The Most Marvelous Summer

by Betty Neels

  That was that as far as she was concerned. She went out of the room once the old gentleman was settled by the phone and went upstairs to her room and hung out of the window, looking at the late spring evening. He could at least have said how are you, or even hello. She went downstairs again and out of a side-door into the garden and stayed there until Slocombe opened the french window in the drawing-room anti reminded her that the drinks had been poured.

  Mr Scott-Thurlow was chatty. `What a blessing the telephone can be,' he observed happily. `although I suppose it must be complicated between here and Spitsbergen. A clear line though. James is busy, but he expected to be. He won't be back for a week-there were some bad injuries and the hospital is full. He will be ringing again in a few days' time. I let my wife know, of course-he sent a number of messages.'

  None for me, thought Matilda peevishly. Out loud she said, `I expect it's difficult telephoning all that way. I expect Miss Symes is anxious, but I dare say there's a way in which she can phone him.' To make it sound more casual she added, `There's a time difference, isn't there?"

  'Yes. I don't imagine Rhoda will telephone him; I believe that she leads a very busy life.' His voice was dry.

  `I should think she would-she is so beautiful, and attractive too.' She spoke sincerely; she didn't like Rhoda but that was no reason to be spiteful about her, especially to this nice old man who would shortly be her grandfather-in-law.

  The days passed pleasantly; chess, strolls in the garden, listening to Mr Scott-Thurlow talking about every subject under the sun. Matilda found that there wasn't a dull moment. They went each day to see Mrs Scott-Thurlow, although Matilda only stayed in the room for a few minutes, tactfully absenting herself for an hour or so. She got to know the grounds of the hospital rather well and she would stroll up and down thinking about James.

  She would have liked to know so much more about him but his grandfather rarely spoke of his private life and she couldn't ask. He didn't talk about Rhoda either but Matilda was after all a stranger, filling a gap until his wife returned home. That wouldn't be too long, she was told, as it was now only a question of finding a suitable nurse to stay with her for a week or so until she felt quite able to be independent.

  Matilda went home at the weekend, glad to see everyone again and tell them about her job.

  `Sounds cushy tome,' said Esme. `How lone will you be there?"

  'Not long, another week or two at the most. `It will be nice to have you at home again. Tilly,' said her mother.

  `Yes, Mother, but I shall find another job as soon as possible. I can ask for a reference...'

  She was welcomed back warmly. `I missed you, Matilda,' said Mr Scott-Thurlow. 'The house seemed very quiet. We seldom have visitors, you know.'

  One came the very next day-Rhoda Symes!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  RHODA drove up in a Porsche just as they were getting ready to visit Mrs Scott-Thurlow. It was a bright red car and she wore a scarlet suede jacket over a black dress, not suitable for the country but very eye-catching. She got out ol' the car slowly and came towards them as they stood poised to get into the Daimler.

  `Hello,' she called, `I've been at Brooke House for the weekend and it seemed a good idea to come and see you on my way back to town.' Shr kissed Mr Scott-Thurlow's cheek. `I've had a marvellous time-a pity James couldn't have been with me.' She looked at Matilda then. `Haven't I seen you before? Of course, at that boring picture gallery with Roseanne Fox, and aren't you the girl who cooked the dinner? James told me about it-what a joke.' She turned back to the old gentleman. `And where is Mrs Scott-Thurlow? Is she-' she nodded towards Matilda `-the new cook?'

  Matilda admired Mr Scott-Thurlow's nice manners. `My wife has had an operation; Matilda is most kindly staying here to keep me company until she is back home. Did you not know?"

  'Oh, I believe James did say something about it-but I've got the most awful memory, especially about anything unpleasant.'

  `Have you heard from him?"

  'I told him not to bother to phone or write, he'll only be away for a week or so. Why he has to go to these awful God-forsaken places... ! He can take his pick of all the private patients he wants in town.' She looked at the car. `Are you going somewhere? Am I keeping you?"

