by Betty Neels
Lady Cowder sat up straight. ‘My dear James, what a splendid idea. And, of course, I need only pay her her usual wages. She will be delighted to have the opportunity to travel. Tell me, where would you recommend that we should stay?’
Mr Tait-Bouverie hadn’t expected his suggestion to be taken so seriously. ‘Kate might not wish to go to Norway…’ he said. ‘Though at this time of year one of the smaller villages around the fiords would be delightful. Very quiet, of course, but by no means cut off from civilisation—these places attract many visitors in the summer months. Or you could stay in Bergen—a pleasant small city with everything one could wish for.’
‘Could you arrange it for me?’
‘I’m so sorry, Aunt. I’m not free to do that. My trip to Norway has been arranged, of course. I suggest that you get hold of a good travel agent and get him to see to everything. That is, if you intend to go.’
‘Of course I intend to, James. I’ll tell Kate in the morning and she can see to the details.’
‘She might not wish to go.’
‘Nonsense. It’s the chance of a lifetime for the girl. A free holiday and nothing to do. I hardly think it necessary to pay her her wages at all—after all, she won’t need to spend any money.’
Mr Tait-Bouverie lifted an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think that would be legal. You wouldn’t wish to be involved in a court case.’
‘Certainly not. She will, of course, have to make herself useful.’
‘If she agrees to go with you…’
‘She can have a month’s notice if she refuses,’ said Lady Cowder tartly.
Mr Tait-Bouverie, his duty visit paid, took himself off home. There had been no sign of Kate, and the thought crossed his mind that he might have done her a disservice. He reminded himself that she was a young woman capable of managing her own affairs. She had only to refuse to go and look for another job.
He dismissed the whole affair from his mind but, all the same, it returned to bother him during the next few days.
Kate, bidden to the drawing room by one of the old-fashioned bells which still hung in the kitchen, took off her apron, tucked an errant russet tress behind an ear, and went upstairs. The sack? she wondered. Or, far worse, another visit from Claudia. She opened the door, went into the room and stood quietly, waiting to hear whatever news her employer had for her.
Lady Cowder stared at her. Really, the girl didn’t look like a housekeeper and certainly didn’t behave like one; she didn’t even look interested…
‘I have decided to take a holiday, Kate. I need relaxation. My palpitations must be a sign of something more serious although, as you know, I am never one to worry about myself. I intend to go abroad—to Norway. You will come with me. I need someone to take care of me, see to travel arrangements and so on. It is a pleasant surprise to you, no doubt, to have a holiday which will cost you nothing. I shall, of course, continue to pay you your wages. You may consider yourself very fortunate, Kate.’
Kate said quietly, ‘Are you asking me to go away with you, Lady Cowder?’
‘Well, of course—have you not been listening?’
‘Yes, but you haven’t asked me if I wish to go, Lady Cowder.’
Lady Cowder turned a shocked gaze upon her. ‘You are my housekeeper, Kate. I expect you to do what I wish.’
‘If I am asked,’ said Kate calmly. ‘And I would prefer not to go, Lady Cowder. I am sure you will have no difficulty in finding a suitable companion.’
‘And you expect to remain here, being paid for doing nothing?’
Kate didn’t answer, and Lady Cowder spent a few moments in reflection. She didn’t want to give Kate the sack—she was hard-working, a splendid cook and hadn’t haggled over her wages. Nor was she a clock-watcher, everlastingly going on about her rights. To engage a companion, even for a month, would cost money—something Lady Cowder couldn’t contemplate without shuddering…
There was only one solution. She said, in the wispy voice she used when she wanted sympathy, ‘Please consider my offer, Kate. It would be for a month, and I am prepared to pay you the normal wages of a companion—considerably more than you get at present. Of course, when we return your wages will revert to the present amount.’
‘What exactly would my wages be, Lady Cowder?’ asked Kate pleasantly.
