An Ideal Wife

by Betty Neels

  ‘My goodness,’ said Louisa. ‘Are you made of solid rock?’

  He had set her tidily back on her feet, but he still had a hand on her arm.

  He said quietly, ‘No, Louisa, I am just as any other man—flesh and blood and human feelings.’ He took his hand away and went unhurriedly to the consulting room, and she stood, feeling bewildered, watching his broad back disappear through the door. The bewilderment gave place to something else, though. A great surge of feeling which took her breath.

  ‘How silly,’ whispered Louisa, ‘to fall in love with a man when he’s walked away without even looking back.’

  She went slowly out into the street and started to walk to the flat. Of course, now she came to think about it, she had loved him for a long time, only she hadn’t allowed herself to own up to it. Not that it would have made any difference.

  * * *

  The doctor, standing at the window, watched her go. Only when she was out of sight did he turn round.

  ‘I’m sorry, I missed that—you were saying...?’

  Sir James looked at him over his glasses. ‘Of course, it’s none of my business, Thomas, but you should get married, you know.’

  Thomas said, unsmiling, ‘Yes, I have come to that conclusion, too.’ He added, ‘But the waiting has been to some purpose...’

  Sir James, not quite sure what he meant, and being a wise man, changed the subject.

  * * *

  Sir James had no patients on the following morning and saw no reason why Louisa shouldn’t have an extra hour at lunchtime. He would be at the hospital until the early afternoon, and since the last patient that day had an appointment for five o’clock Louisa guessed that she would have to stay later than usual. Not that it mattered; the busier she was, the better, because then there wasn’t time to think about Thomas. She gobbled her sandwiches, drank a too hot cup of tea and went off to the shops she had decided to visit. A dress she could wear at any time, anywhere, and perhaps some new sandals—the useless kind with high heels and complicated straps.

  She found two dresses which were exactly what she wanted so she bought them both. One was straw-coloured washed silk, elegantly cut and expensive, and the other a cotton dress, very pale blue, with a vague pattern of tiny flowers. Satisfied with her purchases, she went to the shoe shop at the corner of the arcade and found just what she wanted there—straw-coloured sandals in soft leather, high-heeled and strappy. Resisting the temptation to buy a handbag which took her fancy, she left the shop and found Helena waiting for her.

  ‘Louisa, I saw you as I was passing, and it’s so long since we had a chat.’ She glanced at the plastic bags Louisa was carrying. ‘Shopping? Something nice? You looked very striking at the wedding—not at all your usual style, but eye-catching. Were you trying to get Percy back?’

  Louisa said coolly, ‘What makes you think that he ever went? But, no, I don’t want him.’ She smiled widely. ‘You can have him, Helena.’

  Helena went red. ‘What a ridiculous thing to say. You forget, I’m engaged to marry Thomas Gifford. And you have no right to talk like that about Percy; he is a most sensitive man. We have a great deal in common, he is an ideal companion, and we agree about so much...’

  ‘Now it is you who is forgetting Thomas.’

  Helena narrowed her eyes. ‘I intend to marry Thomas. I shall make him a good wife, help him in his career and run his home. I shall make the best of the frequent absences he makes. He’s been away recently on some consultation or other. If it hadn’t been for Percy’s kindness, I should have been lonely.’

  ‘What twaddle you do talk,’ said Louisa briskly. ‘Thomas already has a career—he certainly doesn’t need any help from you—and Rosie runs his home to perfection. And, now, I really must go. I said I’d be back by one-thirty.’

  Helena laid a hand on her arm. ‘Just a minute—you seem to know an awful lot about Thomas.’

  Louisa smiled into the beautiful, cross face. ‘You forget, he’s by way of being a partner to Sir James. I work for Sir James...’

  She glanced again at her watch. ‘I really must fly.’ She flung a goodbye over her shoulder as she went, wondering what Helena would say if she knew Thomas had been at Shieldaig. She had been tempted to tell her, but if Thomas hadn’t told her himself it was hardly for her to do so. Besides, she wanted to keep those few days by the loch a secret. She had been happy then, although she hadn’t known why, and they were all she had to remember Thomas by.

