by Norrey Ford
There was a log fire in the hearth, and as the two Winns enthused over their new toy, Sally began to feel much too hot. The tea tasted horrible, and instead of feeling better after it she felt much worse. She lost the thread of conversation, and forced her attention back painfully. Caro was saying:
. . you see, Brenda hates it when he works late, and one evening when he said he'd be working, she discovered a nasty, cheap type of girl in his car. It isn't really like Paul a bit, but perhaps Brenda had made him mad. She can be irritating "
Sally said weakly, "I'm so sorry," and put her face in her hands. To her utter embarrassment she was crying.
Caro said anxiously, "Oh, my dear—what have I said? Are you ill?"
The girl's face, close to her own, began to float away like a flower without a stalk, rising and falling. It looked funny. Sally heard someone—not herself, surely?—giggling feebly, then her host said quite sharply, "Ring the bell, Caro."
She was comfortable; deliciously, drowsily comfortable. You wouldn't think the floor of the Winns' library could be so soft. She forced her eyes open. She was in bed in the yellow-and-white room.
"That's better," said a soft Scottish voice. "Ye gave us a bit of a fright. I'm Mr. Winn's housekeeper, Mrs. Fraser."
Sally sat up. "What happened? Have I caused a lot of trouble?"
"Not a bit of it, my dear. You passed out. Mr. Paul had just arrived, so he carried you upstairs and Miss Caro and I popped you into bed. We've sent for the doctor, but I think it's nothing more serious than a touch of 'flu. My sister started hers the same way. Snuggle down now and keep warm."
"But I can't have 'flu here!"
The Scotswoman chuckled. "You've got 'flu here, so that's that, young lady."
Sally lay back on her pillows. If she didn't feel so weak she'd be frightfully embarrassed about the upset she'd caused. And Mr. Paul had carried her up those polished stairs quite safely! A giggle escaped her lips. Had he carried her in his arms like a baby, or flung her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift? Perhaps it was as well she had no recollection of it at all. How would she face him in the office? Now he must be thinking ruefully how much safer he'd have been with Moffat or Downes.
Caro peeped in. "The doctor is here. May I come in? Oh, Sally—thank goodness! You went down like a log. I was terrified."
The doctor, a long lean man with a twinkle in his eyes, said, "Influenza. Don't dare move till I tell you. And that'll be a week, if I'm any judge."
Sally wailed, "I can't stay here a week! If someone telephones, my brother will fetch me. I really must go home."
He sheathed his thermometer. "Not with your temperature. Mrs. Fraser is a good nurse, you'll be all right."
"B-but you don't understand. I'm not a friend of the family, Doctor. I'm only Mr. Paul's secretary."
He laughed. "You're a girl with a sharp go of 'flu. You stay m bed and rest. I'll tell the Winns." "But I haven't any clothes."
"You don't need any. I'll send some medicine and tablets. We'll soon have you well if you do as you are told and stop arguing."
Her head felt too bad to argue, anyway. Tomorrow, she thought hazily, I'll go home whatever he says.
Presently Caro crept in with a jug of cool lemon-barley water. "May Paul come in? He wants to see you."
Sally nodded weakly. Her burning face might be due to temperature or shyness—she was past caring. She shut her eyes. When she opened them, Paul was sitting by her bed with a face of utmost concern.
"My poor Sally! This is all my fault. I took you to Blay, and you caught my godmother's germs. We shall have to make up for it by nursing you back to health."
"So much trouble," she murmured.
,"Rubbish! Mrs. Fraser loves an invalid and Caro is longing to practise her home nursing. My father sends a message that you are to be good and not worry. He's furious with me for exposing you to infection. You're not to think of going home until you're better."
"My family—?"
"I'll take care of that. Shut your eyes and leave everything to me."
"But the Assizes—the typing you wanted." "It will wait. I'll fix it."
He smiled at her gently, encouragingly, and it came to her that he would fix everything; that she needn't worry any more, because Paul had taken charge of her and everything would be all right. She smiled back. "Thank you, sir."
"Sir? Not under my own roof, please. We agreed on Paul for Sundays—and this is a sort of Sunday."
