The Most Marvelous Summer

by Betty Neels

  He came to a halt, staring down at her with a faint frown. `What is the matter, Matilda? When I was at the cottage I thought... Well, never mind that now.' He put his hands on her shoulders. `You have always been frank and outspoken,' he smiled a little, `too outspoken sometimes, but you are hiding something and I wonder why?"

  'I don't know what you're talking about...'

  She drew back from him and he let her go at once. `In that case I'll not say what I wanted to say to you; I should have told you at the cottage.'

  She said fiercely, `Well, I'm glad you didn't for I don't want to know.'

  He stared down at her thoughtfully, his face calm and unworried. `No? If ever you should change your mind, Matilda, you know where to find me.' He smiled suddenly. `And having admired the roses we had better be on our way.'

  They made their farewells and the two old people came to the door with them and watched them drive away, the dogs once more on the back seat, Matilda sitting rather erect beside James.

  `A dear girl,' remarked his grandmother. `She will manage him very well.'

  Abner Magna looked peaceful in the late afternoon sunshine and the rectory garden, untidy and a little neglected though it was, was full of colour. Their welcome was warm for everyone was at home and anxious to greet them, but Mr

  Scott-Thurlow, in a few well-polished sentences, made his excuses, bade them all goodbye and got back into his car, the reluctant dogs climbing in once more. He had said all the right things; Matilda had been of the greatest help and Lucy had grown very fond of her, in fact he was indeed very grateful and hoped that he hadn't hindered her in getting some more congenial job. He had wished her goodbye with a bland smile and eyes as hard as blue steel.

  `A pity he couldn't stay for supper,' said her mother, `but I dare say he wants to get back to town. Did Esme tell you in her letter that Rhoda Symes came here, Tilly? Full of her wedding arrangements, said to be sure and tell you because you'd be interested. I don't like her.'

  `Now, now, my dear,' said the rector mildly, `we must try and like everyone.'

  For once his wife disagreed with him. `You can't like someone you don't like,' she told him with female logic.

  The busy, happy life at the rectory was soothing to Matilda. Just for a moment she had felt sudden happiness at the sight of the envelope addressed to her in James's illegible handwriting, which someone had put on her dressing-table. She had opened it with a shaky hand and found a cheque inside and a businesslike slip of paper, typed no doubt by his secretary and signed with his initials. She would have liked to have torn it into little shreds and sent it back to him, but for once good sense had the ascendancy over her red hair. The cheque was for a tidy sum; it meant football boots for the boys, a new hat for her mother, a longed-for book for her father and clothes for Esme, Hilary and herself. She had put it in her purse, sniffed away a great desire to cry and gone downstairs to her supper.

  She had been home for a few days when her mother came back from the village. `I met Lady Fox, Tilly-she had heard that you were back and Roseanne wants you to go and see her.' She glanced at her daughter's beautiful and sad face. `I hope I did the right thing in saying you would go. She's coming home in a few days now but Bernard has had to go away and she's longing for company. Esme's too young and Hilary doesn't want to talk about anyone else's wedding except her own.'

  Matilda rubbed butter into flour, intent on making an apple tart. 'I'll go tomorrow if Father will let me borrow the car.'

  It was a quiet morning with the faint haziness of late summer in the air. She drove slowly while she thought. Once the boys were back at school and Esme back at her school, she would get a job, somewhere where there was no chance of meeting James, somewhere where no one knew him so that when he married Rhoda she wouldn't know about it, and then in no time he would become a memory, getting more and more vague until she couldn't remember what he looked like, and that would leave her free to marry some man who wouldn't rock her heart and send her pulses racing. Even as she thought it she knew that the very idea was nonsense; she would never forget him...

  Roseanne was sitting outside on the hospital veranda and professed herself delighted to see Matilda, proudly demonstrating the fact that, excepting for a gutter crutch, she was well again.

  `Of course, by the time we marry I shall be able to walk without the wretched thing. I must tell you about the wedding...' Something she did at great length; indeed she hadn't finished when she was interrupted-one of the sisters came through the open door on to the veranda and with her came Mr Scott-Thurlow.

