by Betty Neels
Mrs Gifford had paused on the wide landing, and they stood facing each other.
‘But she must have met Helena?’
Mrs Gifford didn’t smile. ‘Helena has never been here. It seems she dislikes this part of England...’
‘Oh, dear,’ said Louisa. ‘But I expect she’ll change her mind once they’re married. I do hope so. It’s such a glorious bit of England.’
She added after a moment, ‘But it’s beautiful around Salisbury, too. Thomas has a lovely house. I had to go there and help him a bit while Sir James was away.’
Mrs Gifford, who knew all about that, asked, ‘You live in Salisbury? Such a lovely cathedral...’
They wandered slowly along the landing, and now she stopped by one of the doors. ‘Here is your room, my dear. I hope you will be comfortable. If you want anything, do please ask me.’
They smiled at each other, liking each other, knowing that they could be friends.
‘I’m sure I shall be very comfortable,’ said Louisa. ‘It was very kind of you to invite me.’ She added, ‘And kind of Thomas to give me a lift.’
‘I dare say driving is less tiring than the train, besides you can stop when you want to.’
Louisa agreed, thinking that more frequent stops would have been welcome.
They went into the room together. Such a pretty room, too, the bed having a headboard of some pale wood which matched the dressing table under the window and the tallboy against one wall. Fragile little tables were on each side of the bed, bearing pink-shaded lamps, and the coverlet matched the pastel chintz curtains. The whole effect was of a casual mix of pastels, doubtless carefully thought out. There was a bathroom beyond, and a carpet in which one could sink one’s feet.
‘Oh,’ said Louise. ‘What a lovely place in which to fall asleep and wake up.’
Mrs Gifford smiled. ‘I’m glad you like it. The house is old, you know, and we take great care of it. When Thomas marries he will come and live here. Perhaps not for a few years, but he will want his children to come here and learn to love it, too.’
Helena, reflected Louisa, would have to change her ways considerably.
‘Come down when you’re ready,’ said Mrs Gifford, and she went away. Louisa set about repairing the ravages of their long drive. It would have to be the same outfit but it was a garment which adapted itself to almost any occasion. She did her face, her hair and then went downstairs.
As she reached the hall the doctor flung open a door.
‘In here, Louisa; come and have a drink before supper.’
The drawing room was large, with windows overlooking the garden, and a door opened onto a wide veranda. It was furnished very much as it had been for years, Louisa supposed, a charming mixture of Georgian cabinets, rent tables, and a magnificent long-case clock. Mingled in with these were some great armchairs, a couple of little crinoline chairs and on either side of the fireplace two sofas with a low table between them.
Bellow was there, sitting by his master’s chair, and on the other side of the hearth was a basket. There were two cats curled up together asleep in it. A rather grand room, but lived-in. Louisa sipped her sherry and felt at home. If she had the chance, she promised herself, she would take a look at the portraits on the walls, and there was a splendid painting over the fireplace; it looked like a Landseer...
They ate their supper presently in another very large room—rather sombre by reason of the dark oak furniture and the heavy red brocade curtains, but the table gleamed with silver and crystal, and there was a bowl of sweet-scented roses at its centre.
Louisa, hungry after their journey, polished off the watercress soup, the salmon, new potatoes and salad and found room for the apple tart and cream which followed them. And while they ate they talked—gossip from the village, their pleasant days at Shieldaig, the majestic scenery they had travelled through that day. But never a word about Helena.
They had their coffee in the drawing room, and Louisa excused herself with the plea of tiredness and took herself off to bed. Mother and son would have a great deal to talk about, she had no doubt. But she wasn’t as tired as all that. She pottered about, spent a long time in the bath, and then went to look out of the window. It was a clear night with a bright moon, and she could see the garden clearly. It would be nice to explore it, but there wouldn’t be time in the morning.
She was turning away when she saw Thomas with Bellow; he was strolling along, his hands in his pockets. He had his back to the house, but suddenly he stopped, turned round and looked up. She felt sure that he hadn’t seen her, but all the same she shot away from the window and tumbled into bed and, since she was tired now, she went to sleep at once, without bothering to wonder why she had felt suddenly shy at the idea of him seeing her.
* * *
Drinking her early-morning tea, she was aware of cheerful sounds in the house. Bellow barking, cheerful voices, quiet movements in the house, and presently a thundering thump on her door.
‘Come on down and take a walk round the garden,’ Thomas invited through the door. ‘Breakfast in half an hour, so be quick.’
She needed no second bidding. She showered and dressed without bothering much about her face or hair and nipped downstairs. The doctor was in the hall with the door wide open behind him and Bellow on the step. His ‘Good morning’ was affable. ‘Slept well?’ he wanted to know. ‘A pity that we can’t spend a few days here. I must try and get back before the summer is over...’
Some imp in Louisa’s head caused her to say, ‘And bring Helena with you.’
They had started to cross the lawn, and he came to a halt to look down at her. ‘Now, why should you say that?’ he wanted to know mildly.
