A Good Wife

by Betty Neels

  ‘I suppose I shall have to make my own tea.’ Alice went away, banging the door behind her; Serena heard her squawk of rage when she opened the dining room door and saw the breakfast table.

  She went downstairs presently and found Alice in the kitchen, sitting at the table. She had a pot a tea in front of her and a plate of toast.

  ‘You’ll have to clear the dining room and kitchen,’ she told Serena.

  ‘When you’re dressed we’ll do it together,’ said Serena briskly, and she fetched a mug and poured herself some tea and sat down opposite her sister-in-law. ‘You’re glad I’m going, Alice,’ she observed quietly. ‘I’ve not been welcome here; you’ve made that very obvious.’

  ‘I’ll be glad to see the back of you and that cat of yours. If I had my way you’d be out of the door as soon as you’ve packed your things.’

  Serena sighed. She had tried hard to like Alice and be grateful to Henry. She took her mug to the sink. ‘I’ll clean the vegetables,’ she said. ‘By the time you’ve dressed I’ll be ready to help you with the dining room.’

  They worked silently together, and when the last plate was washed Alice threw the teacloth down by the sink. ‘I’m going out to lunch. Give the children their tea when they come in.’

  Serena finished her packing, made a cheese sandwich for her lunch and washed her hair, and all the time she wondered why Mr van Doelen had been the means of finding her a job, and how he had known she was in need of work. And that reminded her that she must let Dr Bowring know that she was leaving. He might not be home, but Mrs Bowring would tell him…

  He was home, on the point of leaving for his surgery. When she told him he said worriedly, ‘Oh, Lord, Ivo phoned me and asked me to tell you about this job—I clean forgot. I’m so sorry, Serena.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. He wrote to me and Mrs Webster came to see me. I’m going in the morning. I’m very grateful to him, though how he knew that I wanted a job is beyond me.’

  Dr Bowring said, ‘I believe that I mentioned it last time I saw him. I must go, Serena. Write and let us know how things are…and good luck!’

  Which was more than Henry wished her when he got home that evening. ‘I am amazed,’ he said, at his most pompous. ‘After all we have done for you—the ingratitude…’

  Serena said matter-of-factly, ‘Don’t be silly, Henry. You know as well as I do that you’re glad to see the back of me. I know it means you’ll have to pay for another au pair, but you can afford that, can’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know what Matthew will have to say to this,’ began Henry.

  ‘Why, he’ll be just as relieved as you are. Only he’ll be pleased that I’ve got a job and can start living my own life.’

  She was fetched in the morning by an elderly man in a cloth cap, driving an equally elderly car. He had a rugged, cheerful face, and explained that he was Mr Webster’s gardener and handyman as he stowed her luggage in the boot. There was no one to see her go. Henry had bidden her an unforgiving goodbye when he’d left for work, the children were uncaring whether she was there or not and Alice was still in bed. Henry had made much of the fact that Alice was feeling very poorly and could scarcely lift her head off the pillow.

  Serena got into the car beside the elderly man and didn’t look back as he drove away.

  His name, he told her, was Bob, and he’d been with the Websters for a number of years. ‘Live in a cottage near the house with me wife. She cooks and housekeeps and that…there’s a girl comes in each day to give an ’and.’

  ‘It must be quite a big house,’ said Serena, anxious to find out all she could before she got there.

  ‘Middlin’ big. Nice big garden. That your cat in the basket?’

  ‘Yes. Mrs Webster said that I might have her with me. I hope your wife won’t object?’

  ‘Lor’, no. Likes animals. Miss Heather’ll be pleased. Always wanted a dog or cat, but Mrs Webster don’t approve of them in the ’ouse.’

  Serena said uneasily, ‘But Puss isn’t used to living out of doors. Mrs Webster had no objection when I asked her.’

  He gave a chuckle. ‘Don’t you worry, miss. She were that anxious to find someone to stay with Miss Heather she’d ’ave put up with a herd of elephants. See, it’s like this. Master Timothy’s the apple of ’is mum’s eye—’is dad’s too, for that matter—and Miss Heather, well, she’s difficult. ’Ad her nose put out of joint when the boy was born and no one has bothered to put it straight.’

