Roses Have Thorns

by Betty Neels

  Uncannily hitting the nail on the head, he said now, "Mrs. Boot was my nanny, Sarah, and I've known her and Meg ever since I can remember." He saw her frown. "Oh, you're wondering why that should be when I was born and brought up in Holland. We always came over to my grandmother's house, which is now mine, for school holidays. I suppose that eventually I shall return to my home in Holland and follow the same pattern with my own children."

  A remark which saddened her-he watched the sadness reflected in her face, and his eyes were no longer steely but a bright blue. He said easily, "Do you know this part of the world at all?"

  She shook her head, and he began a rambling colloquy which needed no replies, and when Meg brought the eggs and poured their tea the talk was all of local happenings and Dick's rheumatics. Very much cheered by Meg's splendid tea, Sarah began to feel a great deal better. She had been silly, she could see that now, and the Professor had been very nice about it. All the same, she would avoid him in the future. There was a side to him which she was only just beginning to discover-under that cold, impersonal manner was someone quite different and exciting.

  She finished her tea, thanked Meg nicely and got back into the car. She sat silently, rehearsing what she would say to Mevrouw Nauta. She supposed she would have supper with them, but she could plead a headache directly after.

  They went into the house together with Trotter bounding ahead, and Sarah went at once to the sitting-room where Mevrouw Nauta liked to sit and write her letters. At the door she paused and looked back at the Professor, standing in the hall still. "Thank you for-for finding me," she said. "You've been very kind."

  She didn't much care for his smile. She drew a heartening breath and opened the door.

  Mevrouw Nauta made light of the matter. "Oh, I quite understand," she told Sarah, "and it was most thoughtful of you to give us the opportunity to spend the day together. It was only by chance that Radolf discovered that you weren't at the vicarage and that you had been seen going towards Swinbrook. You poor child, your day off hasn't been very successful. We must do better next week."

  That left supper to get through, thought Sarah as she went to her room. She stayed there until the very last minute, sitting on her bed thinking about the Professor. He wasn't likely to come again until the weekend, and she would have to think of something before then so that they wouldn't need to meet. It was a lowering thought, but at least she would see him for another few hours.

  When she went down to the drawing-room with barely two minutes before the gong would sound and no time for a drink, Mevrouw Nauta was alone. "There you are, Sarah, come and keep me company. I always feel lonely when Radolf goes away."

  Sarah perched on a chair. "Oh-he's gone?"

  "Why, yes, my dear. Unexpectedly-he phoned someone or other and told me that he would have to drive up to London straight away."

  Which serves me right, thought Sarah, but he'll come again, and even if I only see him for a minute or two…

  Not even for a minute or two, as it turned out. There was no sign of him at the next weekend, nor for the following one either, and at the end of the week Mevrouw Nauta was to return to Holland. Sarah, who took her duties seriously, drove her employer through the surrounding countryside in the car, accompanied her in the pony trap, gardened under her direction when old Wills allowed it, and commented suitably on Mevrouw Nauta's flow of conversation. She fetched and carried, too, found lost library books, unpicked knitting, discussed clothes and generally made herself useful.

  The last day came, and she packed for the pair of them. Knott was to fetch her during the morning and the Professor, said his mother vaguely, was sending someone to collect her and drive her to his London home. "He will go back with me for a few days. His father will be glad to see him." She said happily, "I have so enjoyed my little holiday, Sarah, and you have been a delightful companion. I shall miss you. I hope we shall see something of each other…"

  "I expect I shall be with Lady Wesley," said Sarah, "and I dare say you visit her sometimes?"

  "Indeed I do." She paused, listening. "I think that is Knott, come to fetch you."

  "I ought to wait and see you safely on your way," began Sarah, and stopped as the door opened and the Professor came in.

  He bade them good morning, kissed his mother and looked at Sarah. "Knott is outside if you're ready, Sarah. Thank you for looking after my mother so well." He opened the door again, and she shook Mevrouw Nauta's hand and smiled rather uncertainly at them both as she went past him to the hall where Mrs. Boot was waiting.

