around here, she knows nearly everyone who will want to know you, as of course they all will—’
Daniel cut short the flow. ‘Thanks. When I have time to spare to feel the lack of a social sponsor, I’ll remember that. Meanwhile, do you mind—I think I’ll settle merely for a competent secretary?’ he said.
Verity glanced at Lance, saw him scowl and knew he had read into the words the same glacial snub as she had herself. But somehow the man possessed a grave controlled smile which disarmed offence and evidently Mrs. Lytton had taken none.
She said happily, ‘Well, that I’m sure you will have in Verity. Now my own worry is that we can’t make you comfortable here. Let’s see—you’ll take over Robert’s den for your own use, of course. And our spare bedroom has its private bathroom and can be shut off from the main landing, making it a kind of suite. Lance, you understand, doesn’t live with us in term time. He’s in West House—Mr. Dysart’s. But perhaps you won’t mind sharing our dining room with Verity and me?’
‘Of course not, though I’ll probably lunch with the School most days.’
‘Yes, well, so did Robert, except at weekends which he liked to keep for me. Meanwhile, after tea you must see everything. These quarters or School—which first, Daniel?’
Again the slight smile. ‘School, I think, as it’s my major importance. Am I likely to find any of my colleagues at home?’
‘The housemasters? I’m afraid not. Two of them are still away, Mr. Perceval is attending a summer school and the Dysarts are in Norwich for the day. Of course if we’d known you were—But we ... that is, the children can show you round. Lance? Verity, dear?’
But though they both rose as Daniel Wyatt did, his glance slid past Verity to fasten on Lance.
‘Do you mind? I think I’ll take just Lance as my guide,’ he said, the words an order which Lance, after a moment’s truculent stare, obeyed.
Their going left an uneasy silence behind. Then Mrs. Lytton worried, ‘You know, I thought Daniel would be glad to get you young people to yourselves. That’s why I didn’t offer to take him round myself. But he chose Lance so very pointedly, didn’t he? Almost as if he didn’t want you along?’
‘Exactly as if he didn’t,’ Verity confirmed.
‘You felt that too? But why not?’
Verity was pretty sure she knew. (Because, Mother dear, you plugged my virtues so hard that the man’s sales-resistance was sticking out all over!) But since that was too wounding to utter aloud, she said instead,
‘Oh, I suppose he felt that School was more their affair—his and Lance’s’—an idea which Mrs. Lytton accepted until she fretted—‘I do hope Lance will come round to seeing that your father, if he could have known, might well have chosen Daniel to follow him. And as far as you and I are concerned, we couldn’t have asked for better, could we, dear?’
Verity, collecting tea-things and stacking them on the tray, stooped to drop a kiss on her mother’s hair.
‘As long as you’re happy about it, Lance had better “come round”—or else!’ she promised darkly to doubts and misgivings which weren’t Lance’s alone.
For she sensed that Daniel Wyatt already knew all about Lance’s hostility and that he would afford as short shrift to it as he had to her mother’s well-meant pretensions on her behalf.
No, adjusting to the new order of things ahead wasn’t going to be easy for any of them. It wasn’t going to be easy at all...
CHAPTER II
A week later Lance left to spend the last fortnight of the vacation with a party on the Broads and Daniel Wyatt moved in to his Clere quarters.
On the evening of his arrival only Mrs. Lytton welcomed him; Verity was visiting friends in Brancaster. But previously he had written that he would like her to report for duty at nine the next morning and she saw to it that she was in her office—tailored in a slim-skirted shirtwaister and her hair pinned into a pleat—before the school chapel clock struck the hour. As it did so he buzzed her from his study and she went across the hall, needing to quell the slight ‘zero-hour-this-is-it’ nervousness which was tightening her throat.
He stood, his nod seeming to approve her promptitude.
‘Good!’ He drew forward a chair for her, then reseated himself at the desk which had been her father’s, pressing his palms together on its surface.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘I’m going to ask you to brief me on what I can expect you to do for me in your role as my secretary.’
‘Do for you?’
‘Yes. You see, you’re a luxury that’s new to me. And apart from the obvious—making appointments, typing my letters and so on—don’t I understand from your mother that I can look to you for a lot more than that?’
‘Well—’ Flushing at the memory of his snub on the subject, Verity broke off, then continued rather lamely, ‘Well, of course I did take on a good deal extra for my father, but—’
‘Such as?’ he prompted.
But on a flash of spirit she decided he should get the ball back into his court. ‘Perhaps we could wait, could we, until something extra arises?’ she said evenly. ‘I’m afraid I can’t think of a particular example just now.’
There was a moment of silence. Then,
‘Yes, very well,’ he said, and suddenly she felt guilty. She had thought he intended a gibe, when in fact he had really wanted to know something about the human contacts that made her work different and worthwhile; about some of the jobs that called for tact and patience
unstintingly given, not counted in terms of so many overtime hours, paid at such-and-such union rates.
But it was too late now. He was going on,
‘Another point. What name will you answer to when I need you? To your first? Or would you prefer “Miss Lytton”?’
‘Verity, please,’ she told him. ‘Between my not being real staff and being Lance’s sister, I’m sort of “nor good red herring” and nobody ever calls me Miss Lytton.’
‘I see. Then that settled, may we make a start on routine? First, I’d like you to type copies of the following letter to the staff. You’ll see it recalls them three days early. Then at eleven I’ve called a housemasters’ meeting, at which I’d like you to sit in. This afternoon—’
‘This afternoon you have two appointments with parents,’ reminded Verity. ‘You’ll find the times and details in your diary. Mr. Dysart made them for you and asked me to enter them up.’
Daniel Wyatt flipped open the diary in front of him, confirmed the entry. ‘Who has been taking parent interviews up till now? Mr. Dysart as my deputy?’ he wanted to know.
‘Yes.’ It was not the strict truth. More than once, easygoing Nicholas Dysart had passed the task to Verity herself. But sensing that this would not find favour with Daniel Wyatt, she decided against telling him so.
He said, ‘Well, there shouldn’t be many more, within three weeks of term opening. Now, if you’re ready for me to dictate?’
There followed a fortnight of dynamic activity such as Verity had never shared before as Clere’s crisis entailed the pressure of far too many gallons of work into too few pint pots of time. Her own freedom dwindled to meal times and an afternoon hour with Nash on the shore, and Daniel Wyatt appeared to have none. More than once she reflected, ‘If he doesn’t realize now the kind of maid of all work I am!’ But she still felt a stab of guilty regret that, at his invitation, she hadn’t let her enthusiasm for the vagaries of her job shine through. Something told her he would not have snubbed her again. But she had let the chance slip and it had not offered since.