  ‘Poor child. Thank you for telling me; it will be a great help.’ She longed to ask more questions about the Websters, but it seemed prudent not to do so. Instead she asked him to tell her something about Penn.

  The house was on the edge of the village, a white-walled gentleman’s residence of some size, with green-shuttered windows and a wrought-iron balcony, surrounded by a large and beautifully kept garden.

  ‘What gorgeous flowers, and such a lovely lawn,’ said Serena, which pleased Bob.

  ‘Mrs Webster, she doesn’t care much for gardens; let’s me ’ave a free ’and.’

  ‘Oh—and Mr Webster? Doesn’t he like gardens either?’

  They were standing by the car before the door, looking around them.

  “’E’s hardly ever home. Come on in, miss; Maisie’ll ’ave coffee ready.’

  Maisie was small and stout and placid. She welcomed Serena warmly and led the way to the kitchen. ‘If you don’t mind having coffee with us, miss? Your room’s ready, and I thought you might like to use the little sitting room—there’s a door to the garden for your cat. When Mrs Webster’s away we shut up the drawing room and the dining room.’

  She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and Serena sat down. The room was large and very well equipped; no expense had been spared and everything gleamed and shone. The coffee was delicious and hot and there were slices of home-made cake to go with it. The three of them sat comfortably talking until Maisie said, ‘You’ll want to see your room, miss. Bob’s taken your things up, and you’ll have plenty of time to settle in before Heather comes back from school. She’s been eating with us, but now you’re here she can have her meals with you in the sitting room.’

  ‘Oh, but won’t that give you a lot of extra work?’

  ‘To tell you the truth, miss, me and Bob will like to be on our own.’

  She led Serena, with Puss in her basket, up the staircase and along a corridor at the back of the house. The room was small, but nicely furnished, and there was a small balcony overlooking the garden.

  ‘There’s no reason why you shouldn’t have your little cat up here, miss, there being a balcony.’

  Serena thanked her and Maisie went away, saying that they would be downstairs when she was ready to come down.

  The small sitting room which Serena and Heather were to use was plainly furnished and obviously not often used. A few flowers, thought Serena, and a cushion or two, a few books lying about and Puss sitting there and it would look cosier.

  She was glad to see that the garden was enclosed by a high wall so that Puss could safely roam. Lunch would be at one o’clock, and until then she was free to explore the house and the garden. The house could come later, she decided, and went into the garden with a cautious Puss. It was beautifully kept, with trim lawns and weedless flowerbeds, and away from the house there was a small summer house beside a pool filled with goldfish. A very nice garden, she considered, but it didn’t look as though anyone enjoyed it much; it was all too perfect. She found a swimming pool, too, tucked away behind a high hedge…

  Called to have her lunch presently, she persuaded Maisie to let her share it with them in the kitchen. ‘Because I know nothing about Heather—Mrs Webster was anxious to get back to her son and there was really no time. Is her school far from here? And does she have tea when she gets home? And when does she go to bed? And her friends? Do they come here sometimes?’ She smiled. ‘An awful lot of questions, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Well, she’s thirteen, and independent-like,’ s
aid Maisie. ‘Likes her own way, too. Never has her friends here, spends a lot of time just mooning around. Got a telly of her own, and a radio…’

  ‘She’s lonely?’

  ‘Yes, miss. Always has been. Wanted a dog or a cat, but Mrs Webster didn’t want the bother.’

  Serena was in the garden with Puss when Heather came home from school. She watched the girl coming towards her, a thin child, with untidy hair and a pale face, which one day would be pretty but which scowled now.

  ‘Hello,’ said Serena, ignoring the scowl. ‘Shall we sit here for a bit, or do you want tea straight away?’

  Heather stood in front of her, staring. ‘I’ll have my tea when I like.’

  ‘Right, but don’t shout, Heather, or you’ll frighten Puss.’

  And Puss, as if on cue, poked a furry head round a nearby bush.

  ‘You’ve got a cat. Mother let you have a cat here? She said I couldn’t have one; it would be a nuisance.’ The scowl had gone.