  "There, now," said that good-natured soul. "I'm sorry to see you go, Miss Sarah. A real help you've been."

  Sarah shook hands again, and went outside to find Knott by the car, which was standing side by side with the Professor's. She wished with her whole heart that the Professor hadn't come; he had dismissed her like a stranger, and she supposed miserably that that was how she would remember him.

  She wished Knott a polite good morning, put Charles in his basket into the back of the car and then got in beside Knott. Mrs. Boot was at the door waving, and she waved back as Knott asked, "Had a good time, have you? Plenty of work for you when you get back. Parsons is off sick and Mrs. Willis, who came in your place, had to go home yesterday-her mother is ill."

  Oh, well, perhaps hard work would answer her problem-there'd be no time to think. She looked back as they reached the end of the drive. The Rolls was just leaving the house. Knott gave her a quick glance. "Sorry to be coming back?"

  "Oh, no. I've enjoyed being here, but I missed you all, Mr. Knott."

  He gave a satisfied grunt, echoed in various ways by the others when they reached Lady Wesley's house. Her room was ready for her, said Mrs. Legge, and a nice hot dinner and, in the meantime, there was tea in the pot.

  After dinner it was work; it was hoped that Parsons would be back within the next few days, but until then Sarah would be required to do the work of two, and although everyone was willing to give what help they could, it was no good expecting Mr. Cork to make beds or Mrs. Legge to polish brass doorknobs. Well, thought Sarah, I wanted hard work and now I've got it. Just for a moment she allowed herself to wallow in self pity. "I don't suppose he ever thinks of me, even with dislike," she moaned at Charles, who yawned and turned his back.

  She was wrong-the Professor was thinking of her, sitting in his mother's drawing-room, and although he had said nothing at all that lady remarked casually, "I wonder how little Sarah is getting on? I cannot think why she must work as a housemaid. Surely, you could have helped her to a more suitable job, Radolf?"

  "Of course I could. She's an obstinate girl with a low opinion of me, and I can assure you that I have tried to discover a means whereby she gets more suitable employment without discovering that I am the source. If she knew that, she would refuse immediately." He added bitterly, "At least I know where she is."

  "Yes, dear," said his mother placidly. "What kind of job had you in mind?"

  "I have no idea, Mother. The obstinate little fool, dusting and making beds and opening doors…"

  He sounded savage, and his parent judged it prudent to say nothing to this outburst. He was very like his father, she reflected lovingly, with the same fierce temper, allowed only to surface fairly infrequently when their feelings got too much for their iron control. Presently she said soothingly, "Can you stay for a day or two, Radolf, or must you go back to London? Your father is hoping that you would go sailing with him."

  He was his usual calm self again. "I can spare a couple of days. Is the boat down at Sneek?"

  "Yes, dear. He will be pleased. Shall I ask a few friends in while you are at home? The van Dongens are back from France…"

  He had gone to stand by the window. "Oh, yes? They've been on holiday?"

  "Yes, dear. And Lisa-the eldest girl-you remember her, so pretty and witty, has returnd with them. She has that splendid job-something at an embassy, I think. Highly thought of and much sought after."

  He glanced at her
over his shoulder. "Lisa? As hard as nails and talks too much!"

  A remark which pleased his mother enormously-as soon as he had gone she had a long and satisfying conversation on the telephone with Lady Wesley.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  PARSONS didn't come back as soon as Mrs. Legge had hoped. Sarah had to forgo her day off, something she did with outward cheerfulness since there was no point in complaining; but when Parsons returned halfway through the following week, Mrs. Legge sent for Sarah.

  "You've been a good girl, not complaining at all at the extra work and no day off. You may have Sunday and Monday free and, since Knott is going to go up to town on Monday morning early and come back in the evening, Mr. Cork and I think that you should go with him for a treat. He'll put you down wherever you want, and arrange to pick you up in the early evening." And, when Sarah opened her mouth, she said, "No, you have no need to thank me, it is your just due. You can enjoy a nice day shopping or visiting friends."

