by Betty Neels
She got through the rest of the day somehow, presenting a bright face to Pauline and Nanny, and presently retiring to bed to weep silently for the impossible dreams which would never return. At least she had derived a spurious happiness from them.
It was several days later when Pauline came dancing into the kitchen to tell her that her father wanted to speak to her. Florina lifted the receiver with the air of one expecting it to bite her and said a cautious “hello”.
Sir William’s firm voice was crisp. ‘Florina? Jolly will drive Mrs Jolly down tomorrow. They will arrive some time after lunch and he will return here after having tea with you. Mrs Jolly will take over from you for two days so that you may be completely free, so make any arrangements you like with Felix; he told me that he wouldn’t be returning until Saturday morning.’ He added, in a strangely expressionless voice, ‘I hope you will have a pleasant time together.’
He had rung off before she could do more than let out a gasp of surprise. Florina toyed with the idea of ringing him back and denying all wish to see Felix again, but that might make matters worse. She detected Wanda’s hand in the business and flounced off in search of Nanny.
That lady heard her out. ‘Dear, dear, here’s a pretty kettle of fish. Does Felix know about this?’
‘I don’t know, I shouldn’t think so—I’m sure Sir William wouldn’t phone him deliberately, just to tell him.’
‘Miss Fortesque might,’ suggested Nanny. ‘You must think of something, so that if he comes round here you are ready for him.’ Her stern face broke into a smile. ‘I have it! Isn’t Pauline to spend the next day or so with the Meggisons? You know them, don’t you? Could you not go with her? Heaven knows, they have more than enough room for you in that house of theirs.’
‘Yes, but what would I say? I can’t just invite myself.’
‘You can tell them the truth, the bare bones of it, at any rate. If that man comes, don’t say anything about it, but get hold of Mrs Meggison and go there with Pauline—she’s to get there early after breakfast, isn’t she? He is not likely to call as early as that. Don’t worry about him, I’ll deal with the gentleman.’
‘Won’t Jolly tell Sir William?’
‘Bless you, child, he’ll not breathe a word…’
‘I’m deceiving Sir William…’
‘He’s been deceiving himself for months,’ observed Nanny cryptically. ‘You can tell him when he comes at the weekend.’
Felix arrived later that day and Florina, bolstered by the knowledge that Nanny was on the landing, listening, admitted him into the hall, but no further.
‘So, Miss Fortesque kept her promise. She said she would persuade Sir William to give you a couple of days off. I’ll be round for you tomorrow about eleven o’clock, and don’t try any tricks. Everyone knows in the village that we are going to be married.’ He chuckled at her look of outrage. ‘Don’t worry, darling, I’ll be off and away at the end of the week, but I don’t like being snubbed by a plain-faced girl who can’t say boo to a goose. I’m just getting my own back.’ He made her a mock salute. ‘Be seeing you! I’ve planned a very interesting day for us both.’
She shut the door on him and then locked it. They had spoken in Dutch and Nanny, descending the stairs, had to have it all translated.
‘Conceited jackanapes!’ she declared. ‘Who does he think he is? Why, he’s nothing but a great lout under all that charm. Now, off you go and ring Mrs Meggison, and make sure you’ll be collected well before ten o’clock.’
‘Yes, but what about Pauline? Won’t she think it’s strange?’
‘Why should she? She knows that the Meggisons are old friends of yours, and she loves being with you.’
Mrs Meggison raised no objections, in fact, she was delighted. ‘I have to go to the dentist in the morning and I was wondering what to do about the children—now you will be here to keep an eye on them. It couldn’t be better, my dear. Can you stay until Saturday? We’ll send you both back directly after breakfast if Sir William doesn’t mind.’
‘He won’t mind at all,’ said Florina mendaciously, and put down the receiver with a great sigh of relief.
