The Most Marvelous Summer

by Betty Neels

  He smiled a little. `Before breakfast-Twigg takes them during the day and I walk them again before I go to bed.'

  She drank her sherry too quickly. `I expect you want to go out...'

  `As soon as Rhoda arrives. You must stay a moment and meet her.' His voice held amusement and his eyes gleamed with it when she said,

  `Oh, yes, that will be delightful.'

  Rhoda came a few minutes later and Matilda, twiddling her empty glass in her hand, wished she hadn't tossed off her sherry quite so quickly.

  Rhoda looked lovely, but then she always did. Vivid green satin under an enormous velvet cloak and Italian shoes with gleaming buckles. She pecked Mr Scott-Thurlow's cheek and said, `Darling, you're actually ready. I'm so gladthe Mathersons' dinners are always such fun and one meets all the right people-prospective patients for you...' She laughed and Matilda watched the look of distaste hidden at once behind that bland mask.

  He said, 'Matilda has arrived, you see. Lucy is delighted and so am I to be able to leave the child in such capable hands.'

  Rhoda smiled across at Matilda. `Can you nurse as well as cook?' she wanted to know. `You really are a paragon.' She didn't hide her scorn.

  To which piece of rudeness Matilda could find no answer. It was Mr Scott-Thurlow who spoke. `Some day some lucky man will make her his wife.' He smiled across the room at Matilda as he said it and she smiled back, dully conscious that she felt suddenly shy, and Rhoda, watching them both, said quite sharply,

  `Well, we had better be going, darling. Come back to my place after the Mathersons' there are so many plans...'

  She nodded at Matilda as she went out of the room, but Mr Scott-Thurlow paused by her chair. `Breakfast is at eight o' clock,' he told her. `I hope you sleep well. Goodnight, Matilda.'

  She ate her solitary dinner presently under the kindly eye of Twigg. The food was delicious but she hardly noticed what she had on her plate. She was entirely occupied with the unsuitability of Rhoda as Mr Scott-Thurlow's wife. She would ruin him, or try to-turn him into a fashionable surgeon when really what he wanted to do was to use his skill upon anyone who needed it, never mind if they could pay or not. That he was a wealthy man was apparent to her now but she had the feeling that it was a matter of little importance to him. She wondered for the hundredth time why on earth he was going to marry Rhoda.

  She thanked Twigg for his attentions and went back upstairs to find that Lucy was soundly sleeping and, since she had nothing better to do, she had a leisurely bath and went to bed herself.

  She was up soon after six o'clock, roused by Lucy's small unhappy voice demanding a drink, to have her bed made more comfortable and someone to talk to. Matilda pottered to and fro making the child comfortable, and since it was still so early suggested that she should go on with The Secret Garden.

  `I'm thirsty,' declared Lucy, `I'd like a cup of tea.'

  Matilda quite fancied one herself. `All right, why not? I'll pop down to the kitchen and make us some. I'll have to boil a kettle so don't expect me back for about five minutes.'

  The house was quiet as she went downstairs, hoping that the dogs, who probably slept in the kitchen, wouldn't bark when they saw her. She went through the baize door at the back of the hall and crept into the kitchen. It was a delightful place with a well-scrubbed table and rows of polished pans on the walls and an old dresser with rows of plates. There was an Aga too but her eye fastened on an electric kettle.

  She filled it, switched it on, peered around for the dogs, who were nowhere to be seen, and went in search of a teapot and cups.

  She had made the tea, found milk and sugar and a tray and was on her way to the door when it was opened and the dogs came dashing in followed by Mr Scott-Thurlow in elderly trousers and a cotton sweater.

  If he was surprised he didn't show it. His `good morning' was polite and slightly questioning.

  'Lucy woke early, she wants a cup of tea.' Matilda was very conscious of her hair all over the place and her dressing-gown, flung on without due regard to her appearance. She looked at the dogs, grinning at her from either side of their master. `You've been out,' she said foolishly.

  `Our usual morning walk. Is there a cup of tea for me?' When she nodded he picked up the tray and, accompanied by the dogs, they went upstairs.

  Lucy was delighted. The dogs got on to the bed and settled down beside her and Mr Scott-Thurlow put the tray on a bedside table and sat on the bed too. `Slept well?' he wanted to know. `Stick out your tongue...'

  Matilda poured the tea and sat down primly in a chair by the window to drink hers. When she was asked she said that yes, she had slept very well and that no, Lucy hadn't wanted anything during the night.

  He finished his tea and got up to go. `Breakfast at eight o'clock sharp,' he reminded her. He wandered over to the door and stood there looking at her. `Get dressed first,' he said softly.

  She dressed with ferocious speed, muttering crossly to herself, and scraped her glorious hair back into a tight French pleat, under a false impression that it made her look severe, whereas it made her look like a little girl whose hair had been pinned up out of the way ready for her bath.

  When she went downstairs she went straight to the kitchen for Lucy's tray only to have it taken from her by a respectful Twigg. `I will see that Lucy has her breakfast, miss-Maisie, here,' he nodded towards a young girl making toast, `will come with me and stay with her until you have had your own breakfast. Mr Scott-Thurlow is in the dining-room already.'

