Love Can Wait

by Betty Neels

  ‘I’m glad everything is so delightful, Mother. Take care, won’t you? I’ll be with you in four days. I’ll find out the best way to travel. Train to Chichester, I expect, and then a bus…’

  ‘Oh, I dare say,’ said Mrs Crosby airily. Much later it struck Kate that her mother had shown very little interest in her journey. It was going to be an awkward one, what with the luggage and the cats…

  Mrs Willett, well again and eager to resume her place in the household, took over the cooking from Kate at once. ‘You’ll need to pack up,’ she pointed out. ‘I must say you’ve kept the cottage very nice, and Mr Tombs told me that Mrs Braithewaite was very satisfied with your work.’

  Kate replied suitably and, given a free afternoon, began the task of packing the two suitcases she would have to take with her—watched with deep suspicion by Horace and Moggerty, who got into the cases each time she opened them. ‘You’re coming with me,’ she assured them, and wondered where all of them would finally end up. Chichester sounded nice; if they could find a small house there… She would have to go to the bank, too, and if she could get the money she wanted she would begin the slow process of building up the home catering business. Kate sighed. There was a lot to do before she could get started. ‘But at least we’ve saved more money than we expected to,’ she told the cats, and if I can get a part-time job to start with…’

  The last day came. She was to leave in the early afternoon and take a train from Bath—an awkward journey, but she had worked it out carefully. She had her breakfast, made sure that the cottage was exactly as Mrs Willett wanted it to be, and, bidden by Tombs, went to say goodbye to Mrs Braithewaite.

  ‘You’re a good cook,’ said that lady. ‘They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,’ she chuckled. ‘I wish you well, Kate.’

  Kate thanked her. She wanted to point out that it wasn’t only men she intended to cater for—birthday parties, family gatherings, even weddings were what she aimed for—but there was no point in saying so. She said goodbye in her quiet manner and went down to the kitchen. They would be having their morning coffee, and she could do with a cup.

  So, it seemed, could Mr Tait-Bouverie, sitting there with a mug in one hand and a hunk of cake in the other. He put both down as she went in, watched the surprised delight in her face with deep satisfaction and got to his feet.

  ‘Good morning, Kate. I’ll drive you down to Bosham; I’m on my way there now.’

  She had wiped the delight from her face and found her voice.

  ‘I’ve booked a taxi…’

  ‘Tombs has cancelled it. I’ll go and say goodbye to my aunt while you have your coffee and then collect your things and the cats from the cottage.’

  Mrs Willett chimed in. ‘That’s right, dear, you sit down for five minutes. Mr James will let you know when he is ready.’

  Kate sat. There really wasn’t much else she could do without making a fuss. There would be time enough to tell him what she thought of his high-handed actions once they were in the car.

  Once they were on their way, with the cats on the back seat and the luggage in the boot, she found it difficult to begin. She mulled over several tart comments as to his behaviour, but they didn’t sound right in her head and would probably come out all wrong if she uttered them.

  ‘I’m waiting,’ said Mr Tait-Bouverie.

  ‘Waiting for what?’

  ‘The tart reprimand I feel sure is quivering on your lip. Oh, and quite justified too. I have no business to interfere with your life, I ride roughshod over your plans, I turn up without warning and order you about. I am, in short, a tiresome fellow.’

  Which was exactly what she had intended to say herself. She thought how much she loved him even when he annoyed her. He had been kind and helpful and, more than that, they had been friends. He might be going to marry Claudia—although how he could love the girl was something she would never know—but she thought that he liked her…

  ‘Well, you do arrange things, don’t you?’ she said. ‘I mean without saying so, but I expect that’s because you’re used to doing it at the hospital. I’ve been ungrateful and snappy. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Good. We understand each other. Try calling me James.’

  ‘No,’ said Kate. ‘How can I do that when I’ve cooked dinner for you?’

  ‘Do you mean to tell me that when my wife cooks my dinner she will refuse to call me James?’

  ‘Of course not. This is a silly question.’ She added, ‘Can Claudia cook?’