  ‘Well, perhaps when she finds out how good Puss is you might be allowed to have a cat of your own.’

  Serena had sat down on the grass again, and Puss came to sit beside her.

  ‘May I stroke her?’

  ‘Of course, she loves to be cuddled and loved.’

  ‘Mother actually said that she could be in the house?’

  ‘Yes, but I think we won’t allow her in the drawing room or dining room. Just the sitting room we are to use and my bedroom.’

  ‘And my bedroom…?’

  ‘Once she has got to know you, yes, I don’t see why not.’

  Heather said slowly, ‘I dare say you’re quite nice…’

  ‘I hope so! Now, shall we go and have tea? And perhaps you’ll tell me how you spend your days.’ Serena picked up Puss and started towards the house, and after a moment Heather followed her.

  She said airily, ‘Oh, I have to go to school, of course, and you wouldn’t be interested in what I do when I’m free—I’ve friends…tennis and swimming…and I’ve a bike.’

  ‘Well, yes, of course you have friends…’

  ‘You wouldn’t want to do any of the things we do,’ said Heather rudely.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I play tennis and I swim, and I’ve ridden a bike for years and years. I drive a car, too.’ She smiled at the girl. ‘Though I haven’t got one of my own.’

  ‘There’s a Mini in the garage; Bob and Maisie use it. Perhaps you could borrow it. Not that I’d want to come with you.’

  ‘No, no, of course not—you’d be bored stiff,’ Serena said pleasantly.

  She was just as pleasant during tea, ignoring Heather’s deliberate bad manners, suggesting that she might like to give Puss a saucer of milk. ‘Homework?’ she asked presently, and was told that homework was something to be ignored as much as possible.

  ‘Oh, a pity. I was going to suggest that when you had done it you might like to give Puss her supper and take her for a little walk in the garden—she likes someone with her.’

  Heather eyed her. ‘When Timothy is away at school and Mother and Father are away, Mother hires someone to come and stay here—I’ve hated them all, but probably you won’t be too ghastly.’

  Serena agreed placidly. Heather was an ill-behaved girl, but probably it wasn’t her fault. It seemed to Serena that she was lonely, and only aggressive because she felt that no one loved her. Serena thought that there might be stormy days ahead, but they would be no worse than the years of living with her father and the week or two with Henry.

  Mrs Webster telephoned quite late that evening, after Heather had gone to bed. She had rung, she told Serena, to make sure that she had arrived safely, and rang off without asking after Heather.

  Serena decided that she didn’t like her.

  An opinion, if she did but know it, which Mr van Doelen shared with her. He had given Mrs Webster reassuring news of Timothy and was pointing out that there was no need for her to spend the day at the hospital. ‘I am sure you will want to go home and see how things are there. You can phone to the hospital each day if you wish…’

  ‘Certainly not, Mr van Doelen. I intend to stay in London, close to Timothy, until he is fit enough to be taken home. There’s nothing for me to worry about at Penn. That girl you recommended is there to keep an eye on Heather. She seems to be capable, and reasonably well educated. Of course, one never knows with these young women, but I had to take a chance. Timothy is more important than anything else at the moment. As long as she doesn’t go off with the silver!’

  She laughed at her joke, but Mr van Doelen didn’t so much as smile.

  He said coldly, ‘Miss Lightfoot is hardly likely to do that, Mrs Webster, but of course you have only met her briefly, I believe.’

  ‘You know her well?’

  Mr van Doelen said coolly, ‘I know her family and her friends, as well as Miss Lightfoot. I would not have recommended her to you if I had any doubts about her, Mrs Webster. You will not find anyone more suitable.’

  Mrs Webster didn’t say any more. Mr van Doelen looked just as usual, with his calm, rather austere good looks, but somehow she sensed that he was angry.

  He was indeed angry. He had wanted to help Serena, but he suspected that he had merely helped her out of the frying pan into the fire!

  He had been unable to forget her—something which he had found disturbing. His work filled most of his life, though he supposed that one day he would marry; perhaps a woman from his circle of friends. But he had felt no urgency to do so—until he had looked around and seen Serena coming towards him on Barrow Hill.