The Meggisons were genuinely pleased to see her. ‘You can’t think how glad I am that you came,’ declared Mrs Meggison. ‘There’s a new au pair girl coming next week—Danish—and the boys go back to school then, but with all four of them at home I’ve been run off my feet. Cook and Meg have enough to do; I can’t ask them to keep an eye on the children as well. They are all in the garden. Perhaps Pauline would like to trot out and be with them while I show you your rooms.’
It was a nice old house; a little shabby, but the furniture was old and cared for and the rooms held all the warmth of a happy family life. Florina, safely away from Felix’s unwanted attentions, enjoyed every minute of their two days, even though she had almost no time to herself. There was so much to do. The school holidays were almost over and they wanted to extract the last ounce of pleasure from them. They worked wonders for Pauline, too, tearing around, climbing trees, riding the elderly donkey the Meggisons kept in the orchard, eating out-of-doors in the untidy garden at the back of the house. The pair of them, much refreshed, climbed into Mr Meggison’s Land Rover with mixed feelings. Pauline sorry to be leaving her friends, but anxious to see Bobby and Mother and Child again. Florina was relieved that Felix would be gone, but panicky about meeting Sir William. She hadn’t told Pauline to say nothing about her stay with the Meggisons; she had been deceitful, but she didn’t intend that the little girl should be involved, too. For deceit it was, whichever way she looked at it. She got out of the Land Rover when they reached Wheel House, mentally braced against meeting Sir William.
Jolly opened the door, beaming a welcome, and invited Mr Meggison to make himself at home in the drawing-room while he sent for Sir William.
‘In the kitchen garden, sir, and if Pauline would go and fetch him…’
Pauline went, dancing away, shrieking with delight as Jolly went on smoothly, ‘Mrs Jolly is in the kitchen, Miss Florina—there’ll be coffee there and I have no doubt she will wish to have a chat with you. We return to London later this morning, but Sir William and Miss Fortesque are here for the weekend.’
Florina had her coffee and a comfortable chat with Mrs Jolly, and then went to her room to change her clothes; there had been no sign of Sir William, and Miss Fortesque had been driven into Salisbury by Jolly directly after breakfast to have her hair done. Mrs Jolly had cleared the kitchen, but since Jolly and she were driving back to London before lunch, Florina would prepare it.
It was almost two hours later, while she was mixing a salad with one eye on the clock, anxious not to be late with the meal, when Sir William strolled into the kitchen.
‘I believe we should have a talk,’ he observed, at his most placid.
‘Oh, yes, of course, Sir William, but lunch will be late…’
She had gone pale, but she didn’t avoid his eyes.
‘Never mind lunch! You had two days free so that you might spend them with Felix, instead of which, you chose to go to the Meggisons. Why?’
He had taken one of the Windsor chairs by the Aga, and Mother and Child had lost no time in clambering on to his knee. He stroked them with a large, gentle hand and waited for her to answer.
She said coldly, ‘I don’t know why you should suppose that I should want to spend my leisure with Felix. I didn’t ask him to come here in the first place and, as far as I know, I gave you no reason to suppose that I did.’
She sliced tomatoes briskly, ruining most of them because her hand wasn’t steady on the knife.
‘You didn’t make that clear, and I still wonder why. Am I not to know, Florina?’
She was making a hash of a cucumber. The salad wouldn’t be fit to eat.
‘No, Sir William. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I was going to the Meggisons, but I didn’t think it would matter…’
‘On the contrary, it matters very much, but that’s something
we need not go into for the moment. So I take it that you have no plans to marry?’
‘No.’
He set the cats back in their basket, got to his feet and wandered to the door. ‘Good, Pauline will be so pleased. You should be more careful in the future, Florina. I’ve been quite concerned about you.’
He went away, closing the door quietly behind him, leaving her to start on another salad, which would be fit to put on the table.
She was feeding the swans after lunch was finished, when Wanda came on to the patio. Sir William and Pauline had taken Bobby for a walk, and the house was quiet, Mrs Deakin had gone and Nanny was in her room resting.