Lady Cowder closed her eyes and assumed a pained expression. She was thinking rapidly. Mrs Arbuthnott, a friend of hers, had just engaged a new companion and her salary seemed excessive, although Lady Cowder had been assured that it was the standard rate. Surely half that amount would be sufficient for Kate; that would still be almost twice as much as her present money.
Lady Cowder opened her eyes and told Kate.
Twice as much, thought Kate, and if she could save all of it she would soon have the money she needed. She said quietly, ‘Very well, Lady Cowder, I will come with you. When do you intend to go?’
‘As soon as possible, while I still have my health and strength. Go to Thame tomorrow morning and see the travel agents. I wish to fly—first class, of course—and stay at one of the smaller towns situated close to the fiords. A good hotel, not isolated, with all the amenities I am accustomed to.’
‘You want me to bring back particulars of several places so that you may choose?’
‘Yes, yes. And some possible dates—within the next two weeks.’ Lady Cowder sank back against the cushions. ‘Now bring me my coffee. I could eat a biscuit or two with it.’
Kate, watching the coffee percolate, weighed the doubtful delights of travelling with her employer against twice as much money for a month. She didn’t expect to enjoy herself, but it would mean that she would be able to give up this job sooner than she had expected. It would also mean careful budgeting; her mother would have to manage on her pension while Kate was away so that every spare penny of her wages could be saved.
‘The chance of a lifetime,’ Kate told Horace, offering him a saucer of his favourite cat food. ‘I shall become a famous cook and live happily ever after.’
She told her mother when she went home for her half-day.
‘Darling, what a stroke of luck…’ Mrs Crosby got a pencil and the back of an envelope and began to do sums. The result was satisfactory and she nodded and smiled. Then she frowned. ‘Clothes—a hotel—you’ll need clothes…’
‘No, I shan’t, Mother. There’s that mole-coloured crêpe thing I had years ago. That’ll do very well if I have to change for the evening. Lady Cowder wouldn’t expect me to be fashionable, and no one will know us there.’ She thought for a moment. ‘There is also that black velvet skirt—if I borrow your silk blouse, that’ll do as well. I’ll only need skirts and blouses and sweaters during the day, and the navy jacket and dress will do to travel in.’
‘One or two summer dresses?’ suggested Mrs Crosby. ‘It’s July, love, it could be very warm.’
‘I’ll take a couple of cotton dresses. But I’m a bit vague about the weather there—for all I know it might even be getting cooler! I should have asked at the travel agents, but there was so much to discuss. I’m to drive us to Heathrow and leave the car there, and the flight should be easy enough. We’re to be met by a taxi at the airport and taken to the hotel in Bergen that Lady Cowder has chosen. She wants to spend a day or two there before we go to Olden; there’s a modern hotel there. It’s a small village on the edge of a fiord. I do wonder if Lady Cowder is going to like it. A whole month…’
‘Let’s hope she will get to know some of the people staying there. She plays bridge, doesn’t she? Hopefully so will they; that will give you some free time. I can’t think why she can’t go alone. She’s elderly, but she’s quite fit, and there would be plenty of help at the kind of hotels she stays at.’
‘I’d much rather have been left to caretake—but don’t forget all the extra money, Mother. And a month goes quickly enough.’
‘Money isn’t everything,’ observed Mrs Crosby.
‘No, but it does help…it is a stroke of luck.’
<
br /> Something she had to remind herself of during the next ten days, for Lady Cowder’s orders and counter-orders were continuous. Her entire wardrobe had to be inspected, pressed, packed—and then unpacked, because she had changed her mind as to what she would or would not take. Kate’s patience was sorely tried.
The ten days went quickly and Kate, busy from early morning until late at night, had little time to think her own thoughts. All the same, from time to time she thought about Mr Tait-Bouverie. She had to admit to herself that she would have liked to know more about him. ‘Not that he would remember me,’ she said to herself as she repacked Lady Cowder’s cases for the third time.