  She saw him again the next day and, beyond a brief greeting and an equally brief report on Lucky, he had nothing to say to her. In any case the front she presented as Miss Howarth, efficient and reserved receptionist, precluded any gesture of friendliness. Sir James called her in with some patients’ notes he wished to discuss with Thomas, and she took care not to look at him when she laid them on Sir James’s desk. But she hadn’t needed to take precautions against meeting him for he took no notice of her then, and, when he went away presently, he looked at her as though she was someone he had met and instantly forgotten.

  She went to see Felicity that evening and found her alone.

  ‘Darling, how nice. I’m so bored all by myself. Almost everyone I know is away on holiday and those who aren’t only want to play bridge, and one can get tired of bridge. Pour me a drink and tell me all the gossip.’

  Which really meant that Felicity did the gossiping, tearing her dear friends to shreds, recounting titbits of news, and then reporting with a wealth of detail a visit she had made to the dentist.

  Louisa listened and smiled and murmured because she knew that Felicity really was lonely, and presently she asked, ‘Is Percy away, too?’

  ‘He might just as well be. I hardly see him these days, and when he is here he does nothing but eulogise about Helena Thornfold. I think I might go away myself.’

  ‘Why not? I’ll keep an eye on this place, and Biddy can have her holiday at the same time.’

  ‘What a good idea, then I shan’t be inconvenienced at all. I’ll think where I want to go and let you know.’

  Louisa got up to go. ‘I’ll go and see Biddy on my way out. Tell me when you’ve arranged something.’

  In the kitchen Biddy plied her with strong tea and a slice of the cake she had just taken from the oven. Her sharp eyes peered into Louisa’s face.

  ‘Still looking peaky. You don’t get enough fun. You ought to be out every night with some young man, miss. That Mr Witherspoon who was so keen on you—we don’t see ’im no more, or ’ardly ever.’ She refilled Louisa’s cup. ‘And I’ll tell you something, but not a word to anyone—promise?’

  ‘I promise. Has someone at the pub been misbehaving themselves?’

  Biddy shook her head. ‘This is serious, Miss Louisa, so you listen careful. This Miss Thornfold your Mr Witherspoon’s so crazy about—well, ’im and ’er are going to marry.’

  ‘Biddy, what nonsense! She’s engaged to Dr Gifford; I saw her only yesterday.’

  ‘That’s as may be. This is gospel truth. Mrs Watts’s sister works for the Thornfolds, and she ’appened ter ’ear Miss Thornfold and Mr Witherspoon talking. Well, she was actually by the door and they’d left it open. Ever so dramatic they were, she said, talking about duty and the call of love and I don’t know what else. Anyway, they’re going off—secret, like—on Saturday afternoon, pretending they’re going off ter ’ave lunch with friends, but they’ve got a special licence and are going ter some church—funny name it was, too—Ebbes-something.’

  ‘Ebbesborne Wake,’ said Louise. ‘Biddy, do you suppose Mrs Watts has imagined all this?’

  ‘Lor’ bless you, no, miss. Why, she goes to chapel each Sunday. She told me because we’re friends and I’m telling you because you’ve always been good ter me and you ought to know about that Mr Witherspoon.’

  ‘Do you think anyone else knows, Biddy?�
��

  ‘Not a whisper. Miss, do you suppose it’ll turn out OK?’

  ‘I don’t know, Biddy.’ Louisa smiled at her companion. ‘But things often come right, don’t they? I must go; it’s quite late and we’ve a busy morning tomorrow.’

  She kissed the little woman, let herself out of the kitchen door and walked home. Once there she made yet another pot of tea and sat down to think. Something must be done before Thomas had his heart broken...