‘I don’t know what game you’re playing, Cook,’ Wanda’s voice was soft and angry. ‘Whatever it is, it won’t do you any good. By next weekend we shall announce the date of the wedding, and don’t think it will be months ahead. Sir William will get a special licence and we can marry within days. You had better start looking for another job.’ She sniggered. ‘You are a fool! You and your silly daydreams, did you suppose that a man like Sir William would look at you twice? When he does look at you he is looking at his cook, my dear, not you. You had better go back to your Dutch family and find yourself a husband there—you haven’t much chance here, even with the village men.’ She turned away. ‘Don’t say that I haven’t warned you. You will not stay a day longer than is necessary once I have married Sir William.’
Florina stood where she was, staring down at the water below and the family of swans gobbling up the bread she was throwing to them still. It was something to do while she tried to collect her thoughts.
That Wanda was going to get rid of her was a certainty, and to go to Holland was surely a way out of a situation which was fast becoming unbearable. On the other hand, she would be running away and, as Nanny said, she wasn’t a girl to do that. Would there by any point in remaining in England? It wasn’t as if she would see Sir William again.
She threw the last crust and watched the swans demolish it. She couldn’t see them very clearly for the tears she was struggling to hold back.
‘Why are you crying?’ asked Sir William and, since she didn’t answer, threw an arm round her shoulders and stared down at the swans, too.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE urge to put her head on Sir William’s vast chest and tell him everything, even that she loved him, was something Florina only prevented herself from doing by the greatest effort. Instead, she sniffed, blew her small red nose and stayed obstinately silent.
Sir William sounded calmly friendly. ‘Your father—he lives close by, does he not? Would you like to spend a day or two with him? He could probably dispel the rumours Felix has spread.’
‘It’s kind of you to suggest it Sir William, but Father and I…he wanted a son, and he has no interest in the Dutch side of me. He tried to turn Mother into an Englishwoman, but he never succeeded—he didn’t succeed with me, either.’ Her voice was small and thin.
Sir William, who had heard that before from various sources in the village, said comfortably, ‘Well, what would you like to do, Florina? You haven’t been happy since we came back from Holland, have you? Did something happen then to upset you—and I don’t mean Felix?’ He added, ‘Would it help if you went back there for a week or two? Not to your aunt, for Felix goes there, does he not? I have some good friends in the Hague and Amsterdam; and in Friesland, too—a temporary job, perhaps?’
She was very conscious of his arm on her shoulders. Did he want to be rid of her, in order to placate Wanda and at the same time to spare her from the ignominy of getting the sack? She didn’t know, and did it really matter? she reflected.
‘I hope you will stay with us.’ He had answered her unspoken thoughts so promptly that for a moment she wondered if she had voiced them out loud. ‘At least until Pauline is settled in her new school. Will you think about it for a week or so?’
He gave her a comforting pat on the arm, remarking that he had to work in his study, and he left her there.
They exchanged barely a dozen words before he left for London, and as for Wanda, she behaved as though Florina wasn’t there; she ignored Nanny, too, and avoided Pauline, but hung on to Sir William’s arm on every possible occasion, the very picture of a compliant, adoring wife-to-be.
They wouldn’t be down on the following weekend, Sir William told his daughter; he had a consultation on Saturday in Suffolk and he might possibly need to spend the night there. ‘I’ll phone you each evening,’ he promised, ‘and you can tell me all about school.’
The week went quickly but now there was another routine, no longer the easy-going times of the holidays, but up early, school uniform to get into, breakfast and then the drive to Wilton, with Bobby on the back seat of the car. It was Florina who took him off for his walks now during the day, although when Pauline got home each afternoon the three of them went into the fields around the village while Pauline recited the happenings of her day to Florina. She was at least happy at school; she knew some of the girls there and the teachers were nice. She had homework to do, of course, and Florina sat at the kitchen table with her and helped when she was asked, while Nanny sat by the Aga, knitting. It was pleasant and peaceful, but Florina worried that it wasn’t the life Pauline should have. She needed a mother; her father loved her but he had his work and she suspected that without Wanda he would have more time to spend with his daughter. When Wanda was his wife, that didn’t mean that she was going to be Pauline’s mother; indeed, with herself and Nanny out of the way, the child would be packed off to boarding-school. Wanda wasn’t the kind of woman to share her husband, even with his own child.