Mr Tait-Bouverie hadn’t forgotten her. The thought of her wove through his head like a bright ribbon, disrupting his erudite ponderings over the lectures he was to give at the various hospitals to which he had been invited in Norway. Only by an effort was he able to dismiss her from his mind as he stepped onto a platform and embarked on the very latest advances in paediatrics. It would not do, he told himself firmly; the girl was disrupting his work as well as his leisure hours. He even dreamed of her…
Surprisingly, the journey to Bergen went smoothly. Kate drove to Heathrow, deaf to Lady Cowder’s back-seat driving while she went over in her mind all the things she had to see about in order to get them safely to the hotel in Bergen. She guided her employer safely onto the plane, assured her for the tenth time that the car had been safely parked, that she had the tickets in her handbag, that the plane was perfectly safe and that they would be met at the airport in Norway.
Lady Cowder assumed the air of an invalid once on board, and asked wistfully for a glass of brandy—as she felt faint. She murmured, ‘My heart, you know,’ when the stewardess brought it to her, and she smiled bravely at the two passengers on the other side of the gangway. She then sank back with her eyes closed, and stayed that way until they were airborne and lunch was served.
‘Perhaps you would prefer just a little soup?’ suggested the stewardess.
‘How kind,’ murmured Lady Cowder. ‘But I believe that a small meal might give me the strength I shall need when we land.’
Kate listened to all of this nonsense with some amusement, tinged with dismay. A month of this and it would be she who would be the invalid, not Lady Cowder.
Lady Cowder was helped off the plane with great care, Kate following burdened with scarves, handbags and books. Once they were alone, Lady Cowder said sharply, ‘Well, don’t just stand there, Kate—find whoever it is who is to meet us.’
This was easily done, seeing that he was standing with a placard in his hand with Lady Cowder’s name on it. A pleasant man, he went with Kate to collect their luggage, settled Lady Cowder in the back of the car and held the door open for Kate.
‘Get in front, Kate,’ said Lady Cowder. ‘I need to be quiet for a time. I’m exhausted.’
Kate did as she was told, thinking thoughts best left unsaid, then cheered up in response to the driver’s friendliness.
There was so much to see as he drove; her spirits rose as he pointed out anything which he thought might interest her and by the time they reached Bergen, she was ready to enjoy every minute of their stay there. He indicated the fish market, the shops, and the funicular to the top of the mountain behind the town, then asked how long they would be staying.
‘Only two days. I don’t suppose I’ll have time to see everything, but I’ll do my best.’
An optimistic remark, as it turned out.
The Hotel Norje, in the centre of the town, was everything anyone could wish for—even Lady Cowder gave her opinion that it was comfortable. She had a splendid room overlooking the Ole Nulle Plass—a handsome square opening into a park—and an equally splendid bathroom.
‘You may unpack at once,’ she told Kate, ‘and phone for tea. You had better have a cup before you go to your room. I shall rest for an hour or so and dine later.’
Kate poured tea for both of them, unpacked Lady Cowder’s luggage and disposed of it in cupboards and drawers, only too aware that in a couple of days she would have to pack it all again. She did it silently and competently, then went down to Reception to collect her room key.
Her room was on the floor above Lady Cowder’s. It was nicely furnished, but lacked the flowers, bowl of fruit and comfortable chairs. There was no bathroom either; a small shower cubicle was curtained off in one corner. Kate unpacked what she would need for a day or so, showered, got into the mole crêpe and went back to her employer.
‘Go and get your dinner. You can tidy the room while I’m in the restaurant, and wait here. I shall probably need some help with getting to bed; I’m utterly exhausted.’
Kate, her tongue clenched between her splendid teeth, went down to the restaurant. Obviously Lady Cowder didn’t intend to eat with her housekeeper.
Not that Kate minded—she was hungry, and ate everything set before her—soup, cod, beautifully cooked, and a dessert of cloud berries and cream. She sat over her coffee, oblivious of the admiring glances cast at her. Despite the sombre dress, her lovely face and magnificent person made a striking picture. Indeed, several people wished her good evening as she left the restaurant, and she answered them with her serene smile.
She paused at the reception desk to ask about sending letters to England, accepted a free postcard, wrote on it then and there and left it for the receptionist to post, with the promise of paying for the stamp in the morning. She would have liked to have phoned her mother, but she had only a small amount of English money. She would have to go to a bank in the morning and change some of it.