  CHAPTER NINE

  LOUISA SAT FOR a long time, a mug of cooling tea in her hand, wondering what was best to be done. She was aware that she intended to interfere again, but this time it was for the best of reasons. That Thomas was making the mistake of his life in marrying Helena she was quite sure, but if he loved her that surely was more important than anything else. The thing was to prevent Percy and Helena getting married on Saturday. Even if it meant only a delay, it would give Thomas time to talk to Helena. It was a pity Biddy didn’t know the time of the ceremony; a calculated guess would have to do. They intended to tell everyone that they were lunching with friends—that meant any time between twelve o’clock and two o’clock.

  ‘If I get to the church by midday...’ mused Louisa. She had no idea what she would say or do after that, but that wasn’t important. A pity that Thomas couldn’t be warned—it would be the sensible thing to do—but Biddy had made her promise not to tell anyone. There was the chance, thought Louisa hopefully, that he might get to hear of it. There were two days yet before Saturday; anything could happen.

  But nothing did. He came to the consulting rooms on the following afternoon, politely remote, looking unworried, went to the hospital with Sir James, came back and was closeted with him for the rest of the afternoon. And Louisa, taking letters in to be signed, heard him telling Sir James that he was taking Helena to the theatre at Chichester that evening.

  So he could have no inkling of Helena and Percy’s plans. Perhaps Helena would tell him that she was going to marry Percy; it seemed the sensible thing to do. Louisa couldn’t see the point of all the secrecy. Surely Helena wasn’t being deliberately unkind? Thinking about it, she decided that that was quite likely. But why? To pay him back for all the times he had been unable to take her out, all the times he had had to leave her at a party, or phone at the last minute to say that he had an urgent call?

  More than likely, decided Louisa, going home to cook her supper.

  There was a pile of ironing waiting to be done; she tidied away her meal, got out the ironing board and began on the basketful of washing. She was halfway through it, listening anxiously to the distant rumble of thunder, when the doorbell was rung. It was probably Mrs Watts wanting to borrow milk or tea or sugar—frequently the case—but whether it was loneliness or erratic housekeeping, Louisa had been unable to discover. She switched off the iron and went to open the door.

  The doctor stood outside, leaning against the wall.

  ‘I make a habit of this, don’t I?’ he wanted to know cheerfully.

  ‘You should be at Chichester,’ said Louisa. She spoke severely, but her heart raced with delight. ‘Why aren’t you?’

  And, since she couldn’t leave him outside, she added, ‘Come in, do.’

  ‘I’m always so sure of a welcome,’ murmured Thomas, and went past her into the sitting room. ‘I got called away shortly before we were leaving. Luckily Helena phoned Witherspoon, who most obligingly took my place.’

  Louisa opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, and shut it again.

  ‘I wondered if we might go somewhere and have a meal or a drink?’ He had gone to the window to look at the darkening sky.

  ‘I’ve had my supper,’ said Louisa sedately. ‘Thank you all the same.’

  ‘Then a drink?’ He sounded friendly but hardly eager.

  ‘Well, no, thank you. There’s going to be a storm, and I’d rather be here...’

  ‘Frightened?’ There was no mockery in his voice.

  ‘Yes. I can sit here and look at the wall and be as cowardly as I like.’

  ‘Well, you can sit here and look at me instead, or keep your eyes shut and your hands over your ears if you wish; I shan’t mind. Why not finish the ironing while I make coffee?’

  So she switched on the iron again, since he obviously intended to stay for a while, and if she had something to do it would be easier...

  He talked to her while he was in the kitchen, a gentle medley of the day’s happenings; Bellow, Lucky, Rosie cutting her finger on the bread knife...commonplace chat which was soothing and which made no mention of Helena.

  And don’t let him start on her, prayed Louisa silently, because I might let something slip. She still had no idea how things would turn out; she might be successful in stopping the marriage, but that was only the beginning. Hopefully, Helena might come to her senses—after all, she would be giving up a lot if she married Percy...

  ‘Why do you frown so fiercely at the ironing board?’ asked Thomas, coming in with the tray.

  She was saved from answering by a flash of lightning and a peal of thunder much too close for her peace of mind. She squeaked ‘Oh,’ and switched off the iron with a hand which shook a little. ‘Sorry, I told you I was a coward.’