  ‘Most unlikely, but Mudd, my man, is capable of that.’

  She didn’t see his smile.

  It wasn’t any good; she couldn’t go on being vexed with him. Anyway, it was a waste of time for he had an answer for everything. Presently she found herself telling him of her plans, comfortably aware that he was listening—indeed, was making helpful suggestions.

  She was quietly happy, even though she knew that the happiness wouldn’t last. Each time they had met she had told herself that she wouldn’t see him again, but there had always been a next time. These few hours together really would be the last. He had said that he wouldn’t be going down to the cottage while they were there, and why should he? He had his own busy life and his marriage to plan. Her heart gave a painful twist at the thought.

  She was enchanted by Bosham when they reached it, and when he stopped outside the cottage she stuck her head out of the window to take a better look.

  ‘It’s yours? It’s lovely. Couldn’t you live here always? It’s not very far to London, is it?’

  ‘No, but it’s too far to travel there and back every day. Besides, I have a very pleasant house in London.’

  He had got out and opened her door and she stood outside beside him, looking around her. It was, in Kate’s opinion, quite large for a cottage, but it had a thatched roof and a number of small windows, and a solid door in a porch. Although summer was long over there were chrysanthemums and late roses, and a firethorn against one wall, vivid scarlet against the grey stone.

  The door had opened and Mr Tait-Bouverie took her arm and urged her up the short path. Mudd was there, waiting for them, bidding them good day and casting a sharp eye over Kate. Very nice too, he considered, and ushered them into the narrow hall.

  ‘Mrs Crosby is in the sitting room,’ he informed them. ‘Mrs Squires will serve lunch in half an hour, sir. I will see to the luggage and the cats.’

  Mr Tait-Bouverie gave Kate a small shove. ‘The sitting room’s there, on the left. Go on in. I’ll come presently; I must speak to Mudd.’

  So Kate went in through the half-open door and found her mother waiting for her.

  ‘Kate, dear. Oh, how lovely to see you. I’ve not been lonely for one moment. Mrs Squires is marvellous, and there’s so much to do—and Mudd came this morning, and Prince too. You’re all right? Mrs Braithewaite was pleasant? And the others? And did you have a good trip?’

  Kate hugged her mother. ‘Mother, you look marvellous. Are you all right? Was the doctor pleased with you? Are you eating well and sleeping?’

  ‘Yes to that, my dear. I never felt better. I still get a bit tired, but that’s normal. Another two weeks and I shall be better than I’ve been for a long time.’

  Kate took off her coat, looking around her. The room was low-ceilinged and quite large, with a wide hearth with a brisk fire burning. The walls were cream, and there was a number of pictures. She would look at those later. The furniture was exactly right—deep armchairs, a wide sofa on either side of the hearth, and little lamp-tables—antiques, just as the bow-fronted cabinet against one wall was antique. There was a beautiful sofa-table with a bowl of chrysanthemums on it, and a charming little desk in one corner.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ said Kate.

  Mr Tait-Bouverie came in then, with the cat baskets, and Prince prancing beside him. To Mrs Crosby’s expressed worries that Prince would eat the cats up Mr Tait-Bouverie said placidly, ‘They’ll be quite safe,’ and let them out. Prince sat, obedient
to his master’s quiet voice, while Horace and Moggerty prowled cautiously round the room and presently climbed into a chair and sat, eyeing Prince, who lay down, put his head between his paws and went to sleep.

  They drank their sherry, then, and Mrs Crosby and Mr Tait-Bouverie carried on a pleasant conversation about nothing much—and if they noticed that Kate had very little to say they didn’t comment upon it.

  They had lunch presently, but they didn’t linger over it; Mr Tait-Bouverie had to return to London, taking Mudd and Prince with him, so that the cottage seemed suddenly very empty. Kate, watching the car disappear down the lane, reflected that he had said nothing about seeing them again. He had bidden her mother a cheerful goodbye, and when Kate had begun to thank him for driving her down and waved her thanks aside with a brief goodbye which had left her downcast. She deserved it, of course; she had said some awful things to him. She went red just remembering.