  'We're going to see my wife. Perhaps you would like to come along too?"

  'Love to. Is she in that nice place outside Bath? A friend of mine went there to have something or other done; wildly expensive too.' She gave Mr Scott-Thurlow a charming smile. `You tootle along, I'll follow.'

  Matilda drove silently, afraid that if she spoke she might say something she would regret afterwards. She was on fire with rage and a strong wish to tear Rhoda's hair out by the roots and then take a pair of sharp scissors to that red jacket. She kept these reprehensible thoughts to herself with difficulty and was relieved when they arrived at the hospital. Mr Scott-Thurlow hadn't spoken either, only as they got out of the car he gave her an understanding smile.

  The visit wasn't a success. Rhoda was charming but Matilda saw Mrs Scott-Thurlow bristle with anger when she was referred to as a poor old thing. Old she might be, but poor she certainly was not, and it was doubtful if anyone had ever dared to call her that before. She couldn't be faulted in her manner towards Rhoda; she listened to Rhoda's high and very clear voice, recounting the fun she had had oveithe weekend, and her plans for future entertainment. `When James gets back I'll see that he gets out and about,' she declared. `There are several good parties and it's months since we went to the theatre together.'

  Matilda, after a decent interval, said that she would take her usual stroll in the grounds and, mindful of the old people's wish to be alone for a time, invited Rhoda to go with her.

  `Whatever for? Gardens bore me unless they're spectacular-besides, whatever should we talk about?' She gave a little rippling laugh. `Cooking?'

  Matilda kept her pretty face smiling although her eyes darted green fire. `About half an hour?' she asked, and, receiving a nod from Mr Scott-Thurlow, wandered off. Trying to walk off her temper she reflected that if Rhoda was staying for lunch she herself would have a bad headache. `What can he see in the girl?' she asked the hospital cat, sitting in a sunny corner. `But perhaps she never talks like that when he's with her.'

  They drove back presently and Rhoda, after the briefest of goodbyes and declining coffee or lunch, shot away in the Porsche.

  Mr Scott-Thurlow led the way into the house as the car disappeared into the lane and there was no mistaking his air of relief although he said nothing, merely asking her to see if Slocombe would bring them some coffee. `I know it's almost time for lunch, but a cup would be nice. Have one with me, Matilda.'

  So she sat with him, drinking first coffee and then a glass of sherry and then going in to lunch, all the while chatting about nothing in particular and never a word about Rhoda, sensing that he was upset.

  The days went by, pleasantly enough. Mrs Scott-Thurlow was to return home in a week's time, accompanied by a nurse, a placid little woman who didn't fuss. She was already at the hospital and her patient liked her. She joined Matilda on her morning strolls in the grounds and they got on well together.

  `I shall go home as soon as you get back with Mrs Scott-Thurlow,' said Matilda. `I came just to keep Mr Scott-Thurlow company. I've enjoyed every minute of it too; they have been so kind and really I've had nothing to do.'

  `Well, there will be precious little work for me,' Nurse Watkins said. `A couple of weeks, perhaps less, and I'll be off again.'

  `Oh, don't you work at the hospital all the time?'

  `No. I work for an agency but I take Mr Scott-Thurlow's-that's the grandson's-patients. I wouldn't want to work for anyone else; he's marvellous. I've been with him for years now. He's in Spitsbergen, operating on the bone injuries from that mine disaster, but, just fancy, he found time to telephone the agency asking for me to come and look after his granny. He's a wonderful man. Have you met him?'

  `Well, yes, but I don't know him w
ell...'

  `He's engaged, you know. To a hoity-toity piece-well, I shouldn't have said that, I dare say she's all right, just not my sort. I don't think she's his sort either, but that's neither here nor there.'