"Thank you, Paul." It was a blessed relief to sink down into the comfortable bed, into the comfortable knowledge that everything was fine, because Paul was in charge. She closed her eyes and slid fathoms deep into sleep. When he was satisfied she was asleep, Paul tiptoed out. He met Caro on the landing.
"She's asleep. I'm going to collect her things now."
"Before dinner? Poor Paul—must you?"
"Sure. I'll have to work late afterwards."
"I like her, Paul. She's just as pretty as you said. But not as lovely as Brenda. I wish you "
He put his hands on her shoulders. "Get it into your feather brain that Brenda and I are finished. Washed up. She's your friend and you're a loyal soul, but you're fighting a lost cause, pet."
"She really loves you, Paul. It broke her heart when you wouldn't see her in your office."
"Couldn't. I was busy."
Caro watched her brother's slender figure as he hurried downstairs. He would make the journey to Sally's home because he was so kind and thoughtful in so many ways. But he would not take the first step in making up the quarrel with Brenda. They were angry with each other, and it looked like settling into a deadlock because neither would give way. As a woman, she sympathised with Brenda. As a sister, she was on Paul's side. Brenda was jealous, but then Paul had given her cause, having that awful woman in his car. Maybe—maybe she was a wee bit possessive too. That scared men off. But Paul ought to be more forgiving. It would be wonderful if she, Caro, could bring them together
again. After all, she thought, I know now what it is to be in love.
Jeff! She had a warm feeling in her heart when she thought about Jeff! When Sally is better, she decided, I shall confide in her. It would be nice to have some girl-talk about Jeff, with someone near to her own age. Sally looked the understanding kind. Brenda—somehow one didn't quite confide in Brenda. She had a way of raising arched eyebrows!
In a couple of days Sally was over the worst. The windows of her room were wide open, the spring air blew softly on the chintz curtains, bringing sudden gusts of lilac. Caro spent a lot of time with her, obediently sitting by the open windows so as not to catch germs. She watched Sally carefully, making an excuse to slip away if the invalid seemed to tire.
"Jeff's terribly sweet, Sally—honestly. He has warm brown eyes and a way of looking at me. He doesn't say anything—simply looks. He wants to get engaged quite soon, but I'm sort of responsible for Daddy, though he wants me to marry when I meet Mr. Right." She dimpled. "Daddy's terribly quaint in some ways. Old-fashioned. So is Paul. That's why I can't understand his deceiving Brenda with that awful girl."
Sally was tired and had rather lost the thread of Caro's chatter. The sudden change of subject caught her out. "Which awful girl?"
"The one in the car. Oh, I remember, I was explaining about it when you collapsed, so perhaps you didn't hear properly. Brenda and Paul had an almighty quarrel because he wouldn't go to a theatre party she'd planned. He said he had to work late, and Brenda lost her temper. Then she was sorry and went to Paul's office expecting to find him there, so that they could make up the quarrel, but"Caro's big eyes rounded—"what do you think?"
An awful suspicion lodged in Sally's mind. "He wasn't there?" But she knew the answer. It was as inevitable as sunrise.
"He was there all right. The frightful part was—he wasn't alone! There was a perfectly horrid type of girl sitting in his car as large as life. Brenda was nearly sick with misery. She knew then why he'd refused her party."
Sally swallowed. "
Caro, don't be such a little goose. Paul isn't the type to have clandestine dates with 'perfectly horrid girls'."
The girl nodded solemnly. "I know. That makes it worse, in a way. Anyway, he didn't deny it."
"Perhaps he wanted Brenda to trust him and was angry because she didn't?"
"I never thought of that."
Sally studied her shrewdly. "Caro, be honest. Didn't you take the whole thing at Brenda's valuation, and never really think it out for yourself?"
The girl flushed, her shapely head lifting with offended pride. Although so young, so delicately modelled, her features were very like Paul's; the fine, straight nose, the strongly moulded lips, the determined chin. Then she smiled with her own lovable candour. "Perhaps I did, Sally. What ought I to have done?"
"I haven't worked long with Paul, but he has taught me two things. To hear both sides of the case, and to look for the facts. Have you asked Paul for his version?"