  The rest of the cottage was just as perfect as the sitting room. Her bedroom wasn’t over large, but the bed and the dressing table were dainty Regency, and the curtains and bedspread were pale pink and cream. The pink was echoed in the little armchair by the window and the lamps on either side of the bed. Her mother’s room was larger and just as pretty. ‘The loveliest room is at the back,’ said Mrs Crosby. ‘It’s large with its own bathroom; I peeped in one day.’

  Her mother was happy. After the places they had been living in, this must remind her of the house she had had when Kate’s father had been alive. Kate would have to find work quickly and postpone her catering once more; with a decent job they could afford to live in a better house. There was the money she had saved—some of it could be used to pay rent…

  ‘I shall go to Chichester tomorrow,’ said Kate. ‘And find an agency.’

  ‘Darling, you’ve only just got here. James assured me that there was no hurry for us to leave. It’s too late in the year for him to sail and he has a great deal of work, he told me.’

  ‘Did he say when he was getting married?’ asked Kate casually.

  Her mother hesitated. ‘Well, no, dear, not exactly.’

  Kate said quickly, ‘I’ll feed the cats. They seem to have settled down nicely. Mrs Squires won’t mind if I go into the kitchen?’

  ‘Of course not, Kate. Now you’re here, she said she would just come for a couple of hours in the mornings and then for an hour or so to see to the dishes after lunch. She’ll be glad not to have to come out in the evening now it’s getting dark early.’

  It seemed a suitable arrangement. ‘I’ll come whenever you want me,’ Mrs Squires told Kate the next day. ‘If you’re wanting to go away and don’t like to leave your mother, just you say.’

  ‘Thank you, I might be glad of that. I must go and look for a job. I thought Chichester…’

  ‘As good a place as any,’ said Mrs Squires. ‘There’s a good agency in the High Street, and plenty of hotels and big houses in and around the town.’

  Kate didn’t go to Chichester. The weather was bright but chilly, and her mother wanted to explore Bosham. ‘I’m quite able to walk,’ she declared. ‘And it is such a delightful little place. Besides, I want to hear your plans. If you could find somewhere cheap where we could live, you could start cooking…but do you have to go to the bank first?’

  Mrs Crosby spoke with an overbright cheerfulness which caused Kate to give her a thoughtful look. Kate had had a wakeful night. She must face the future with common sense and set aside her dreams of starting a catering business. Seeing her mother so happy in the charming little cottage, living the kind of life they had led when her father had been alive, she realised that she must plan and decide on a different future.

  She said now, ‘There’s plenty of time to make plans, and it’s a good day for a walk. Shall we go down to the harbour?’

  Her mother’s face lit up.

  They had a very happy day, exploring the little village at their leisure. There weren’t many people and they spent a pleasant half-hour having coffee in a small café empty of other customers. ‘A bit quiet,’ said the owner, ‘but it’s busy enough at the weekend—they come down to overhaul their boats and do a bit of painting and such. Staying long, are you?’

  ‘A week or so,’ said Kate cautiously.

  ‘Very nice it is at Mr Tait-Bouverie’s cottage. Keeps it nice, he does, and always has a friendly word. Got a lot of friends here.’ She added, ‘Mrs Squires is my sister-in-law.’

  On the way back Kate said, ‘Perhaps we had better be a bit careful what we say in front of Mrs Squires, but I suppose in a small place there’s always a bit of gossip.’

  That night, lying in bed wide awake, Kate thought about their future. She discarded the idea of finding work in Chichester—it was too near the cottage and Bosham, and there would be the risk of meeting James when he spent his weekends there. He would have Claudia with him… She wouldn’t be able to bear seeing them together. She would have to think up a good reason for moving away where she would never see him again.

  Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would get a copy of The Lady and look for a job—preferably in the north or along the east coast. She would have to give her mother a good reason for that, too. She could see now that there would be little chance of her starting up on her own, not for several years.