Lady Cowder greeted her crossly. ‘What a very long time you have been, Kate. Had you forgotten that I was waiting for your return until I could go to dinner?’
Kate, mellowed by good food and the friendly glances she had received, said cheerfully, ‘You could have come down to the restaurant, Lady Cowder—there was no need to wait for me.’
Quite the wrong answer. ‘See that someone brings me a warm drink when I return, and tidy the room and bathroom. I sent the chambermaid away. I can’t find my travelling clock; you had better look for it.’
Kate found the clock, tidied the bathroom and sat down in one of the easy chairs to wait. She was going to earn every penny of that extra money, she reflected, but it would be worth it. She spent some time thinking about her plans for the future, and then allowed her thoughts to dwell on Mr Tait-Bouverie. She was sorry for him, having an aunt as disagreeable as Lady Cowder. She wondered if his mother was like her. Perhaps that was why he wasn’t married. To have a mother like that was bad enough, to be married to a woman of the same nature would be disastrous.
Her musings were cut short by Lady Cowder’s return. She declared that she must go to bed immediately—which didn’t prevent her from wanting this, that and the other before Kate was at last told that she might go.
In her room at last, Kate took a quick shower and got into bed. Her last thought was one of thankfulness that Lady Cowder was going to have her breakfast in bed and didn’t wish to be disturbed until ten o’clock. A splendid chance to nip out directly after she had had breakfast and take a quick look at the town.
Kate woke early and got up at once. It was a grey morning, but that didn’t deter her from her plan. She went downstairs and found several other people breakfasting. They greeted her pleasantly and waved her towards the enormous centre-table loaded with dishes of herrings, cheese, bacon, eggs and sausages. It seemed that one helped oneself and ate all one wanted. She piled her plate, asked for coffee, and sat down at a table by herself, only to be invited to join a group of young men and women close by. They were on holiday, they told her, on their way to the north of the country. When she told them that she knew nothing of Norway, they told her where to go and what to see.
‘You are alone?’ they asked.
‘No. I’m travelling with an elderly lady—I’m her housekeeper in England.’
‘So you are not free?’
‘No. Onl
y for an hour or two when it is convenient for her.’
‘Then you must not lose time. The shops will be open soon, but the fish market is already busy. Go quickly and look there; it is a splendid sight.’
It was an easy walk down the main shopping street, and well worth a visit. It wasn’t just the fish, although they were both colourful and splendid, it was the flower stalls, bulging with flowers every colour of the rainbow. Kate went from one to the other and longed to buy the great bunches of roses and carnations, thinking how delightful it would be to buy a whole salmon and take it back home. Impossible, of course. She caught sight of a clock and hurried back in time to present herself in Lady Cowder’s room.
There was no reply to her civil good morning.
‘Go down to the desk and arrange for a car to drive us out to Troldhaugen—Edward Grieg, the composer, lived there—we will return here for lunch. Make sure that the driver is a steady man.’
Kate, not sure how she was to do that, decided to ignore it and hope for the best. Their driver turned out to be a youngish man who spoke excellent English and was full of information. Kate listened to every word, but Lady Cowder closed her eyes and asked Kate to give her the smelling salts.
They had to walk a short distance to the house, something which they hadn’t known about. Lady Cowder, in unsuitable shoes, declared that the walk would tire her, but rather grudgingly agreed to Kate having a quick look.
There were other tourists there with their guides, but Kate, given a strict ten minutes, didn’t dare linger.
All the same, when she returned to the car, she was expected to give an account of what she had seen. Kate suspected that when they returned to England and Lady Cowder met her friends again she would wish to recount her activities in Norway. A little knowledge of Grieg’s house and Kate’s impressions of it would be useful in conversation…
Kate didn’t escape for the rest of that day. Lady Cowder had little desire to stroll around looking at the shops; certainly the fish market had no attraction. She intended to take the funicular to the top of Mount Floyen.
