The Fortunes of Francesca

by Betty Neels

‘You can’t love her—she’s managed to catch you...’

  ‘Shall we consider that remark unsaid?’ He spoke quietly, his voice icy now. He turned and walked away and joined the group around Franny, and then, unnoticed, left the room. There was a phone in the hall; his call was brief.

  Barker was on the point of announcing dinner when the phone rang and he went to answer it. Instead of giving the expected summons to the table he crossed the room to the professor and murmured in his ear.

  Marc said, ‘I’m wanted on the phone; so sorry to delay things. Why not go in without me?’

  They were indeed going unhurriedly to the dining room when he touched Franny on the shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Franny, I’m wanted, I’m afraid. I must go at once.’ He smiled at the looks and murmurs of sympathy. ‘Would you like to stay?’

  She gave him such a speaking look that he almost laughed out loud. ‘If Lady Trumper wouldn’t mind, I’d like to come with you. It might be something...’

  She was saved from inventing the something by his brisk reply. ‘Then let us bid Lady Trumper goodbye at once.’

  She looked up at him. ‘It’s very urgent?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Amid a chorus of regretful goodbyes they made their apologies and said their farewells to Lady Trumper, and if Franny thought that Marc was curt in his manner she put it down to his anxiety to get to the hospital. Barker, looking almost human, wrapped her coat around her and bowed them out, and Franny was bustled into the car.

  She kept quiet for a few minutes while Marc drove and then she ventured, ‘Are you going straight to the hospital? I can easily get a taxi from there.’

  ‘We’re going home...’

  ‘Auntie—oh, why didn’t I guess? It’s Auntie! Can’t you drive faster, Marc?’

  ‘Auntie, to the best of my knowledge, is in good health. We will stop for a few minutes while I speak to Crisp and then we will spend the evening dining and dancing.’

  Franny turned to look at him. ‘Marc, I don’t understand. Isn’t there a patient?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But why have we left?’

  He spoke in the same quiet, cold voice which had shaken Lady Trumper. ‘I do not choose to stay under the roof of anyone who insults me.’

  ‘Not Lady Trumper? Insulting you? I can’t imagine anyone doing that...’ She frowned. ‘Did she insult you or was it me?’

  He turned his head to look at her. ‘Anyone who insults you, insults me, Francesca.’

  ‘Oh, dear, I’m sorry. It’s spoilt your evening. And what a waste of a new dress. I very nearly didn’t buy it, it was so expensive. I wish I hadn’t now.’

  ‘I’m very glad you did buy it. It is a beautiful dress and you look lovely in it. We’ll go and show it off on the dance floor.’

  ‘Well, I never,’ said Franny chattily. ‘And, do you know, I thought you never noticed what I was wearing?’

  She was silent then, digesting the fact that he had said that she looked lovely. He hadn’t meant it, of course, but it was nice all the same...

  At the flat they went in together, and Franny told Auntie in a few breathless sentences what had happened while the professor went in search of Crisp.

  He was only gone for a few minutes; she bade Auntie a happy goodbye and got back into the car with Marc. She wondered if there would be a table for them without a previous booking, but she didn’t ask.

  They were given a splendid table at the restaurant Marc chose and, conscious that she looked her best, Franny accepted a glass of champagne and then studied the menu. With quiet prompting from the professor she chose darioles of salmon à la Muscovite, roast wild duck with orange sauce and then a Milanaise soufflé.

  She ate the salmon with unselfconscious pleasure, and the professor, watching her with an equal pleasure, suggested that they might dance before the duck was served.

  ‘I haven’t danced for years,’ said Franny, but she got up promptly and slid into his arms, as light as thistledown. In earlier, happier years, she had danced a lot. It was like riding a bicycle—once learned, never forgotten.

  As for the professor, he became aware that, now that Franny was in his arms, he had no wish to let her go...

  They ate the duck, drank the champagne and danced again before the soufflé. After their meal the professor lifted a finger and the waiter was at their table in a twinkling. Marc was a man who would always receive attention at once, thought Franny, watching him tell the man that they would have coffee later.