  It was the following morning that Mrs Scott-Thurlow, after greeting her husband, told him to take Nurse Watkins for a walk round the grounds. `I want to talk to Matilda-all we ever say to each other is good morning and goodbye and she will be leaving us soon.'

  As the door closed behind the other two she said, `Come and sit down here beside me, my dear. I have to thank you for being such good company for Charles; it has been the greatest help to him during this tiresome time. I told my grandson that when he telephoned me yesterday. It was a splendid idea to ask you in the first place. He tells me that you were actually going to a job when he asked that you should come to us, and reminded me to allow you to leave just as soon as I am home again, so you must make your plans. Slocombe will drive you to your home.' She leaned over and patted Matilda's hands, lying idly in her lap. `We shall miss you and I hope that you will visit us from time to time. And now that is settled tell me something of your family and your life.'

  `There's not much to tell,' observed Matilda, and embarked on a description of life at Abner Magna while she seethed silently. James Scott-Thurlow didn't deserve to be loved-he was a nasty cold-blooded creature who, as soon as he had got what he wanted from someone, ignored them; got rid of them just as he was getting rid of her. He deserved Rhoda-in fact the girl was too good for him!

  She was finishing a light-hearted account of bingo in the village hall when the others came back, and she said goodbye to Mrs Scott-Thurlow and tactfully went out to the car with Nurse Watkins.

  `A very nice girl,' declared the old lady to her husband when they were alone, `and such a charming voice and manner. I wonder what is worrying her... ?"

  'Worrying her? What should be? She seems content enough.'

  `Yes, dear, I am sure that she's as happy as possible with you. All the same I must find out.' She added casually, `I suppose she has met James?"

  'Of course-he fixed her up with us, didn't he? Besides, I remember her saying that she had met him at some exhibition or other. Anyway, he drove her down, didn't he? So of course they've met even if that was for the first time. You can't count that exhibition-I dare say they were introduced and didn't speak. Why do you ask?'

  `No reason, my dear,' said his wife airily. She bade him goodbye and, when she was alone, sat in deep thought, frowning a little.

  The day came when they were to fetch Mrs Scott-Thurlow back home. The Slocombes had polished and cleaned and, with Matilda helping out, put flowers in every room, and a festive lunch had been arranged. She got into the car and drove it for the last time to the hospital. She was packed and ready to leave that very afternoon; Slocombe was to drive her home, and although she didn't want to go in the least she could see that it would be much easier for Nurse Watkins if she wasn't there. `Too many cooks spoil the broth,' said Matilda, which wasn't quite what she meant but near enough.

  They were met in the hall by the matron, looking apologetic.

  `There is a slight hitch,' she began. `Nurse Watkins had severe toothache during the night and she is even now at the dentist. I phoned just a few minutes ago and he tells me that he has taken the tooth out but recommends that she should have a day's quiet before resuming heiwork. Shall we keep Mrs Scott-Thurlow until tomorrow, when I'm sure that Nurse Watkins will be well enough to accompany her home, or would you be able to manage for a day?'

  Mr Scott-Thurlow didn't hesitate. `Miss Flinch here will look after my wife until Nurse Watkins can join us-we cannot disappoint her after our plans have been made.'

  Matilda opened her mouth and then shut it again-there was no point in making an awkward situation more awkward-and when he turned to her and said, `You don't mind, do you, Matilda?' she shook her head meekly and murmured that of course it didn't matter at all.

  So they drove back againn with Mrs Scott-Thurlow sitting in the back with her husband, so delighted to be going home again that she was on the verge of tears.

  Everyone in the house came to welcome her home. She was led tenderly into the sittingroom, sat in a suitable chair, offered coffee and fussed over while the old gentleman watched with a delighted smile.

  There were enough people there, Matilda decided, so she got the luggage from the boot and carried it upstairs and unpacked it and put everything away in what she hoped were the proper cupboards and drawers, and then went down to the kitchen to tell Mrs Slocombe what she had done and offer to give a hand with lunch. Mrs Scott-Thurlow was quite comfortable, talking quietly with her happy husband-they would have a lot to say to each other before they sat down to the splendid meal which Mrs Slocombe had prepared, and after that, Matilda reflected, she would suggest a little nap until teatime.