  He had fallen in and out of love like any normal man, light-hearted affairs which had come and gone and been forgotten, but he had taken one look at Serena and known that he had met his true love at last. He had no doubt in his mind that he would make her his wife, but since, at the moment, there wasn’t even the remotest possibility of that, he was content to wait. Opportunities to see her again seemed unlikely, but when she left Mrs Webster’s employ he would make sure that he was there…

  He bade Mrs Webster goodbye with a still austere politeness, and pressed the buzzer on his desk for his nurse to send in the next patient. He hoped that Serena would find life better now that she was away from her brother. He must find a way to go and see her…

  Serena was finding life considerably better; Heather wasn’t an easy child, and she objected to everything suggested to her—from the changing of a grubby frock to a clean one, the brushing of her hair, the cleaning of her fingernails, to getting up in the morning, getting to school on time and eating her meals. All the same, she had an Achilles’ heel: Puss. She showed an unexpectedly tender regard for the little cat and gradually, after the first week or so, she began to show friendliness towards Serena.

  She was cautious about it, though, and Serena did nothing to spoil things. She spent all Heather’s free time with her, for she never evinced a wish to ask her friends from school to come to the house. Bit by bit she began to respond to Serena’s matter-of-fact manner—a game of tennis, swimming in the pool together, visits to Penn to spend her pocket money. And Serena was able to give Mrs Webster an honest report when that lady telephoned.

  Not that Mrs Webster was particularly interested in Heather. She supposed, she had said in her rather loud, aggressive voice, that the girl was behaving herself, and Serena was to be firm with her. As to Serena herself, Mrs Webster made no enquiries as to her comfort, or if she had settled down, and there was no mention of any free time…

  Serena didn’t mind. She had enough leisure, for beyond seeing to her own and Heather’s rooms, helping to clear the dishes and arranging the flowers she was free for several hours while the child was at school. She spent some of them going into Penn to shop for Maisie and, when Bob was amenable, helping him in the garden. But when Heather was home there was no leisure; there was homework to be dealt with—no easy matter since the child avoided doing it whenever she had the chance—and the long evenings had to be filled with tennis or clock go
lf, and sometimes just sitting in the garden, talking.

  The mornings were the worst, though, for Heather lay in bed until the last minute and then refused breakfast, mislaid her schoolbooks and thought up a dozen reasons why she should not go to school that day. Serena wasn’t easily beaten.

  When Mrs Webster rang one day Serena listened while she was told every detail of Timothy’s progress, and when his mother said, ‘You have nothing to report, I dare say,’ she uttered the speech she had rehearsed so carefully.

  ‘Heather is behaving splendidly, Mrs Webster. I’m sure that she misses you all, but she never grumbles. Of course, she is lonely without her family, and I wondered if you would allow her to have something to love. She is very fond of my cat, and loves to look after her. Would you allow her to have a cat of her own? She would delight in looking after it and feeding it, and it would give her a sense of responsibility.’

  ‘A cat? I have never allowed her to have a pet…’

  ‘She is old enough to look after it herself.’

  ‘Well, I suppose she can have a cat if she wants one—she’s such a difficult child, not like Timothy. But if it becomes a nuisance it will have to go.’ Mrs Webster added sharply, ‘I shall hold you responsible, Miss Lightfoot.’

  That evening Heather was particularly tiresome, dawdling over her tea, declaring that she couldn’t do her homework since she had the wrong books with her, and then going into the garden to look for strawberries—something she knew she shouldn’t do until Bob said that they were ready.

  Serena, fetching her indoors for her supper, forebore from scolding her, but as they ate their supper she said, ‘I talked to your mother on the phone this morning. It’s a pity you’re so cross because I had some news for you.’

  Heather said rudely, ‘All about Timothy, I suppose—spoilt brat. You can keep your news to yourself.’

  ‘Well, I could, but I won’t. I asked your mother if you might have a cat of your own, and she said that you could…’

  ‘A cat! I can have a cat? I don’t believe you…’