Louisa went pink. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Well, yes, I do know, really. If—I mean, when you marry, this will be her home for some of the time, won’t it? She must surely want to see it.’ She said earnestly, remembering guiltily about Percy, ‘You really should bring her, you know.’
He said evenly, ‘When I need advice about my private life, Louisa, I will ask you for it.’
Looking up at him, she saw how cold his eyes were, belying the quietness of his voice. He didn’t like her; all this time he had hidden his dislike with an easygoing, pleasant manner and she had thought that they were friends...
She said coolly, ‘I’m not going to apologise. I thought that I could say what I thought to you—friends do, you know. But we aren’t friends, are we? If you would prefer it, you can take me to Kendal and I’ll get a train.’
‘I shall drive you back to your flat, Louisa.’ He began to walk on. ‘Would you like to see the rose garden? We are rather proud of it...’
So a veil was to be drawn over the awkward episode, thought Louisa, at least while she was a guest in his house. She admired the roses and presently they returned to the house and joined his mother for breakfast, and she was careful to make cheerful conversation. It was fortunate that she had seen the rose garden, for it made a good topic of conversation.
They left shortly after breakfast. Ada bade them a rather tearful goodbye and, still uncertain as to who Louisa really was, bade her to come again soon.
Mrs Gifford didn’t say that. ‘I’m quite sure we shall see each other again,’ she observed, ‘and I shall look forward to that.’
It seemed most unlikely, but Louisa murmured politely and, invited to kiss a nicely made-up cheek, did so and then wandered away so that mother and son could say their goodbyes.
Mrs Gifford lifted her face for her son’s kiss. ‘You’ve quarrelled,’ she said.
‘Hardly that, Mother.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘You like Louisa, don’t you?’
‘Yes, dear. Drive carefully, and do remember that the poor girl might like to stop from time to time.’ She put up a hand to touch his cheek. ‘Come again soon, Thomas.’
She wat
ched them drive away with Ada beside her.
‘She’ll make him a good wife,’ said Ada as they went back into the house.
‘Yes, Ada, she will, although neither of them know that at the moment.’ Ada, who was getting deaf, didn’t hear her.
* * *
They took the road to Kendal through lovely country, and once through the town joined the M6. Louisa had hoped that they might drive back along the lesser roads but a side glance at the doctor’s stern profile stopped her from saying anything. No doubt he felt that the quicker they got back, the sooner he would be rid of her.
Once on the motorway, the countryside more or less hidden, she had the leisure to think. Beyond asking her if she was comfortable, Thomas had little to say to her, and she told herself that she didn’t care, that although he didn’t deserve it she would do her best to prise Percy away from Helena. Of course, they could have cooled off considerably during the two weeks she had been away...
They stopped for coffee mid-morning at a service station, bustling with people. Thomas told her to find a table while he went for coffee, which was a lengthy business, and the coffee was awful. Telling her that he would be outside with Bellow and she could join them when she was ready, he left her. He was attentive to her wants and polite, but remote. Louisa made the best of it, got back into the car and thanked him for the coffee.
From time to time they made a remark about the scenery or the weather, like two people unable to get away from each other in a doctor’s waiting room, feeling they must be civil at all costs. It was a relief when he turned off the motorway, drove a mile or two into the country and stopped at a hotel in Worfield.
‘We will lunch here.’ He smiled a little. ‘After that coffee, I owe you a decent meal.’
It was a pleasant place and the food was good. They maintained a desultory talk over their meal, and Louisa was careful to mind her tongue. That her companion was treating her with an icy civility which was tiresome, to say the least of it, was something she supposed she deserved.
They drove on again without loss of time, and since it was a warm afternoon Louisa dozed off sometimes, lulled by the car’s comfort and Bellow’s gentle, whiskery muzzle pressed into the back of her neck. She was asleep when they left the motorway at last and began the cross-country drive to Salisbury. Indeed, they were on the A303, almost there, when she woke up. It was late afternoon now and she longed for a cup of tea; in half an hour or so she would be able to have it in her own little flat.
The doctor turned off the road into a narrow lane, and she sat up to ask, ‘Is this a short cut? I thought Salisbury was the turning further on.’
‘It is. We are stopping for tea. There’s a decent hotel at Telfont Evias.’
‘But isn’t it too late for tea?’
He didn’t reply but drew up at the hotel entrance—a charming old house with the church nearby. Bidding the patient Bellow to stay, they went inside to be welcomed by a friendly soul who wanted to know how she could help.
Ten minutes later Louisa was sitting on a terrace outside the dining room, a tray of tea on the table beside her. Thomas was taking Bellow for a walk and had told her to drink her tea and order more when he got back.
Sitting beside her presently, with a fed and watered Bellow back in the car, he told her that he had asked for a meal in half an hour or so. ‘We can go for a stroll through the village,’ he suggested. ‘Unless you would rather stay here?’
She was glad to stretch her legs; there was time to look round the church, cast an eye over the village, which was charming, and then take Bellow back to the car again before they sat down to a meal—chicken salad and jacket potatoes, and raspberries and cream for pudding. It was almost dusk by the time they got into the car once more, and fifteen minutes later they stopped before her door.
