The Tall Stranger

by D. E. Stevenson

  Edward arrived at lunch-time on Saturday. They had expected him to play golf in the afternoon and had arranged a shopping expedition to Cheltenham but instead of playing golf as usual he declared his intention of coming with them.

  ‘It will be fun,’ he said. ‘I haven’t been to Cheltenham for years. I’ll take you over in my car and we can have tea at the George Hotel.’

  ‘Barbie and I have shopping to do,’ said Amalie in warning tones, but even this failed to deter him and the expedition was a great success.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The meeting between Edward and Nell took place in the hall at Underwoods. There was nothing in the least dramatic about it; they were introduced and acknowledged the introduction in a perfectly ordinary way. Barbie had thought about this meeting so much that she was a little disappointed – but what had she expected? She could scarcely have expected that her two friends, meeting for the first time, would fly into each other’s arms.

  At lunch the conversation was general, Edward and Nell spoke to each other quite naturally, neither more nor less than occasion demanded. Nell talked about what she had been doing in town; Edward said town was uncomfortably warm and he wished he were a farmer.

  ‘Lots of people wish that – in the summer,’ said Nell.

  Half-way through the meal Edward suddenly remembered something. He rose and went round the table and put a little white case beside Amalie’s plate.

  ‘Oh, my ring!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Your ring,’ agreed Edward. ‘It’s taken a long time to do but here it is at last.’ He opened the little case, took out the ring and held it up for them to see. The emerald sparkled and flashed green fire in the sunshine.

  ‘What a lovely ring!’ cried Nell.

  ‘What a difference the cleaning has made!’ exclaimed Penney.

  Edward smiled. He took Amalie’s hand and kissed it and slipped the ring on to her finger. ‘There,’ he said. ‘You’ve always been my very dear Amie; now we’re officially engaged.’

  Amalie tried to laugh but the laugh was a trifle shaky and she saw the green stone winking at her through a haze of tears. She had always tried to be Edward’s friend; it was wonderful to know that he appreciated it. Sometimes he had caused her anxiety but he was a dear boy, her own dear Edward. She would have liked to say something of what was in her heart but she could not trust herself to speak … and in any case she could not have said much with the others sitting round the table listening.

  ‘I think the chap has done it quite well,’ Edward was saying. ‘He’s a working jeweller – an awfully decent fellow. He says it’s a particularly fine stone. Well, we knew that before, didn’t we? If you want anything else done I can give you his address.’

  After lunch they all went out and walked round the garden which was now a blaze of colour. It was nearly the end of June and a spell of bright sunshine had brought on the flowers in a rush. Nell adored flowers and ran from one bed to another exclaiming in admiration and delight … and of course her hostess began to pick them for her, saying: ‘You would like some freesias, would you, Miss Babbington? And what about a few sweet peas? Delphiniums look lovely in a tall vase … and you must have some of these pink asters to go with them.’

  Nell accepted them all.

  A new rose-bed was being prepared at one end of the garden and Amalie explained that she intended to have an espalier put up, but it was difficult to get hold of ‘the man.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ said Edward. ‘You get the wood and I’ll put it up in half no time. It’s the sort of job I like.’

  Having settled this matter satisfactorily they moved on to the kitchen-garden and admired the rows of peas and beans and lettuces, and once again Amalie claimed Nell’s attention and led her to the cold frame where an enormous marrow was to be seen; it was growing larger every day and ripening for the Shepherdsford Flower Show.

  ‘Dear thing, it’s just like a baby!’ exclaimed Nell rapturously … and then, noting the surprised expression of its owner, she added, ‘Oh, I don’t mean it looks like a baby, I just mean it’s behaving like one. All good babies put on weight and grow enormously. My sister has four, so I know all about it. Her letters are always full of how many ounces the new one has gained in a week. Barbie hasn’t gained many ounces, has she?’

  ‘It isn’t my fault,’ said Amalie smiling. ‘Nor Penney’s fault either. Barbie has decided to remain slender, and I must admit it suits her.’

  Nell agreed – though somewhat reluctantly. Barbie certainly was much prettier since her illness but Nell was so fond of her that she would have liked to see her exactly as she was before. (It is a strange quirk of human nature that if we are very fond of people we like them to be plump.)