Caro giggled. "I wouldn't dare!"
"Have you looked for the facts? Paul might have been working very late. The girl in the car might have been his typist, who was also working late. If he kept her later than he intended, he'd be kind enough to drive her home."
"Yes, he would. Do you suppose that is what happened?" Slowly, Caro's pretty mouth fell open, her eyes widened into a horrified stare. "B-but Sally—you're Paul's typist."
"Exactly." Sally's tone was dry.
Caro sat in stunned silence a moment. "Then it was all a mistake?"
"Thank you for believing that."
The two girls smiled at each other. Caro said, "I admit it is a relief. May I tell Brenda everything is all right?"
"I daresay Paul has his reasons for not telling her. It might be wise not to interfere."
The misunderstanding having been cleared up, Sally knew very well she should change the subject. Her employer's love affairs were not her business. But, not being perfect, she could not resist a gently feminine probe. "Of course, it all depends on whether they really love each other."
"They do," Caro affirmed stoutly. "Brenda would do anything to get him back. And Paul simply adores her. He always has."
"Then don't worry. They're certain to make it up before long," said Sally firmly. She wondered why she felt suddenly so low-spirited.
CHAPTER FIVE
MRS. FRASER stumped into the bedroom, her kind face creased into smiles. "Visitors for ye, Miss Sally." Close behind her came Mrs. March, her arms full of lilac.
"Mummy, how gorgeous! How did you get here?"
They hugged, regardless of germs. "Simon took an afternoon off and drove me over. Miss Winn is showing him round the garden. How's my girl?"
"Homesick at times, but oh, everyone is perfectly sweet to me. I don't know why—it must be a nuisance to have an invalid in the house who is a perfect stranger."
"Mr. Winn seemed to think it was his son's fault. He was so polite and apologetic. What a pretty room they have given you."
Caro and Simon came up with the tea tray, and Caro poured out charmingly and with perfect self-possession. After tea she made a graceful little excuse and left the family together.
"Isn't she a pet?" Sally demanded enthusiastically.
Too soon, Simon said they must go. "Got to call in at the office before we close."
"Is everything all right now?" Sally asked him, with a meaning glance.
Mrs. March was studying the gardens from the window. Simon said in an undertone, "I asked Max about those cars. He laughed at me, and said of course it was all right. But there haven't been so many since then, so perhaps I was worrying unnecessarily."
"I'm sure you were."
He grinned. "I say, Sis—I'm hooked. Done for. Gone for a Burton."
"Whatever ?"
"Caroline Winn. I've fallen for her in a big way. Head over heels in love. Go on, laugh!"
Sally never felt less like laughing. Her poor Simon!
"But, Simon, you can't! I mean . . ." She had not time to explain that Caro was head over heels in love with another man, for the girl herself walked in looking so radiantly lovely that Sally felt like strangling the absent Jeff. No wonder Simon had fallen victim at first sight.
As soon as the visitors had gone, Caro turned to Sally, bubbling with delight. "What do you think? Jeff has telephoned from London. He's coming the day after tomorrow." She pirouetted round the room. "Oh, lovely, lovely! And the doctor says you may get up then, doesn't he? So you must come downstairs to tea and meet him."
"I daren't. I'd be dazzled."
"Are you making fun of me? You are! Never mind, I'm so happy I don't care. I do hope Daddy and Paul will like him."
"Goodness! Haven't they met him?"
"Not yet ! All this about getting engaged is purely between ourselves so far. I haven't mentioned it to them, because I feel rather responsible for Daddy, and if Paul is going to get married soon "
"Is he? I thought the Brenda affair was finished."
Caro put on a mischievous expression. "Brenda is dining with us tomorrow. Paul will be home, and she is going to consult him about some property her uncle left her. He won't refuse that, and once they get together they're bound to kiss and make up."
For some reason Sally found this idea unpalatable. Caro never seemed to understand she mustn't discuss her brother's affairs with his secretary. To change the subject, she said, "You were showing Simon the garden. He thought it beautiful."
"I like your brother. We talked about poetry and music."
"Simon is mad about music."
"So am I. Jeff isn't musical, but he says I must teach him to like it, after we're married."