  By mutual consent they danced again, and went on dancing, and after they had drunk their coffee Marc said, ‘One more dance before we go home?’

  ‘Do you have to go to the hospital tomorrow?’ asked Franny, craning her neck to see his face.

  ‘Yes, I’ve a list starting at nine o’clock, a clinic in the afternoon and a patient to visit on my way home.’ He didn’t say more than that.

  They talked about their evening casually as they drove home, and it wasn’t until they were in the drawing room that Franny said, ‘I’m sorry about this evening—I mean, Lady Trumper. It was very unpleasant for you.’

  ‘I had quite forgotten about her,’ he told her placidly, which wasn’t true, of course. He would have liked to wring the woman’s neck...

  ‘Oh, good. Thank you for a lovely evening.’

  ‘It is I who must thank you, Franny. We must do it again sometime.’

  She wished him goodnight then, and went up to her room because she could see that he didn’t want her there any longer. Not that he had given any sign of it; she supposed it was because she loved him that she was instinctively aware of that.

  She stood for a long time in front of the pier glass in her bedroom, studying her reflection. The dress was perfect—it had been worth every penny. And later, ready for bed in her nightie, her hair hanging loose around her shoulders, she went and had another look at the dress hanging in the closet. It might be a long time before she wore it again.

  * * *

  AS IT TURNED out that seemed likely. Marc, home late after a long day, told her that he would be leaving in a few days’ time to go on a lecture tour. ‘I go in three or four days,’ he told her, ‘after I deal with appointments already made and take an afternoon clinic.’

  She made her voice merely friendly. ‘Will you be away long?’

  ‘A week or ten days; I’ll be in Israel.’

  She forgot to be merely friendly. ‘Marc—but it’s not safe there—supposing...? Oh, do be careful. Must you go?’

  ‘Yes, it is a long-standing commitment.’ He was staring at her. ‘I shall be quite safe, Franny.’

  She ventured, ‘You wouldn’t like me to come with you?’

  ‘Very much, but, no, I think not.’

  She reminded herself that it was his work; that was what mattered to him, never mind the hazards which went with it. She said in a bright voice, ‘I dare say you’ll be able to phone...’

  ‘Oh, yes. Will you miss me, Franny?’

  She bent her head over an imaginary piece of fluff on her skirt. ‘Oh, yes, of course I shall. We shall all miss you.’

  She was quite unable to still the little quiver in her voice as she spoke.

  ‘While I am away there is something I should like you to do. I have bought the mews cottage next door to the garage behind the house. I believe that Auntie might like to live there, don’t you? It would be another home for Finn, if he should feel like it. Would you take her over there and see what she thinks?’

  ‘Marc—she’ll love it. She’ll have her own home again.’ She added doubtfully, ‘She’s very independent.’

  ‘I realise that. Try and make her see that I regard her as family and remind her that families share amongst themselves.’

  ‘Very well, I’ll do my best. Do you want to tell her ab
out it?’

  ‘Not before I leave. I’m going to be early away and late home for the next few days.’

  He was shutting her out, politely and kindly. Most wives would have been fussing around, packing his bag, reminding him to look after his passport and to let her know the minute he arrived and above all to take care. But she wasn’t that kind of wife. Crisp would pack his bag and there was a note on the pad on his desk—exactly where he would be, phone numbers if he should be wanted urgently, a number she could ring if necessary.

  * * *

  HE WAS TO leave for Israel very early that morning. Franny, pattering along to the dining room in her dressing gown, found him at the table, with Crisp offering toast and more coffee. She sat down and took the coffee he offered her and wished them both good morning, adding that it looked as though it was going to be a fine day.

  It was an optimistic remark, since the sun was barely above the horizon, but it was something to say. She wished very much she could tell him to come home quickly and safely because she loved him and to be without him was intolerable, but of course that would never do. She voiced the thought out loud.

