by Betty Neels
He got up and went to the door. ‘Sleep all you can, you had a nasty shock.’
He had gone, leaving her to lie there quite deflated by his impersonal manner. But it was impossible to stay that way; her aunt and Mrs Snook, bearing a splendid breakfast between them, came back again and stayed there making sure that she ate a sizeable portion of it.
Only then was she permitted to take a bath and put on one of her own nightgowns to come back to a freshly made bed and her aunt waiting with two pills and a glass of water.
‘Jake says you are to take these, dear.’
‘I don’t need them,’ Charity slid under the soft light blankets.
‘That’s not for you or me to say,’ said Aunt Emily with unexpected firmness. ‘If Jake says you are to take them, then you’ll do so, Charity.’ And, when Charity had reluctantly swallowed them, ‘Now you will have another nice nap and Mrs Snook will bring you a nice hot drink presently. Such a good woman—Jake has two treasures in her and Snook. And this is a beautiful house.’ Aunt Emily bent and kissed her niece, something she seldom did. ‘Dear child—how thankful your father and I are that Jake saw you…’
Charity went to sleep again to wake and find Mrs Snook’s kindly face looking down on her. ‘I came up with your coffee, but you were so sound asleep. Now there is a nice bit of lunch for you. Just let me shake up those pillows.’
So Charity sat up obediently and, when her lunch came, ate it up, protesting that she was perfectly able to get up and go home.
‘Yes, dear, and I’m glad you feel more the thing, but we must wait and see what Jake says.’ Aunt Emily removed the tray, smoothed the sheets and advised her to have another nice rest. ‘And I’ll bring you a cup of tea in an hour or two.’
Charity watched the door close behind her aunt and looked at her watch. It was barely two o’clock; the household, she guessed, would take a rest for an hour or so. She got out of bed, frowning a little at the pain around her eye. But that didn’t stop her from exploring the room.
It was a charming place with its magnificent mahogany bed and a sofa table of the same wood in the bay window. There was a triple mirror on it and Charity went to have a look. It was worse than she had thought; they had given her a patch to put over her eye but the skin around it was a rich purple. No makeup, of course, and her hair in a tangle of curls. A real fright. She pulled a hideous face at her reflection and went on with her exploring. There was a tallboy against one wall and a door beside it. It led to the bathroom she had used earlier that day and had hardly noticed; now she examined it at her leisure: its pearly-pink tiled walls and matching bath, its piles of matching towels, the bowl of soaps, the bath essences and powders.
‘Luxury,’ said Charity and wandered back into the bedroom. There were a couple of small easy-chairs with lamp-tables beside them, and along the remaining wall there were sliding doors. She opened one and saw the vastness of the wardrobe behind them. A far cry from her own room at home. She closed the door again and padded over to the window. It was raining; a grey dripping day, hardly calculated to raise her spirits. Perhaps bed wasn’t such a bad idea; she started toward it and then halted abruptly as there was a tap on the door and the professor walked in.
He shut the door behind him and stood leaning against it. ‘Well, well. Feeling rebellious?’ He studied her at his leisure and she turned her back on him, very conscious of the black eye. ‘No need to do that, Charity. Yours isn’t the first black eye I’ve seen. Get back into bed, there’s a good girl.’
He spoke in his usual placid manner but she knew that he meant it. She nipped across the expanse of thick cream carpet and jumped into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She regretted this at once; all that rushing about had started up the ache in her face again.
‘Silly girl,’ said the professor. But he said it in a voice that belied the words. He drew a chair up to the bed and took her hand. ‘I’ll make myself quite clear. You’ll stay in bed for the rest of the day, tomorrow you may get up and you will stay here, doing nothing. On the day after that you may go home.’
‘When can I come back to work?’
‘That is something we’ll talk about in a day or two. You can hardly show that eye to my patients; they’ll think I beat you and I’ll lose my practice!’