  So she went to the dining-room to find him there at the table, reading the paper. He got up when she went in, seated her and invited her to help herself to whatever she wanted.

  `You don't find this too early?' he asked her politely.

  `Not at all. Only shouldn't I be with Lucy?'

  `No. I've been to see her again. Her temperature is down, which is a good sign, but I must warn you that as she improves she is likely to be peevish. I rely upon you to cope with that.'

  He maintained a steady flow of small talk until they had finished the meal; he was, she conceded, a very good host although she found his reserve chilling. He got up to go presently with a word of apology. `I seldom get home for lunch,' he told her, `but I should be back rather earlier than usual this afternoon. Remember that you should get out for an hour after lunch. Mrs Twigg will sit with Lucy.'

  He laid a hand lightly on her shoulder as he went past her chair. Long after he had gone she could feel the imprint of it there too.

  That evening, strolling in the garden after her solitary dinner, she reflected that she had enjoyed her day despite the fact that just as they were sitting down to dinner Mr Scott-Thurlow had been called to the hospital, and now, two hours later, there was still no sign of him. Twigg had told her that this was often the case and there was no knowing when he would return, `So just you enjoy your dinner, Miss Matilda, and take a turn in the garden; it's a splendid evening.'

  She had been kept busy during the day with Lucy, who, just as Mr Scott-Thurlow had predicted, was inclined to be peevish, but she had devised games and read until her throat was dry and the child had settled down for a nap after lunch so that she was able to go for a quick walk in the quiet streets near the house while Mrs Twigg sat and knitted in Lucy's room. When she had returned there was just time to freshen up Lucy before her godfather, true to his promise, came home and they had tea together. He had looked tired, but he had set himself to amuse the child and the little meal was a happy one.

  When it was quite dark she went indoors, made sure that Lucy was asleep and took herself off to bed. She was pleasantly tired but she didn't go to sleep-she lay awake listening for Mr Scott-Thurlow's return. It was one o'clock in the morning before she heard his quiet tread on the landing and the gentle closing of his door.

  The days slipped easily into each other and by the end of a week Lucy was very nearly her old self again. She had the run of the house and she and Matilda spent a good deal of time playing duets on the piano in a small sitting-room at t
he back of the house. The child was talented and Matilda played with verve and a great many wrong notes and they enjoyed themselves hugely. They saw very little of Mr Scott-Thurlow for now that Lucy was out of her bed she and Matilda breakfasted after he had left the house. He himself had suggested it in a manner which led her to assume that he didn't wish for their company at that meal, and, since he came rarely to lunch at his own house and when he did dine at home his cool courtesy towards her successfully put a stop to any remarks she might make other than mundane ones about the weather, she rapidly reached the conclusion that he disliked her. If that was so, however, why had he asked her to come and look after Lucy?

  Even that melancholy thought couldn't stop her loving him.

  The days were warm now and she took Lucy out into the garden where they played clock golf, much hindered by the dogs. Nothing more had been said about their visit to Stoke Fleming and Matilda began to hope that he had decided not to send them away. Perhaps he would take a holiday himself and go somewhere with Lucy and Rhoda, for she herself wouldn't be needed

  For much longer-an opinion not shared by Rhoda, who arrived one afternoon shortly after Matilda had tucked Lucy up for her rest and then had gone downstairs to sit in the garden.

  Her greeting was perfunctory. `How can you bear to sit in the sun?' she asked, and arranged herself carefully in the shade of some artfully planted silver birch trees. `Where's that child? Isn't she well yet? It's high time she was sent down to Devon; I absolutely refuse to have her tagging around any longer. James has his nose buried in that wretched hospital all day and half the night and I'm sick of making excuses for him. I'll talk to him and get him to send you both away, then perhaps he will be able to lead a more civilised life again. You can stay down there until she's due back at school...'

  Matilda's eyes opened wide. `Oh, that won't be possible; I came to look after Lucy until she was well again, and she is now, so I am free to go home.' She smiled sweetly. `Why can she not go on holiday with you? I understood that she had been invited to spend the whole of her summer holidays with Mr Scott-Thurlow.'

  `Who cares what you understood?' asked Rhonda rudely. `He pays you so you'll do what he wants.'

  `Perhaps he doesn't want me to go to Stoke Fleming...' Matilda's voice was pure syrup.

  Rhoda laughed. `We'll see about that...'

  `What will you see about, Rhoda?' asked Mr Scott-Thurlow from the french window.

  `Darling, how you startled me. We were discussing plans. Matilda is looking forward to going down to the cottage with Lucy-'

  `No, I'm not,' said Matilda. She spoke pleasantly but her green eyes blazed.

  Mr Scott-Thurlow lounged over to where she was sitting so that she felt obliged to look up at him looming over her.

  `Now that is a pity,' he said gently, `for I have arranged for you to go down to Devon in two days' time.'

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MR SCOTT-THURLOW had an `I told you so' look on his handsome features. `I did mention that you would be going to Stoke Fleming as soon as Lucy was well enough and since you raised no objection I went ahead with my plans.'