  When the marrow had been sufficiently admired Amalie sent off the two girls to have a chat. Of course Barbie wanted to talk to Nell so she could not complain but it seemed a pity that Edward and Nell had had so little of each other’s society.

  ‘Who is Rupert?’ asked Barbie when they had gone upstairs and settled down comfortably in Barbie’s bedroom.

  ‘Oh, just a man,’ said Nell. ‘Rather sweet, but not terribly special. Rupert was coming to Shepherdsford to play golf. He belongs to Shepherdsford Golf Club. He said he knew Edward and had played with him several times. This afternoon Rupert had fixed a match with a man called Henry Buckland. Of course Phil would have brought me but he would have had to come to lunch, so it was much more sensible to come with Rupert, wasn’t it?’

  Barbie agreed. She hesitated for a moment as if she were going to ask something and then decided not to.

  ‘What were you going to say?’ asked Nell.

  ‘Nothing important. How is Dr Headfort?’

  ‘He’s all right,’ replied Dr Headfort’s secretary. ‘Terribly busy of course. He’s got a whole lot of new patients.’

  ‘Have you seen any more of him unprofessionally?’

  ‘Oh well! As a matter of fact we went to Othello the other night – it was just to clear up an argument. My dear, it was too shattering! It isn’t just a play; it’s an experience. I say, you’ve got a new little charm on your bracelet. Where did you get it?’

  ‘I got it out of Elsie’s wedding cake.’

  ‘Nice,’ said Nell. ‘I haven’t seen one like it before.’

  ‘What else has happened?’ asked Barbie.

  ‘That woman I told you about, who has taken the Other Flat, is getting to be a nuisance. She trips in to see me at all sorts of inconvenient moments – and now she’s asked me to call her Glore.’

  ‘Glore!’

  ‘Short for Gloria.’

  ‘Oh Nell!’ exclaimed Barbie with one of her infectious chuckles.

  ‘I suppose it is rather funny,’ agreed Nell. ‘But the fact is Glore has got beyond a joke.’

  ‘Don’t tell me she’s a borrower!’

  Nell nodded. ‘Yes, and I can’t refuse to give her milk, because of the child. I mean you can refuse milk to a grown-up person but not to a child.’

  For several minutes they discussed the principles of borrowing with not a little bitterness for they had suffered from borrowers before. It was all very well for Polonius to say ‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be’ (they could not have agreed more with this admirable advice); but they had found it well-nigh impossible to refuse a neighbour who appeared upon their doorstep late on a Saturday night with an empty tea-caddy and a request for ‘just a few spoonfuls – if you can spare it – to tide me over till Monday.’ It was all right if it happened only occasionally, and only with small things like tea and bread and potatoes, but borrowers have borrowing in their blood and when they discover a lender they go from small things to large. Presently they begin to borrow money!

  ‘Polonius didn’t live in a flat,’ said Nell with a sigh. This seemed the final word upon the matter.

  ‘What do you think of Edward?’ asked Barbie. Perhaps it was not very wise to ask, but she simply had to know.

  ‘Means business,’ said Nel
l, smiling.

  ‘Means business?’ echoed Barbie in bewilderment.

  ‘Yes, my dear innocent. Edward’s intentions are obvious – and strictly honourable. In other words he’s simply waiting for a favourable opportunity to propose.’

  ‘You mean – to me?’

  ‘Who else?’ asked Nell, giggling. ‘You didn’t think it was me, did you? I only met the man today and I haven’t exchanged a dozen words with him. I may be a fast worker, but really –’

  ‘Me?’ repeated Barbie, gazing at her, wide-eyed.

  ‘Didn’t you know? Barbie, you really are a donkey!’

  ‘You’re wrong, Nell.’

  ‘My dear, if you had seen his face when he was putting the ring on Lady Steyne’s finger! It was your finger he wanted to put it on –’ She smiled mischievously and added, ‘Aunt Nell has had lots of experience. Aunt Nell knows all about it.’

  ‘But we’ve known each other all our lives! I mean we’re friends. We’re just like cousins.’

  ‘But you aren’t cousins,’ Nell pointed out. ‘And you haven’t known each other all your lives. He’s been away for years, hasn’t he? Now he’s come home and fallen in love with “the girl next door.” ’

  Barbie was silent.

  ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you,’ continued Nell in a much more serious tone. ‘I wouldn’t have said anything, but I know you so well – and you really are such an innocent – and it’s better for you to know what’s coming than to be taken aback like an early Victorian heroine. At least I think it’s better. I know I would rather.’ She hesitated and then added, ‘You can make up your mind beforehand whether to say yes or no or perhaps.’

  ‘It will be no,’ said Barbie hastily. ‘I mean if he really does –’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Nell. ‘It would be a pity to say no without considering it seriously. Edward seems to me a most engaging creature and I think you’re very fond of him. I think you’re sort of blinded by this “friends and cousins” idea. Why don’t you put all that out of your head and give the man a chance?’

  Barbie said in a dazed voice, ‘I don’t know. I never thought –’

  At this moment a small red car drew up at the gate and hooted in a gentlemanly manner.

  ‘It’s frightfully unselfish of me to have warned you,’ declared Nell, seizing her hat off the bed. ‘The very last thing I want is for you to go and get married. The flat is so empty – and lonely – and so absolutely beastly without you that I believe I shall have to think of getting married myself. There,’ she added as she settled the hat at the most becoming angle, and turned her head this way and that, and looked in the glass. ‘Don’t you think it’s rather a duck of a hat? Parks and Spender – fourteen and eleven – you’d never believe it, would you?’

  Barbie said in a dazed voice that you never would believe it – unless you knew Nell – but knowing Nell you could believe it quite easily, for every hat Nell put upon her head looked as if it had come straight from Paris.

  The hoots from the gate had become imperative.

  ‘That’s Rupert! I must fly!’ cried Nell. ‘Men are so frightfully impatient, aren’t they? Good-bye, darling. Be good.’

  She kissed Barbie and flew.

  The last fortnight of Barbie’s long stay at Underwoods passed very quickly. She had decided quite definitely to return to London immediately after Aunt Amalie’s birthday and despite all persuasions she stuck to her decision. She burnt her boats by writing to Mr Garfield to say she was coming and received a letter from him by return of post. After saying he was delighted to hear she was better, and that ‘everyone in the place’ was looking forward to seeing her, he went on to explain that Miss Brown (her temporary substitute) was inefficient and spent most of her time stirring up trouble and quarrelling with Miss Smithers, who was in charge of the girls in the work-rooms. Several important orders had been lost and two old and valued customers were dissatisfied. Mr Garfield enclosed some correspondence from a certain Mrs Albert Bray who lived about twenty miles from Shepherdsford and asked if Miss France would go and see her while she was in the district and ‘try to smooth her down.’

  On reading the enclosures Miss France discovered that Mrs Bray would take a good deal of ‘smoothing down,’ for apparently her order for chair-coverings had been completely muddled and the lady was very angry indeed.

  Barbie took the letters to Aunt Amalie and explained.

  ‘I’ll go tomorrow,’ said Barbie. ‘I can get a bus and go over in the afternoon.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go if I were you,’ said Aunt Amalie. ‘She sounds so angry. Her letters are quite rude.’

  Barbie smiled. ‘But that’s business,’ she declared. ‘Sometimes people are nice and sometimes nasty. In business you have to take the rough with the smooth … and in any case I must go because Mr Garfield has asked me to do it and he’s my boss.’

  Obviously all this was an eye-opener to Aunt Amalie. ‘I don’t like it,’ she said. ‘Why should people be nasty? I’m never nasty to girls in shops.’

  ‘Everybody isn’t like you, darling.’

  ‘I don’t like it,’ repeated Aunt Amalie, with a worried frown. ‘I thought Garfield’s was a nice job. It was silly of me but I never realised you would have to put up with rudeness and unpleasantness. However I suppose when you’re there yourself there are no muddles, so the customers have no reason to complain.’

  Barbie laughed – but said nothing. It was just as well for Aunt Amalie to be comforted by this extremely pleasant idea. As a matter of fact Barbie had found that customers were often rude and disagreeable when they had made the muddles themselves and therefore had no just cause for complaint. She had discovered also that it was these people who were the most difficult to pacify – these people who were uncomfortably aware that the whole thing was really their own fault.