  He said quietly, ‘Come and sit here, away from the window; the storm’s going over quite rapidly.’ He poured the coffee and handed her a cup. ‘I found the biscuit tin!’

  Another flash filled the room with vivid blue light. ‘Oh,’ said Louisa again, sitting rigid while the thunder banged and crashed overhead. ‘What a good thing you came here instead of driving straight back.’

  Of course, that was why he had come, knowing that there was a bad storm brewing and prudently taking shelter.

  Thomas, watching her tell-tale expression, smiled to himself.

  The storm stayed overhead for some time, fading away and then returning with renewed vigour. The doctor made a second pot of coffee and, without being asked, a plate of buttered toast spread with Marmite, aware that doing something normal like eating and drinking was soothing to the nerves. Of course, he would have preferred to gather Louisa into his arms—an agreeable alternative which required all his self-control to deny. He had the patience to wait.

  The storm rolled away at last, muttering in the distance, taking the lightning with it.

  ‘Time I went,’ said Thomas, gathering up the cups and plates. ‘Finish that bit of ironing while I tidy up.’

  He went to the window. ‘The moon’s coming up and the stars are out; it will be a quiet night.’

  He wandered off into the kitchen and she listened to him whistling as he washed up. It all seems so right, she reflected unhappily, us like this—comfortable with each other. And to think that I didn’t like him much.

  She was folding the last handkerchief when he came back into the room.

  ‘Thanks for the coffee,’ he said. ‘I’m going to Winchester tomorrow so I won’t see you until next week. I’ll be in on Tuesday morning.’

  ‘Will you be staying at Winchester?’ Supposing he didn’t come back to Salisbury until Tuesday? He wouldn’t know about Helena and Percy.

  ‘I wouldn’t imagine so.’ She could hear that he wasn’t going to say more than that and she had no chance to say more, even if she could have thought of something to say, for he wished her goodnight and went away.

  Louisa stared at the door for quite some time before it struck her that she was wasting time thinking about Thomas when she should be planning what she would do on Saturday.

  She and Mrs Grant and Jilly took it in turns to go to the consulting rooms each Saturday morning, just to make sure that everything had been locked up and shut off until Monday. It didn’t take long; the answering machine to check, the post to take in, make sure that the gas had been turned off—a routine which was largely unnecessary, but
to which they faithfully adhered.

  It was her turn to go in this Saturday. That didn’t matter as long as she got away in time to arrive at Ebbesborne Wake by about half past twelve. Percy and Helena weren’t likely to be there much before one o’clock, the normal lunch hour. Unless, of course, they had said that they were lunching with friends some way away. It was a risk she would have to take. Better be on the safe side and get there by noon....

  Friday seemed to go on for ever. She exchanged hopes for a pleasant weekend with her colleagues and hurried home. There would be no time to do the usual weekend shopping in the morning; she hurried to a grocery store, stocked up rapidly and went back to lay out everything she would need in the morning. And when she had done that she sat down and wondered if she was doing the right thing. But there was nothing else to do. Thomas wasn’t there even if she broke her word to Biddy; he must at least have the chance to try and win Helena back. Louisa, feeling as if she were entangled in a Gothic novel, went to bed.

  It was raining in the morning. Louisa ate a hurried breakfast and went along to the consulting rooms where she did the small chores expected of her. It was still only mid-morning when she was ready to leave, and she was getting into her mac when the door opened and Sir James came in.

  He looked pleased to see her. ‘Splendid, just the person I wanted to see. There are a couple of letters to send to Professor Lutvik. I’ll dictate them at once and you can type them and get them off.’

  Louisa, half in and half out of her mac, said urgently, ‘Sir, I’ve an appointment for twelve o’clock which I must keep...’

  ‘You’ll be done long before then, Miss Howarth. The letters are brief—ten minutes or so should be enough.’

  It was half an hour, because Sir James changed his mind when he had dictated the first letter and she had to start all over again. And the second one wasn’t short at all, and full of long words. When at length they were done, signed and stamped, she saw with horror that it was already half past eleven.