"That's a pity. That is—I don't mean to criticise, Caro, but can a man be changed after marriage? My mother says they can't. They may seem to change a bit before, because they're in love and eager to please. But after marriage they revert to the wild state—take to the jungle again."
Caro laughed merrily. "How funny! But I'm sure I can teach Jeff to love music as I do."
Sally felt uneasy. This affectionate child mustn't meet disappointment in her marriage—she was meant for love and care, for sunshine all the way. "Perhaps you're right. Sometimes the taste for it develops rather late. Er—how old is Jeff?"
A shadow of wariness touched the girl's face. "About twenty-nine. And don't say he's too old for me, because I like it that way. I think younger men are terribly boring. Don't you?"
Sally knew only too well the angry, helpless feeling one experienced when people insisted he's too old for you! As if it mattered when one was in love! All the same, there was a big difference between twenty-nine and Caro's untouched twenty.
She said carefully, "Some are. Simon doesn't bore me because we are close friends, as well as brother and sister. But I admit an older man can be fascinating."
"Aren't you in love with anyone, Sally? You're so pretty and full of fun, you ought to have queues of men waiting for you."
Sally studied the hem-stitching on her turned-down linen sheet. "I am in love with someone. It's stupid of me, because he doesn't care for me any more, and in some ways I'm beginning to think he isn't a nice person at all. But I still love him."
Caro sat on the foot of the bed and clasped her slim hands round her knees. "How awful! Poor Sally, I'm so sorry. I do hope things come right for you in the end. If it happened to me—if Jeff stopped loving me—I'd die." She looked so intensely tragic
that Sally felt a curious constriction of the heart. Caro had a way of compelling love; she was so simple, unspoilt, innocent—and so vulnerable. Please God, let her wonderful Jeff be worthy of her!
She smiled. "No one could help loving you, Caro."
Nothing could damp Caro's spirits now that Jeff was coming to the house to meet her family. The next morning she danced in and out of Sally's bedroom a dozen times with one lovely dress after another, begging Sally's opinion and advice.
"That's the worst of being spoilt and beautiful, Miss Caroline Winn," Sally told her, smiling. "Too many dres
ses and you can't make up your mind "
For some reason Caro looked solemn. "Am I spoilt?"
"Of course not, you goose. I was teasing."
Caro sat down, her arms full of colourful silks. "I don't want to be spoilt or idle. I think I'd enjoy being not very well off, learning to cook and dress-make, and make every penny go a long way. I'd like to have lots of babies and manage them all myself quite beautifully. As Jeff's wife, I'll have to have a nurse for them, of course. I shall hate her because she won't let me do everything for them. I do think mothers ought to, don't you?"
"There's nothing particularly sacred about washing woollies and darning socks. A mother's most important job is surely to give her children companionship, friendship, fun. Bedtime stories and so on."
"I suppose so. You must think me absurd, worrying about my children before I'm even engaged. Shall I wear my green?"
"You look delicious in them all. I'm sure Jeff will think so."
The girl blew an excited kiss in Sally's direction and danced out, meeting Mrs. Fraser entering with hot milk and biscuits on a tray. "Laugh before
seven, cry before eleven, Miss Caro," said the Scotswoman.
"But it's long after seven," Caro told her gaily. "Back soon, Sally. I'm going to take Daddy for his walk."
Mrs. Fraser shook her head. "Miss Caroline's as innocent and lovely as a babe, Miss March. I often wonder what will become of her. So ye're for getting up tomorrow? That's fine, but we shall aye miss you when ye go. Miss Caroline has been all the better for young company. She has never had any young life since she left school. Sup your milk, now. I guess after all ye'll be glad to be away home?"
Sally took the tiny silver tray, on which lay a delicate lace cloth. Everything in this house was of the same fine quality, cared-for and cherished. The silver shone, the sheets were lavender-scented. In the bathroom, the water was always hot, the towels huge, thick and warm. She wondered if her own home would seem small and shabby after Lawnside.
She dismissed the thought. Nothing could be sweeter than her own home, with its shabby but well-polished furniture, the big hearthrug which always had its quota of dog-hairs, no matter how one brushed. And, of course, her own darling family.