  ‘Oh well, you’ll be leaving Garfield’s soon,’ added Aunt Amalie with a sigh of relief.

  ‘Leaving Garfield’s!’

  ‘Oh, I just mean perhaps you might think of it,’ said Aunt Amalie hastily – and began to talk of something else.

  It was perfectly clear to Barbie what Aunt Amalie meant.

  Mrs Albert Bray was tall and dark and elegant; she swept into the little room, where Barbie had been put to wait for her, and began without preamble to state her case.

  ‘I’m furious,’ she declared – quite unnecessarily, for her fury was obvious – ‘I don’t know why you’ve come. Any woman who can write such impertinent letters isn’t fit to speak to – and I don’t intend to listen to any excuses at all. The covers are hopeless, they aren’t the pattern I chose and they look perfectly frightful in my drawing-room. I shall send them all back and I won’t pay for them – not a penny – you can sue me if you like. I shall put the whole matter into the hands of my lawyer …’

  ‘I just came to apologise,’ said Barbie, when she was able to get a word in edgeways.

  ‘It’s too late for apologies. I’ve waited weeks for the covers – I’m sick and tired of waiting – and now they’re all wrong. Someone told me that Garfield’s was a good firm to deal with but I’ve never dealt with a worse one – and I’ve never had such impertinent letters in my life.’ She paused and looked at Barbie. ‘I suppose you’re Miss Brown?’ she said.

  ‘No,’ replied Barbie meekly. She was not in the least annoyed with Mrs Bray, for although she had a temper which was apt to flare up at inconvenient moments she felt pretty certain that the lady had good cause to be enraged. Besides this was ‘business’ and Barbie rather enjoyed dealing with difficult customers. It was a sort of game to Barbie; a game which required tact and diplomacy and an understanding of human nature. To tell the truth Barbie rather liked Mrs Bray.

  ‘You’re not Miss Brown?’ asked Mrs Bray in surprise.

  ‘No,’ repeated Barbie.

  ‘Well, why on earth have you come?’

  ‘Just to apologise, that’s all.’

  Mrs Bray was slightly deflated. It was i
mpossible to go on raging at a nice-looking young woman who put up no defence – and, now that Mrs Bray had time to look at her properly, she became aware that the young woman was very nice-looking indeed. In fact she was quite beautiful, with that most unusual colouring and those expressive eyes!

  ‘You had better come and see the covers,’ said Mrs Bray.

  Barbie followed Mrs Bray to the drawing-room.

  ‘There!’ said Mrs Bray, throwing open the door. ‘I put them on the chairs, just to see. Of course I knew directly I opened the parcel that they weren’t what I chose. I chose a very pretty rose-pink brocade which toned with the curtains – and that’s what you sent!’

  ‘They’re ghastly,’ said Barbie with conviction.

  ‘Absolutely ghastly,’ agreed Mrs Bray. ‘They make the curtains look faded and they scream at the carpet. What do you propose to do?’

  ‘Make new ones,’ replied Barbie promptly.

  ‘And keep me waiting for weeks and weeks, I suppose.’

  ‘We’ll put them in hand at once.’

  Mrs Bray looked at her suspiciously.

  ‘You see,’ said Barbie. ‘The mistake has arisen because I was ill and Miss Brown was acting for me in a temporary capacity. I know Mr Garfield will be very upset when I tell him about it, and will do all he can to put things right. I’m going back to Garfield’s on Tuesday and I’ll attend to your order myself.’

  After that Barbie had no trouble at all with her ‘difficult customer.’ She was invited to stay to tea – and stayed – and she was taken to see Mrs Bray’s bedroom and given an order for new curtains and a bedspread to match.

  And this was not all, for they had now become so friendly that Mrs Bray confided to Miss France, as a dead secret, that in a few months’ time she might possibly be thinking of turning the spare bedroom into a nursery, and she wondered whether Miss France had any suggestions to make. Miss France immediately replied that turning a spare bedroom into a nursery was one of her favourite jobs and offered several suggestions, all extremely sensible; and it was agreed that the moment Miss France got back to Garfield’s she was to look out some books of pictures and patterns and make some little sketches which would be helpful to anyone who was thinking of such a thing.