  Not that it mattered any more—the future unrolled before her with no James in it. She thrust the thought aside and concentrated on a possible move to a job which would be suitable. There was her mother to consider, and the cats. They would need a roof over their heads and a decent wage. If she abandoned her catering plans there wouldn’t be the need to scrape and scrimp. They would go out more, buy new clothes—enjoy life!

  Having made these suitable arrangements, Kate had a good cry and fell asleep at last.

  She awoke very early and, rather than lie there thinking of the same unhappy things, she got out of bed and looked out of the window. It was a grey morning and still not light. A cup of tea would be nice, and she might go to sleep again. She didn’t wait to put on her dressing gown but crept barefoot down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  Mr Tait-Bouverie was sitting on the kitchen table, the teapot beside him, a slice of bread and butter in his hand. He looked up as she paused in the doorway and said, ‘Good morning, Kate,’ and smiled at her.

  Kate’s heart beat so loudly and so fast that she thought he must surely hear it. She drew a difficult breath. ‘How did you get in?’

  He looked surprised. ‘I have a key.’

  ‘Is something the matter? Do you want something?’

  ‘Nothing is the matter. I do want something, but that can wait for the moment. Would you like some tea?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

  He got up and fetched another mug from the dresser. ‘Then run upstairs and get a dressing gown and slippers. You look charming, but you distract me.’

  Kate said, ‘Oh,’ and fled back to her room and wrapped herself tightly in the sensible garment she had had for years. It concealed her completely, and would never wear out. At least it covered the cheap cotton nightie she was wearing.

  She went back downstairs, feeling shy. Mr Tait-Bouverie’s glance slid over her person with the lack of interest of someone reading yesterday’s newspaper, so that she felt instantly comfortable. She sat down by the Aga and, since she longed to look at him, she kept her eyes on Prince, snoozing comfortably between Moggerty and Horace.

  Presently she asked the question which had been on the tip of her tongue. ‘Is Claudia with you?’

  He looked amused. ‘No.’

  ‘She knows you are here?’

  ‘No. Why should she?’

  ‘Well, if it was me,’ said Kate, throwing grammar to the winds, ‘I’d want to know.’

  ‘Well, shall we throw Claudia out of the window, metaphorically speaking? She’s no concern of mine. I can’t think why you’ve dragged her into the conversation.’

  ‘We weren’t having a conversation. And how can you tal
k like that about her when you are going to marry her?’ She added defiantly, ‘Lady Cowder said so.’

  ‘One of my least likeable aunts. I have no intention of marrying Claudia. I don’t like her, Mudd doesn’t like her, Prince doesn’t like her…’

  ‘Then why are you here?’

  ‘Because I have something to say to you. On several occasions I have tried to do so and each time I have been thwarted. Now you are in my house, in my kitchen, and I shall speak my mind.’

  Kate got up. ‘I said I was sorry, and I am. I didn’t mean any of the things I said…’

  ‘Well, of course you didn’t.’ He had come to stand very near her, and when she would have taken a prudent step back he folded his great arms around her, wrapping her so close that she could feel his heart beating under her ear.

  ‘I’ve been in love with you for a very long time now, my darling, and I have waited for you to discover that you loved me, too—and that hasn’t been easy. Such a hoity-toity miss, hiding behind her cook’s apron…’

  ‘Well, I am a cook,’ said Kate into his shirt-front, and then, because she was an honest girl, she said, ‘But I do love you, James.’

  He put a gentle finger under her chin, smiling down at her. He kissed her then, slowly and with the greatest of pleasure, for this was the moment he had waited for. Kate kissed him back and then paused to ask, ‘Mother! What about Mother…?’

  ‘Hush, my love. Your mother and I have had a little talk. She is happy to live here with Mrs Squires to look after her. We shall come down whenever I’m free. You won’t mind living in London? I have a house there, a pleasant place.’

  Kate reflected that she would live in a rabbit hutch as long as she was with James. ‘It sounds very nice,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, it is.’ Hardly a good description of the charming little house overlooking the river.

  Something in his voice made her ask, ‘James, are you rich?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. Don’t let it worry you, my love.’