  Sarah said meekly, "Yes, Mrs. Legge, and thank you and Mr. Cork, it is very kind of you," for although she had no wish to go to London, it was obvious to her that she was being rewarded, and to refuse would have hurt their feelings. And, upon reflection, a day in town would be nice-she had her pay-packet almost untouched and there were things she needed.

  She spent Sunday tidying her room, sitting in the yard with Charles and going for a long, rambling walk in the afternoon. There was a cottage outside the village where teas were to be got; she had hers there, bought two pasties from the obliging owner and had her supper in her room with Charles for company. Since Knott was leaving in the morning, she went to bed betimes.

  She wore the rose-printed dress and the new shoes and even Mrs. Legge, who praised seldom, admitted that she looked quite the lady.

  "Well, she is, isn't she?" observed Parsons forthrightly, watching from the kitchen window as Sarah got into the car beside Knott. "And not all the caps and aprons in the world can make her anything else." When Mrs. Legge grudgingly agreed, she said, "I'll go over and make sure that Charles of hers is all right. Dotes on the beast, she does. Seems she hadn't got anything or anyone else to dote on, more's the pity."

  It was a splendid morning and London, when they reached it an hour later, looked inviting. Knott set her down at Piccadilly Circus, arranged to pick her up at six o'clock outside the tube station there and drove off. Sarah stood for a minute deciding what to do first. It was still early-perhaps it would be sensible to make her small purchases first, and then be free to windowshop or walk in one of the parks. Half an hour later, her shopping done, she walked slowly up Regent Street. Half an hour in Liberty's would be pleasant before she found a small cafe for coffee. The half-hour stretched into an hour or more; she came out into Regent Street at length and stood on the kerb, ready to nip across the street when there was a gap in the traffic.

  There was a smartly dressed woman hoping to do the same thing, standing beside her. She looked sideways at Sarah and grinned. "Give me New York any time," she observed. "What wouldn't I give for wings…"

  She paused as a Rolls-Royce came to a smooth stop at the kerb's edge. The door was opened and the Professor said, "Get in, Sarah."

  Sarah swallowed back her heart. "I don't want-' she began.

  Wasted breath. "Get in," said the Professor again, this time with a note in his voice which she did not care to ignore; besides, the girl from New York chimed in, "Get in, Sarah, do! You must be nuts…' She gave Sarah a little push and, after a quick look at the Professor's unsmiling face, Sarah got in.

  But she didn't give up easily, "I don't want-' she began once more and was halted by his, "Later, later, we can't argue in the middle of Regent Street." So she subsided, mulling over all the things she intended to say to him when she had the chance. When would that be? she wondered. The traffic was mostly one way, and he turned into Haymarket, back into lower Regent Street and then into St James's Street, passed Berkeley Square and on towards Cavendish Square, but he turned off into one of the narrow streets on either side and stopped halfway down a short quiet street lined with Georgian town houses.

  "Where is this?" asked Sarah in a rather high voice.

  The Professor got out, walked round the car to open her door and said, "I live here." He smiled down at her and her heart rocked. "I hope you will give me the pleasure of lunching with me."

  She got out of the car and stared up at him. "No, oh, no, I don't think so, thank you all the same. There is no need. I was only going to cross the road, you know," she added wildly, "but you stopped."

  His voice was kind. "We are so often at odds, aren't we? Perhaps we could forget our personal feelings just for an hour or two and have lunch together." He smiled again. "It was my clinic this morning, I thought it would never end. I should like to talk about something other than cerebral catastrophes and diabetes. You shall sit at my table, Sarah, and let me ramble on and you, being you, will give the right answers at the right moment so that I shall be soothed into good humour once more and face my afternoon patients with sympathy and patience."

  She listened to this speech in some astonishment. "Is that why you stopped?" she asked.

  He uttered the lie blandly. "Of course, why else?" He eyed her narrowly. "I suppose in my present mood anyone would have done."