  He saw Matilda at once but his face remained impassive. Nothing could have been more polite than his `good morning', uttered in a pleasant voice before he turned his attention to Roseanne.

  `I'll go,' said Matilda, praying feverishly that he would say that she might stay. Only he didn't, merely waited until she bade Roseanne goodbye and then nodded and smiled at her, at his most urbane. The impetuous side of her nature longed to throw something at him but the loving side wept silently at his bland indifference.

  The hospital was away from the main road, and Matilda started to drive back to Abner Magna along the network of country roads which would eventually take her home. They were quiet, used mainly by farm vehicles and people who had lost their way, and the villages were few and some miles from each other. The country here was open with splendid views and low, rolling hills. It was halfway up one of these that the engine coughed, laboured on for a few yards, coughed again and stopped.

  `Now what?' enquired Matilda of the surrounding quiet and got out and looked under the bonnet-a useless exercise for she had only the vaguest idea as to what was underneath it. It looked the same as usual. She got back into the car and pressed the self-starter; nothing happened, and it was then that she saw that there was no petrol. `Halfway up a hill, too,' she exclaimed. `Now what?"

  'What' materialised in the shape of a car coming with effortless ease up the hill. It came to a smooth halt a few yards ahead of her and Mr Scott-Thurlow got out. He walked unhurriedly to her car, stuck his head through the window and observed mildly, `Not a very good place to stop, but no doubt you had your reasons.'

  She bristled. `As though anyone with any sense would stop halfway up a hill...'

  He glanced at the dashhoard. `Out of petrol?'

  He shook his head in a particularly infuriating manner. `And I thought you were such a sensible girl.'

  `I am a sensible girl,' she snapped and tossed her fiery head at him. `Anyone can run out of petrol.'

  `Of course,' he said soothingly. `One only needs to forget to fill up.'

  Her eyes gleamed greenly. `Don't let me keep you-someone will come along presently-or perhaps you would be so kind as to stop at Dunn's garage-it's a mile or so along this road, just before you get to Littlecote-sub-Magna...'

  `I will be even kinder-I will put some petrol in your tank for you.' His smile mocked her. `I carry a spare can or two.'

  She might have known that he would; he was a man who was prepared for all eventualities. She watched him go back to his car, fetch the petrol, empty its contents into her tank and return the can to his own boot. He did it without haste and very tidily and then walked back again and opened her door. `Move over,' he told her.

  `Why?'

  He glanced at the few yards between the cars.

  `I don't want the Rolls to get bashed. So move over, dear girl; much as I would like to waste my time in your company I have to get back to town.'

  She moved over. `You had no need to stop,' she muttered crossly.

  `That is one of the silliest remarks I have ever heard; a pity I haven't the time to tell you why.'

  He drove her car up to the crest of the hill and stopped. `Off you go,' he told her as he got out. `And for heaven's sake drive carefully.'

  A remark calculated to send her shooting along the narrow road as fast as she could. All the same, he overtook her at the bottom of the hill and soared away out of sight without even glancing at her
as he passed.

  She was still seething when she got home and the sight of Lady Fox sitting outside the drawing-room window hardly improved her temper. Her mother was there too and the coffee-tray and both ladies turned to look at her as she crossed the grass.

  Lady Fox was all graciousness. 'Matilda you have just returned from visiting Roseanne? Does she not look well`? Such a splendid job Mr Scott-Thurlow has done on her poor leg.' She sighed loudly. `Though I shudder to think of his bill. Still, one must have the best, must one not?' She took a good look at Matilda. `I must say you are rather pale; surely you should have more colour after your lovely holiday in Devon? I heard all about it from Rhoda.'

  Matilda accepted a cup of coffee from her mother. `But she wasn't there.'

  Lady Fox looked arch. `Well, no-she dislikes the cottage, I believe, but Mr Scott-Thurlow spent a couple of days there, did he not? And naturally he would have told her all about it.' She added reprovingly, `They are engaged, after all.'