  Rhoda gave a brittle laugh. `There, did I not say so? How lucky you are getting a holiday for free, Matilda. Darling, I'll cancel my engagements-where shall we go? Will you get tickets? Do be sure that the hotel is a good one-will it be too hot in the Bahamas?'

  He had been staring at Matilda and she had been unable to look away for his gaze held hers but now he turned to Rhoda. 'I'm committed to a seminar in Leiden and a couple of lectures in Oslo and I must be back as soon as possible I have a backlog of urgent cases...'

  A speech Matilda heard with satisfaction and Rhoda with ill-concealed temper.

  `What am I supposed to do?' she wanted to know. `Don't think I'm trailing round Europe while you make dreary speeches about bones. The Burches asked me to go to Bangkok; I shall go with them.'

  `It sounds delightful; there is no reason why you should get bored while I lecture. Besides, there would be little time to spend together; these sessions carry their quota of dinners and drinks parties and I'm ashamed to say that we all talk shop.'

  `I suppose you're going back to that beastly hospital or rooms until midnight or longer. We're supposed to be at dinner with the Burches, or had you forgotten?"

  'No. I phoned my excuses half an hour ago. They're expecting you and said they would get another man.'

  Matilda, watching Rhoda, saw how her ill temper had made her quite ugly; it was a pity that Mr Scott-Thurlow hadn't seemed to notice that for he was smiling at Rhoda quite charmingly.

  `I'm going,' said Rhoda coldly.

  He went with her into the house and presently returned to where Matilda was still sitting.

  `Have you nothing to say?' he asked. `I feel sure that you are bottling up a number of searing speeches calculated to put me in my place.'

  `Well, I am, but what would be the use?"

  'None at all, so swallow your dudgeon and listen to me... You will be kind enough to get your things together tomorrow and Lucy's too, telephone your family by all means-I have already told your mother. I will be here by eight o' clock on the day after tomorrow, so be ready to leave then. We should get to the cottage by lunchtime. There is a housekeeper, my mother's cook, pensioned off-her name is Emma Truscott, and she will have everything ready for you both. Please get Lucy out of doors as much as possible but don't let her get tired. But I don't need to tell you this-you're a sensible young woman. In just over two weeks she must return to school, when your duties will end.'

  `Why should I do this?' demanded Matilda. `You come here without a by your leave-'

  `It is my house,' he reminded her blandly.

  `You know very well what I mean, Mr Scott-Thurlow; I feel as though I'm being-being trampled underfoot.' She glared at him and looked quite enchanting. `Do this, do that, go here, go there ! I don't know why I put up with it.'

  `Yes, you do, Matilda.' He watched the colour flood into her face. `But when you address me so severely as Mr Scott-Thurlow I realise what a despot I am.'

  He sounded so meek that she wanted to laugh and did.

  `That's better. Shall we have tea out here? Go and get Lucy and I'll tell Twigg.'

  Lucy was enchanted with the idea of going down to Devon. She plied her godfather with questions while they had their tea until he said, `I must get back to my rooms-I have several patients to see.' He got up and stopped to receive Lucy's hug and kiss. `Remember to be ready to leave promptly,' he reminded Matilda. He hesitated, staring down at her, smiling wryly, but he didn't say anything, only nodded briefly as he went.

  It was Twigg who told her that evening that Mr Scott-Thurlow had gone to Birmingham to operate at one of the hospitals there. `Some tricky case, I'll be bound, Miss Matilda; he gets called all over the place, so he does.'

  They were up early on the day of their departure and went down to breakfast soon after seven o' clock to find Mr Scott-Thurlow already at the table. His `good morning' was genial and followed by the observation that he was delighted to see them up so promptly.

  `Will you stay at the cottage with us?' asked Lucy.

  `No, I shall have to come back here this evening; I'm going to Leiden tomorrow.'

  `You will come down and see us though?' Lucy persisted.

  `Well, we'll have to see about that. Shall we take Canada and Theobald with us?'

  Matilda and Lucy chorused, `Of course,' and two pairs of eyes gave him an indignant look. `They don't see much of you anyway,' declared Matilda.

  His smile was mocking. `Sometimes I suspect that you would wish to change my life for me, Matilda.'

  She choked over her coffee. `Certainly not,'

  She spoke with such vehemence that he laughed. `You're not much good at telling fibs,' he told her.

  They set off in good time with Lucy on the back seat, Theobald on her lap and Canada sitting very erect beside her. Matilda settled into her seat beside Mr Scott-Thurlow and cast about for harmless topics of c
onversation. She tried the weather, the charm of the country, the pleasure of driving early in the day and so on, then since she had received nothing but grunts and monosyllables in reply, lapsed into silence.

  Presently he said, `You have no need to make small talk with me, Matilda, I am very content to drive with you silent beside me.'

  At which remark she drew a long, smouldering breath. `If you will stop for a moment I will change places with Lucy...'

  He answered her seriously, although she suspected that he was laughing to himself. `No, no that won't be necessary. Have I offended you? I'm sorry; I haven't had muchh practice with pretty speeches.'

  `Well, it's time you had,' said Matilda wrathfully. 'You'll have to change your ways when you get married.'