She chuckled, comfortably drowsy, content to lie quiet with her hand tucked in his. Presently her eyelids closed. An hour later Aunt Emily, creeping softly in, was surprised to find them both asleep, still holding hands. She heaved a sigh of pure pleasure and crept away again. When later the professor presented himself in his sitting room to join her for tea, she greeted him with an air of pleased surprise and the remark that it was nice that he had been able to get home for tea.
Charity got up the next day after the professor had pronounced her eye to be making good progress. The swelling was subsiding and she was able to open it and peer through the narrow slit. ‘You’ll wear the eyeshade for another few days,’ said the professor. ‘Your eye had quite a blow and needs a rest. Potter around the house today—go where you like, only don’t disturb anything on my desk.’ He gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder and went away. It was the professor who had said that; Jake—the Jake of their shopping and skiing—had gone. For good, probably, she told herself as she dressed.
She spent the day with Aunt Emily and the Snooks in devoted attendance. She had speculated about living in comfort—no, in luxury—and now she was experiencing it. Very nice, too, but without Jake it meant nothing at all. She ate the delicious lunch Snook set before them and then wandered round the house, admiring the portraits on its walls and running an appreciative finger along the lovely old furniture, picturing him living there with his Brenda. It was like a knife turning in a wound and did no good at all.
He didn’t return until the evening, in time to join them for drinks before dinner. Charity, asked one or two tentative questions about how they were managing without her at the consulting rooms, but somehow she was fobbed off and the conversation was gently turned to general topics.
They went back to the drawing room for coffee and while Aunt Emily was pouring it the telephone rang. The professor lifted the receiver of the extension by his chair, said, ‘Wyllie-Lyon here,’ and listened. Beyond a grunt or two he said nothing until the speaker had finished.
‘I’ll come right away,’ he said briefly and got up from his chair.
‘I’m afraid they want me at Augustine’s. I’ll be leaving first thing in the morning so I’ll bid you good night. There is no reason why you shouldn’t go home tomorrow, Charity, but if you would like to do so, I should be delighted for you both to stay as long as you wish.’
Aunt Emily broke into speech. Of course they would go home the next day; she was anxious to take up the reins of her own household again. Besides, there was the Fancy Fair in a week’s time. And they could never thank Jake sufficiently for his kindness and hospitality.
To all of which he listened with a grave courtesy before turning to Charity. ‘And you will keep the shade on, Charity, and continue the treatment.’
‘Yes. Oh, yes I will, but I can come back to work, can’t I? The day after tomorrow? My eye is so much better…’
He lifted a finger and stroked her cheek gently. ‘You will do as I say, my dear. There is no need to rush things, we are managing very well.’
He glanced round to where Aunt Emily was bent over her knitting. He pulled Charity through the door into the hall and closed it behind him.
‘I shall miss you,’ he said softly.
He put his hand on her shoulders and when she looked up at him kissed her slowly. She stared into his face, her heart hammering against her ribs so that she had no breath. All the same, the words came tumbling out before she could stop them.
‘I’ll miss you, too, Jake.’ And, when he smiled, ‘You know, don’t you? You know that I love you?’ She added wildly, ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you. I suppose because I can’t keep it a secret any longer…’
The front door opened and Snook crossed the hall. ‘I’ve brought your car round, sir, seeing that it was the hospital phoning.’
Jake nodded. ‘Thanks, Snook. Don’t wait up. I’ll let myself in. I’ll leave just after seven o’clock tomorrow.’ He included Charity and Snook in his quiet good night as he left the house, his face quite impassive.
Charity stood mute. She would have given anything to have left unsaid the words she had just uttered. Before long she was going to feel awful about it, and there was the little matter of seeing Jake again. Presently she asked, ‘How did you know that it was the hospital, Snook?’
‘The calls come through to the kitchen, miss, and I switch them through to wherever the professor happens to be.’
She nodded. ‘Is the professor going away again?’
‘Only to Birmingham to give a lecture, miss. He will be back again late tomorrow.’
‘We’ll be gone.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that miss. Me and Mrs Snook have enjoyed looking after you and Miss Graham.’