  ‘What a pity one may not say exactly what one wants to say. I mean, who cares about the weather? All the thoughts inside one’s head which may not be uttered...’ The professor put down his cup, aware at last that all his efforts not to fall in love with Franny had been in vain. He said softly, ‘Francesca...’

  Too late. Crisp came back into the room to say that the car was outside and the professor was cutting it fine if he wanted to get his flight.

  The professor looked at Franny, rosy from sleep, her hair all over the place, and knew suddenly that there was a great deal more to life than work. There was love—and unfortunately no time to tell her so. He got up, bent and kissed her hard and went away.

  Franny sat and thought about that kiss; she hadn’t been kissed very often and never like that. He would be back in ten days’ time at the latest; perhaps he would kiss her again. She mustn’t get too excited, she told herself, he might have been carried away on the spur of the moment.

  She told Auntie about the mews cottage later that day, and, once she had got over her surprise and expressed herself unable to live on Marc’s bounty, Auntie consented to go and see it.

  ‘But I refuse to be beholden to the dear man, Franny. He has done so much for us already and he’s so good with Finn—like a big brother.’

  ‘You’ll stay with us, then?’ asked Franny cunningly.

  ‘Good gracious, no. I am here as a guest, but only for the moment.’

  ‘But when it was suggested that you might like to live somewhere near us you were quite pleased.’

  ‘I wasn’t quite myself. After all, I have my pension; I can find a bed-sitting room.’

  They fell silent, because of course that was nonsense. Presently Franny said, ‘Auntie, Marc is going to be deeply hurt if you refuse his offer. He thinks of you as family—and he saved your life, didn’t he? Now he wants to see you enjoying it again. Don’t you see that if you go off somewhere on your own he will be worrying about you? He works so hard and worries enough about his patients, although he never says so. He shouldn’t have to worry about us as well. We’re his family now, to make his home really home, and not just a place where he comes back to sleep and eat.’

  Auntie sat up very straight. ‘I have been selfish and foolish. It would be delightful to live in my own little house and yet be close to you.’

  Franny got up and gave her a hug. ‘Good. Let’s go now; it’s only a couple of minutes’ walk.’

  The cottage was delightful. Crisp had given Franny the keys and she opened its small door into a tiny hall and then a living room. There was a small kitchen and a little staircase leading to two bedrooms and a bathroom. It was in good repair—the walls distempered, the floors sound.

  ‘Marc said you were to choose the decorating and the furniture. Crisp will arrange for someone to come with wallpaper and samples; you only have to tell him.’

  ‘You mean, I can start straight away?’

  Franny nodded. ‘Just tell Crisp what you want; it seems he can arrange for the decorators to start as soon as you wish.’

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ said Auntie. And then, ‘A pretty wallpaper in the living room, and pale yellow walls in the kitchen. Carpets?’

  ‘Fitted everywhere, don’t you think? And curtains...?’

  Auntie was weeping happily. ‘My dear, I never thought to be as happy as this again. Fish Street and then William and being ill—they’re like a bad dream.’

  ‘You’ll have made Marc happy too,’ said Franny.

  * * *

  DESPITE THE HUSTLE and bustle of organising the cottage the days dragged for Franny. The professor had phoned from Israel; he had had a good flight, he told her, the hotel was comfortable, he would be there for three days and then he was going on his tour. And he had rung again some days later. The tour was successful so far; he hoped to be back in five days’ time.

  Franny crossed the days off the kitchen calendar like a child.

  The last day came, and she phoned the airport to check the time of arrival. The flight had been delayed, she was told. A lightning strike had upset the schedule and, no, at the moment they had no idea at what time the plane would arrive. At midnight, still without news, Franny went to bed with Crisp’s promise that he would wake her the minute the professor returned. She stayed awake for some time, before she finally fell into a heavy sleep and woke to find broad daylight. She flung on her dressing gown and met Crisp in the hall.

  ‘He’s back?’

  ‘Yes, madam, four o’clock this morning. There is a note for you on the breakfast table.’

  ‘You promised to wake me, Crisp.’