Louisa made haste to get out, making a dignified speech of thanks as she did so. It was wasted, though, as Thomas had got out too and was opening her door.
He took her key, opened the flat door, carried her case and bag upstairs, wished her goodnight, kissed her hard and drove away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LOUISA STOOD AND looked at the closed door. After a day spent in his austere company, his kiss had come as a surprise. There had been nothing austere about it, and she could only assume that his thoughts had been filled by Helena and he had forgotten who he was with.
She moved presently to unpack, open the windows and put the kettle on, automatically doing the small chores needed before she could go to bed. He hadn’t said that he would see her in the morning and she was thankful for that, because for some reason she felt shy at the thought of seeing him again.
She went to bed presently, her head full of muddled thoughts, but she was too tired to sort them out, and in the morning there was no time to ponder them.
Once back at her desk, there was enough work to keep her busy for several days. Besides that, even when she had a few minutes of leisure, Mrs Grant and Jilly wanted to know about her holiday. Even Sir James paused in the perusal of his appointment book to ask her if she had had a good time.
‘Did you come across Dr Gifford?’ he asked artlessly. ‘He took over for me—those dates I had booked earlier on.’
Louisa said that, yes, she had met him, and then asked how Sir James’s wife was.
‘Better, better, I’m glad to say. Where did you meet in Scotland?’
There was no help for it. Louisa gave Sir James a pared-down version of Thomas’s arrival at Shieldaig.
‘Oh, very nice,’ observed Sir James, and shot a look at her rather pale face. Louisa, who never looked downcast, had the air of someone who was unhappy and determined to hide it at all costs. A pity that Thomas was going to marry that Thornfold girl. Sir James had always considered Louisa to be a sensible girl, but perhaps a couple of days in Thomas’s company had caused her to lose her heart? On the other hand, they might have disliked each other’s company; there had never been any sign of friendliness when Thomas had been at the consulting rooms. He must remember to observe them when Thomas came again. A pity that wouldn’t be for several days.
* * *
The doctor, back in his own home, didn’t allow his thoughts to dwell on Louisa. In the morning he would be back at the surgery, and in the meantime there were phone calls to make, letters to read and, as though there wasn’t enough to keep his thoughts from his own problems, a request from one of his partners to give his opinion on a small boy with suspected meningitis. So it was long past midnight when he finally got to his bed. Shieldaig and Louisa seemed like a dream, he thought tiredly, before he slept.
He was at the surgery by half past eight, ready to take over from the locum and spend the morning seeing patients before going out on his round. A far-flung one too, to remote farms miles away from anywhere, and a travellers’ camp with several children with measles and an almost total lack of hygiene. He was glad to get home at last, to be met in the hall by Rosie.
‘Miss Thornfold’s in the drawing room, sir,’ she told him, po-faced. ‘I’ve got Lucky and Bellow with me in the kitchen.’
Thomas’s impassive features gave nothing away as to his feelings. He thanked Rosie and went into the drawing room. Helena was standing by the open door to the garden, a sight to gladden any man’s heart, in a silky, swirly dress the colour of a summer sky, only she didn’t gladden his.
‘Helena—did Rosie give you tea? Would you like a drink?’
‘So you’re back. You said you’d only be away a week—you’ve made me look a fool...’ Her pretty face was ugly with temper.
‘I phoned you, but I was told you weren’t available. I left a message. Did you not get it?’
She shrugged. ‘Why so much time in Scotland, of all places?’
‘Well, it was arranged rather hurriedly. Sir James’s wife was ill and he didn’t wish to leave he
r.’ He went to stand beside her. ‘You know, Helena, that my life is hardly my own. That is something you must get accustomed to if you marry me.’
Her eyes narrowed. Was he crying off? She had been so sure of him—a solid future, plenty of money, a pleasant lifestyle and, since he was so engrossed in his work, she would have all the freedom she wanted. She thought of Percy with a sudden pang. They had such fun together and they shared so many interests, but she wasn’t sure if he outweighed the advantages Thomas had to offer.
She smiled with sudden brilliance. ‘I don’t mean to be horrid, darling. I missed you dreadfully. We must make up for it. When you can manage a few hours free we will go somewhere quiet where we can talk. We might even discuss a date for the wedding.’
Thomas looked down at the beautiful face smiling up at him.
‘Helena, are you sure...?’ He got no further because the phone rang.
Within minutes he was in his car, on his way to an accident on the Salisbury road, leaving Helena, white with temper, to get into her own car and drive herself home.
Her temper cooled presently; perhaps it was as well that he had been interrupted in whatever he had intended to say. She couldn’t guess what it would have been, but she felt uneasy. Was he having second thoughts about their marriage? She had kept him dangling for a long time, and after the first few months hadn’t pretended to have any interest in his work.
Forewarned was forearmed, she reflected. She knew she was beautiful and she knew, too, that she could be charming—and she knew how to attract men... Once safely married to Thomas there would be no harm in a little flirting. After all, life was going to be boring if she was supposed to stay home waiting for him each evening. She took a quick peek in the side mirror and smiled at her reflection.