‘Thank you, Snook.’ She mustered a smile. ‘I’m going to bed. I’ll just say good night to my aunt.’
Aunt Emily was disposed to chat. ‘Since we’re going home tomorrow I think I will go directly after lunch, dear, and do some shopping. You can stay home and have a rest.’
‘Of course, Aunty, but I think I’ll not go rushing back with you after lunch. I’ve not had any exercise for a couple of days; I’ll walk part of the way and get a taxi back when I’m tired. I really do need the fresh air.’
‘Yes, dear, probably you are quite right, although you look very flushed.’
She proffered a cheek for Charity’s kiss and picked up her knitting again.
She packed her overnight bag in the morning and after lunch waved goodbye to her aunt and a rather puzzled Snook. She had had to explain to him about getting some fresh air and he hadn’t looked entirely convinced. He would have liked her to have gone with them, or at least gone back to the professor’s house after her walk and allowed him to drive her home.
She wished Mrs Snook goodbye, put on her outside things, tied a scarf on her head to cover the eye patch as much as possible, and left the house.
It was only a short walk to the consulting rooms. She opened the street door and went along to the waiting room and went inside.
Mrs Kemp’s head appeared round the half open door of the consulting room. ‘Charity! Hallo, dear…’ She sounded flustered and the look of consternation on her face led Charity to say half laughing, ‘Well, don’t look so shattered—it’s only me. I’m on my way home and I couldn’t resist coming in to see the pile of work waiting for me.’
‘Well,’ said Mrs Kemp, ‘I don’t know…’ She stood back and let Charity go past her, through the consulting room to her own office. There was someone sitting at her desk typing. A not very young woman with a friendly face. She looked up as Charity came to a surprised halt and smiled uncertainly.
‘Oh, I expect the professor got a temp—he didn’t say, but he told me you were managing without me. Well, I’ll be back in a couple of days now.’ She went right up to the desk and held out her hand. ‘I’m Charity Graham.’
‘Mrs Marks. How do you do. I’m sorry about your eye.’
There was a silence which Mrs Kemp broke. ‘Will you have a cup of tea, Charity? The professor is away until tomorrow.’ She hesitated. ‘Look dear, there is no reason why you shouldn’t know—I expect he has been too busy to tell you.’ She gave Mrs Marks an imploring look and that lady went on, ‘I’m sure he forgot and perhaps he didn’t know that you would be coming here. You see, I’m to replace you.’ She saw the look on Charity’s face and said quickly. ‘Please don’t be too upset. He told me that he was making changes in the office and asked me to take over from you. Perhaps he has something else lined up for you.’
Charity said in a stiff little voice. ‘Yes, perhaps he has.’ The bottom had just dropped out of her world; she wanted to run to the furthermost part of the country and jump off the edge. She had gone white, but now she felt the colour flooding her face. To have told Jake that she loved him, and all the time he had known that someone else was doing her work. He must have wanted to get rid of her and the black eye had given him just the excuse he needed. Her daydreams had turned into a nightmare. Her own silly fault for imagining even for a moment that he liked her; it had been nothing but kindness on his part. Well, she would save them both the embarrassment of meeting again. She took a steadying breath. ‘Mrs Kemp, be a dear and give the professor a message from me, will you? He said something about having another look at my eye, but I’m going away for a week or two…’
‘But you said… You thought you were coming back,’ said Mrs Kemp.
‘Oh, yes, I know,’ Charity lied valiantly, ‘but the professor told me not to hurry back and now there is no need anyway. I’m planning to visit some cousins in the country—I can go to their doctor.’ She summoned a smile. ‘I must go, my aunt’s expecting me home for tea.’
She shook hands and wished them all the best in a bright voice and made a remark or two to Mrs Kemp about her two boys as she walked to the door.
She walked all the way home and Aunt Emily took one look at her and said, ‘My dear Charity, what have you been doing? You look terrible.’
‘I’m a little tired. If you don’t mind I’ll go to bed. I’ll just say hallo to Father.’