  Mrs Slocombe was standing at the table beating eggs. `There you are, miss. Madam would like to go to her room to tidy herself and won't take no for an answer...'

  Matilda and the old lady went very slowly up the staircase, watched by her anxious husband from the hall. `You see,' said Mrs Scott-Thurlow triumphantly when they reached the gallery above, `I knew I could do it.'

  All the same, Matilda persuaded her to sit down for ten minutes while she combed the pretty white hair and powdered the haughty little nose. Mrs Scott-Thurlow was impatient. `We will go back now and sit for a few minutes, and we will have a glass of sherry, my dear.'

  So they trundled downstairs, which wasn't as easy as going up had been; all the same, they reached the drawing-room safely and Matilda sat her down in the chair again.

  `I would like a shawl,' said Mrs Scott-Thurlow, `just for my shoulders. Matilda, will you go to my room and get one? There should be several in the commode drawer, and when you come back we will all have that drink.'

  Matilda closed the double doors behind her and started across the hall. She had taken herself half a dozen steps when the house door was flung open and James Scott-Thurlow strode in. He saw her at once and she gave him a delighted smile and started towards him.

  `What in the name of the almighty are you doing here?' he demanded, his voice as cold as the Arctic regions he had just left. `I arranged for a nurse...'

  Not even a hello, thought Matilda crossly, and however did she allow herself to fall in love with such a rude, bad-tempered man?

  `Arrangements go wrong sometimes,' she told him waspishly. "`There's many a slip," you know. Nurse Watkins had to have a tooth out, and I'm to stay until she gets here tomorrow. Too bad, isn't it? But I'll go the very moment she has put a foot inside the door.'

  She turned her back on him and went up the staircase. She was in the gallery before she heard the drawing-room doors open and shut.

  She took as long as possible finding the shawl; she had no wish to go back to the drawingroom, but on the other hand if she didn't show herself he would think that she was feeling awkward about their meeting in the hall.

  `Bother him,' she told her reflection in Mrs Scott-Thurlow's dressing-table mirror. `I don't care if I never see him again.' Upon which heartening lie she took herself downstairs once more.

  He was sitting between his grandparents but he got up when she went in. 'Ah, Matilda, come and sit down and have a glass of sherry.' He pulled a small armchair forwards for her and went to the drinks tray. `It is most kind of you to stay until Nurse Watkins gets here. Have you had time to phone your mother?'

  No one could have been more polite or easymannered. She accepted the sherry, muttered that yes, thank you, she had already phoned home, and lapsed into silence. Presently Slocombe came to tell them that lunch was ready and she went into the dining-room with the old gentleman behind his wife and grandson.

  `Splendid to see James back, my dear. His grandmother is delighted. We must get him to tell us something of his work on Spitsbergen; I'm sure it will be most interesting. So delightful that he will be staying the night.'

  Matilda agreed
with him, her feelings mixed.

  The conversation at table was general; the old gentlemann asked about the weather in Spitsbergen, the local amenities and the scenery, but he asked no questions as to his grandson's work, nor did James mention it. Matilda, speaking when spoken to on such topics as the habitat of the wildlife there, the plants to be found and similar sidelights on life in the Arctic Circle, found it strange that no one was agog with questions about James's own life and work there. Now, if she had been at home, she reflected, just returned from some place or other, everyone would have wanted to know every-

  thing concerning her, never mind the flora and fauna. The three people at the table with heiwere all so polite and detached; she had no doubt that they were fond of each other but they seemed unable to show it. She wondered if they had been so detached when he was a small boy, thrust into their lives at a moment's notice, and if that was why he was so reserved. She made up her mind there and then to find out.