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that in that case he could hunt around for someone else, but she was a kind girl-moreover, she loved him. She said rather primly, "Very well, I will have lunch with you, Professor, but I still have some shopping to do," which was a fib.

  "I shall be delighted to drive you back to wherever you want to go," he assured her gravely. "Shall we go indoors?"

  Brindle opened the door; he had been standing discreetly in the hall watching them with great interest through the side window. Here was a little tit-bit of news for Mrs. Brindle presently, he reflected, as he closed the door, took his master's briefcase and Sarah's plastic shopping bag and opened the drawing-room door.

  "This is Brindle," said the Professor. "He and his wife look after me very well. Brindle, this is Miss Fletcher, who will be lunching with me. Would you ask Mrs. Brindle to show her where she can tidy herself?"

  Sarah was led away by a tall, bony woman with a friendly face, to be shown into a cloakroom beside the gracefully curved staircase. It had everything needful for the refurbishing of one's person, but before she started to comb her hair into perfect smoothness she stood peering at her face in the long looking-glass. After a moment she sighed and started on her hair. There was no way in which her unassuming features could be transformed into beauty; besides, she reminded herself soberly, she was twenty-eight.

  She could hear a dog barking as she went back into the hall, and a door opened and Trotter came prancing to meet her. She stooped to hug her and the Professor followed the dog in. "Come and have a drink," he invited, and held the door wide open. The room was large, with windows at both ends and a wide fireplace facing the door, flanked by two sofas with a low table between. There were easy-chairs, too, upholstered in tapestry, and the tall windows were elaborately draped in claret-coloured satin. The floor was beeswaxed and was covered almost entirely by a Persian carpet, whose faded colours echoed the shade of the curtains. There were flowers, too, great bowls of roses and sweet-smelling stocks. It would be a lovely room at night, reflected Sarah, sitting down at one end of a sofa. There were lamps all over the place, shaded in a soft mushroom-pink. A room to be happy in, she decided. The Professor might prefer his home at Minster Lovell, but he must surely be content with his London home too.

  "Sherry?" he asked, and handed her a glass before sitting down opposite her, but a little to one side so that he could watch her face from his armchair.

  It amused him to see her obviously struggling to find something to say, and when after a few moments she ventured, "It's quiet here, not like London at all," he smiled gently and began to talk easily so that presently she lost her shyness and, by the time they crossed the hall to the dining-ro
om, they were engrossed in a lively discussion about pruning roses, a subject whichh led to a variety of other topics while they ate their iced melon, jellied chicken with a green salad and finally strawberries and fromage blanc. They had drunk a white burgundy with their meal and Sarah, so much put at her ease that she quite forgot her circumstances, said, "Oh, Puligny-Montrachet-how very nice…"

  The Professor sat back in his chair, his eyes gleaming. "You know something about wines, Sarah?"

  She blushed finely at that. "No, oh, no, only my father-years ago-used to tell me about them, and-and I just happened to remember this one." She added very ingenuously, "Was I rude?"

  He let out a crack of laughter. "My dear Sarah, of course not. I suspect that you are hiding your light under a bushel, though. Tell me, do you not find it difficult at times at Lady Wesley's?"

  "Difficult? You mean the work? It's only housework, you know, and we each have our own jobs to do."

  "I meant your-er-colleagues in the kitchen."

  "They're splendid," she declared warmly. "Kind and generous, and if I do something wrong they put me right without scolding. They're friends."

  "You have no wish to change your job?" He spoke casually and, her tongue nicely loosened, she answered readily, although she didn't look at him.

  "I have a home, somewhere where Charles can live too, and work to keep me busy. I can save, too, and I'm not lonely." She ended on a defiant note but he didn't dispute the last point, even though he didn't believe her.

  "You would not wish to marry?" His voice was quiet, inviting her confidence.

  She looked at him with eyes as clear as a child's. "Of course I'd like to marry. I'm twenty eight, you know that, Professor, and I have no looks to speak of. I don't meet many people and I have no-no background. It seems to me that it is unlikely that I shall marry, don't you agree? It's no good crying for the moon."