Ready for bed, she remembered something she had to tell Aunt Emily. She pattered downstairs and into the kitchen, accepted the bowl of soup that lady urged upon her and said as casually as was possible, ‘If the professor should come or phone, will you tell him that I’ve gone away? That you don’t know when I’ll be back.’ She spooned scalding soup into a mouth which was unsteady. ‘I don’t want to talk about it, Aunt Emily, but I can’t—simply can’t—see Jake again.’
She abandoned the soup and made for the door where she turned to say in a voice which didn’t sound like hers at all, ‘He has sacked me—there is someone else doing my work.’
She fled before her aunt could say a word.
The three days which followed were the longest she had ever lived through. Her eye was open again but still ringed with yellow and green; there was no point in trying to get another job until she looked normal again. And the professor neither called nor telephoned. Happy to have his problems solved for him, she thought bitterly, and plunged into a welter of knitting for the Fancy Fair in two days’ time. If things had been different, she thought sadly, I’d have been knitting this ridiculous woolly cap for Jake junior. She sniffed away the threat of tears, added it to the pile waiting to be priced and cast on stitches for another matinée jacket.
It was a relief that her aunt made no effort to discover what had gone wrong; indeed, she talked about everything else under the sun, never once mentioning the fact that Charity would have to look for another job fairly soon. And as for her father, beyond observing that she looked off colour, he had nothing to say.
She accompanied her aunt down to the church hall on the evening before the fair, helped her set up her stall and arrange the articles for sale upon it, helped the ladies in charge of teas to assemble their cups and saucers, and then went back home, where she ate the supper set before her and went to bed early. A mistake, for she didn’t sleep, and went down to breakfast in the morning looking a pale reflection of herself.
The fair was to be opened at two o’clock. She helped her aunt around the house, ate almost no lunch and spent a long time doing her face and hair. There were purple shadows under her eyes and the tip of her nose was still fairly pink from her crying. There was no disguising the bruising round her eye; she did the best she could, got into a tweed suit and a silk blouse, found her outdoor things and went down to join her aunt.
It was a dreary day, chilly and damp and anyone forsaking their fireside for the pleasures of the Fancy Fair must be out of their minds, Charity decided, slowing her steps to keep pace with Aunt Emily. But apparently th
ere were those who weren’t too keen on their own firesides; ten minutes after they arrived at the hall, the doors were flung open and a horde of people pounded in.
‘Like the January sales,’ said Charity, watching two ladies fight in a well-bred manner over an embroidered bedspread. But soon she had no time to look around her; the baby garment stall always did well. After an hour she replenished its emptiness from her stocks behind the stall and had sold almost all of these when she looked up from wrapping a baby’s bonnet in tissue paper to see the professor coming towards her.
Her heart stopped and then thundered on again, twice as fast. She applied herself to giving change as though her life depended on it, willing him to go away. Only he didn’t. He came to a halt before her and with no customers waiting she was forced to look at him.
She said in a small high voice, ‘Good afternoon, Professor. If you want to buy something I think the book stall might interest you. There is nothing here.’
He picked up a small woolly cap with a bobble on top. ‘This interests me far more than books. I think our eldest would look delightful in this thing. Besides, there is something here—you. I’m deeply interested in you, my darling Charity.’
He paused with no sign of impatience while she sold a pair of mitts, taking as long as possible.
Charity felt light-headed. She had spent several days in utter misery, never quite free of Jake in her thoughts although she had struggled to forget him, and now here he was and she was ready to sink through the floor. The thought that he might not have heard her telling him that she loved him flashed through her mind, to be instantly dismissed. His hearing was excellent.
She said coolly, ‘Do please go away.’ And then, when he didn’t budge an inch, ‘You sacked me…’ She sniffed away a threat of tears. ‘And if you’ve come here because of what I told you, you can go away again—now.’
He put out a hand and carefully removed the baby’s bonnet she was screwing into a shapeless mass of knitting.