The weekend came and since the weather was still fine, the Meggisons came over for tea on Saturday and played croquet on the velvet-smooth lawn behind the house, until Florina called them in for supper and presently drove them back home in the Mini, very squashed with Bobby insisting on coming, too.
When Florina went to say goodnight to Pauline, the child flung her arms round her neck. ‘Such a lovely day,’ she said sleepily. ‘If only Daddy could have been here too.’
‘That would have been nice,’ agreed Florina sedately, and her heart danced against her ribs at the thought. ‘But he said he’d be home here on Friday.’
It was, however, sooner than Friday when she saw him again.
It was on Tuesday morning, while they were driving along the country road to Wilton, that a car, driven much too fast, overtook them on a bend to crash head on into a Land Rover coming towards it.
Florina pulled into the ditch by the roadside; the two cars were a hundred yards ahead of her, askew across the road, the drivers already climbing out, shouting at each other. Pauline had clutched her arm when the cars had collided and then covered her ears from the thumps and bangs of the impact.
Florina opened her door a few inches. ‘I’ll go and see if they can move out of the way; if they can’t we’ll have to go round along the main road.’ She glanced at Bobby, barking his head off and shivering. ‘Don’t get out, darling, and don’t let Bobby out; he’s very frightened and he’ll run away.’
She nipped out of the car smartly and shut the door against the terrified dog, and ran up the road.
No one was hurt, only furiously angry. The two men were hurling abuse at each other until she took advantage of a pause in their vituperation.
‘Am I able to get past you?’ She had to shout to make them listen. ‘I’m taking Pauline to school…’ She had recognised one of the farm hands from the village, standing by the Land Rover. ‘Will you be able to move soon?’
‘Now, luv, that I can’t say—this lunatic was coming too fast—you must have seen him—we’ll have to get the police and take numbers and the rest. You’d best go round, and back over the bridge.’
There seemed nothing else to do, and Florina turned to go back to the Mini in time to see the door open and Pauline get out. Bobby scrambled out after her, and then, yelping madly, raced away through a gap in the hedge, into the
fields beyond. Within seconds Pauline had gone after him, climbing the five-barred gate in the hedge. She took no notice of Florina’s shout, just as Bobby took no notice of the child’s cries.
Florina reached the car, snatched up the dog’s lead, slammed the door shut and climbed the gate in her turn. The men were still arguing, she could hear them even at that distance, much too taken up with their own problems to bother about hers. Bobby was well away by now, running erratically across a further field, newly ploughed, and Pauline wasn’t too far behind him. Florina saved her breath and ran as she had never run before. She knew the country around her well; beyond the ploughed field was a small wood, its heavy undergrowth overgrown with rough scrub and brambles, and beyond that was the river winding its way into Wilton, not isolated but unproductive so that not even gypsies went near it.
Bobby had reached the wood, but Pauline was finding the ploughed field heavy-going. However, she didn’t stop when Florina shouted, so she had reached the wood before Florina was half-way there.
The wood was quiet when she reached it, save for the birds and the frenzied distant barking of Bobby. There was neither sight nor sound of Pauline; she was probably on the far side by now, making for the river.
The brambles made speed impossible if she weren’t to be scratched to pieces, but scratches were the least of her worries. The wood ran down steeply to the river, which, while not wide or deep, was swift-running and, at this time of the year, cluttered with weeds and reeds; Pauline might rush along without looking and fall into it. Bobby was still yelping and barking and she was sure that she heard Pauline’s voice; it spurred her on through the brambles, quite regardless of the thorns.