  ‘The professor forbade me, madam. He said on no account were you to be disturbed until you woke.’

  ‘But where is he?’

  ‘At the hospital. Left here at six o’clock. He was asked for urgently.’

  ‘But he hasn’t been to bed. He’ll be exhausted...’

  ‘If I may say so, madam, the professor is never exhausted. He tells me he slept on the flight, and I gave him a good breakfast.’

  ‘Crisp, you’re a treasure, and thank you. Did he say when he was coming home?’

  ‘It depends on what he finds at the hospital.’

  ‘I’d like to ring him but I won’t; he’ll be busy. I’ll get dressed, anyway. You must be tired, Crisp. I could cook my own breakfast. Why don’t you go and rest for a bit?’

  ‘I had sufficient sleep, madam. Thank you for the kind thought. I will take a brief nap this afternoon. A nice dish of scrambled eggs for you and Mrs Blake? In twenty minutes or so?’

  Franny took Marc’s note back to her room and sat down to read it on the bed. It was short and businesslike: he had been called to St Giles’ urgently and might be delayed for some time. That was all. She read it through several times, trying to breathe warmth into the few words without success. He would come home just as soon as he could, she told herself.

  She spent the morning helping Auntie to choose material for curtains and had a long talk with Finn on the phone. Life was great, he assured her, and he’d met this girl—a fellow student.

  ‘I told Marc about her and he said to bring her along to meet us one evening. You’ll like her.’

  ‘I’m sure I shall,’ said Franny warmly. ‘Have you known each other long?’

  ‘Last week.’

  ‘So how did Marc know about her?’

  ‘Well, I told him, didn’t I? Saw him this morning at St Giles’; he’d been in Theatre.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Franny. ‘He had to go in early. He had hardly any sleep—didn’t get home till the early hours.’

  ‘He looked on top of the world.’

 
Franny thought about that later. What reason would he have for that? The tour had been successful, but he wasn’t a man to broadcast his success, and if it had been something really marvellous why hadn’t he woken her up and told her?

  She pecked at her lunch, saw Auntie into bed for her afternoon nap and went to look out of the window. The Rolls was in the street below. Marc was back, seeing patients in his rooms. He would be coming as soon as he had finished there.

  She went along to the kitchen, and, since Crisp had gone to his room to catch up on his sleep, she cut sandwiches—Gentleman’s Relish, cucumber, and egg and cress—and arranged some of Crisp’s little cakes on a dish.

  That done, and unable to sit still, she went back to the window. The Rolls was still there. She went off to her room and did her face again and tidied her already neat hair, and then took another peek from the window.

  ‘This is silly,’ she told herself, and went and sat down as far away from the window as possible, leafing through a magazine until Crisp came to ask her at what time she would like tea.

  ‘Well, I see the professor’s in his rooms; I thought we’d wait for a while in case he comes.’ She added apologetically, ‘Crisp, I made some sandwiches, I hope you don’t mind.’

  He gave her a fatherly smile. ‘A splendid idea, madam, the professor enjoys a sandwich. No doubt very welcome after all that eastern food he’s had to eat.’

  Auntie came in presently, picked up her knitting and began to talk about the cottage. Once or twice she glanced at the handsome carriage clock on its wall bracket; it was past tea time and she longed for a cup of tea. She asked presently, ‘Has Marc been home, dear?’

  ‘Not here. He’s been in his rooms all the afternoon, though. I expect he’ll come soon. I thought we’d wait tea...’

  But when five o’clock struck and there was no sign of Marc, they had their tea and Auntie, at least, enjoyed the sandwiches. Franny drank her tea and got up to look out of the window once more. Mrs Willett was leaving the house. That meant there were no more patients. She heaved a sigh of relief and sat down again, her ear straining to hear his key in the door.

  But he didn’t come, and after another half-hour she went to the window yet again. The Rolls was there, so he was alone in his rooms. She was sure of that for he never saw patients unless his nurse or Mrs Willett were there. And his nurse had been given a holiday while he was away.