  `I wonder what will happen when they marry?' mused Matilda out loud. `Will he spend his holidays at Stoke Fleming and Rhoda carry on withh her round of parties?'

  Lady Fox's formidable bosom swelled alarmingly. `Really, Matilda, I don't think that remark is in the best of taste.' She looked away from Matilda's green stare. `What do you intend to do next?"

  'I've no idea, Lady Fox.' She finished her coffee. `You'll excuse me?' She smiled at her mother. `I'll get those beans blanched ready for the freezer.'

  The two ladies watched her go. `Such a sensible girl,' said Lady Fox. `It must be a great worry to you that she is not yet married.'

  Mrs ffinch smiled. `Why should it worry me? Matilda could have married several times over but she is content to wait until she meets the right man.'

  `Supposing she doesn't?' asked Lady Fox acidly.

  `Oh, but she will, I have no doubt about that.' Mrs ffinch lifted the coffee-pot. `Will you have another cup?'

  Mrs ffinch might have had no doubts about her daughter, but Matilda was a mass of conflicting emotions. She longed to see James again but what good would that do? For when they did meet, she snapped at him and he-he laughed at her even when his face was placid. She must amuse him a good deal and she had been a fool to kiss him. He shouldn't have kissed her in the first place though...

  She did her best to settle down into the bosom of her family, undertaking rather more chores than she needed to in and around the parish, helping in the house, cooking and gardening. None of these were enough to stop her thinking. She had been at home for just over a week when she told her mother that she had seen a job in the Western Gazette and intended to apply for it. `Someone wants help with an old lady who has gone a bit dotty, I gather. In the Western Highlands...'

  Her mother, beating batter, paused for a second and then went on calmly, `It sounds a long way away, darling-and an old lady, senile at that-she would be very trying.' She saw the obstinate set of Matilda's gentle mouth and went on quickly. `But I dare say a change would be pleasant. They say the scenery is magnificent.'

  Matilda thought sadly she didn't care a button about the scenery; it was a long way from James. `I think I'll write anyway,' she announced and drifted away to find pen and paper, sit down at the little desk in the sitting-room and then fall into a daydream where James came in through the door...

  Esme came through the door instead. `I say,' she said excitedly, `have you seen this?' She waved the Daily Telegraph at Matilda.

  `How could I have seen it?' Matilda, her daydream interrupted, spoke testily. `You've got the paper.'

  `Well, I'll read it to you. It says, "The marriage arranged between Miss Rhoda Symes and Mr James Scott-Thurlow will not now take place "'

  The paper was whipped out of her hand and Matilda read it for herself, and just to make sure she read it for a second time. He had wanted to tell her something at the cottage and she hadn't let him-he had told her that she would know where to find him if she were to change her mind and yet when he had stopped to give her petrol he hadn't said a word; indeed, he had been at his most tiresome...

  `What are you going to do?' asked Esme.

  `Do, what should I do? It's no concern of mine.'

  Esme gave her a thoughtful look. `You've been in love with James for a long time, haven't you? The least you can do is tell him.'

  Matilda looked at her with horror. `Tell him? I'd sooner die.'

  Which dramatic statement was ignored by her sister. 'Rubbish-you do love him, don't you, Tilly?'

  `Yes.' Matilda got up so quickly that paper and envelopes flew in all directions. She darted through the door and into her father's study.

  `Father, may I borrow the car? Just to get to Sherborne-I want to catch the London train.'

  Her father studied her face, usually so serene, and saw that she was labouring under some strong emotion. `Certainly you may, Matilda. How long will you be gone? I might need it in the meantime...'

  `Oh, I hadn't thought of that. I don't know, I'm going to see James-Mr Scott-Thurlowif-that is, I might come back later today-it depends.'

  The Reverend Mr ffinch pushed his sermon to one side. 'Hilary will be back from Salisbury this afternoon; ask the station-master to tell her to pick the car up from the station yard. She can drive herself back here.' He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. `You had better hurry, my dear.'

  She dropped a kiss on to his thatch of grey hair and tore through the house and upstairs to her room, where she began rooting around in her wardrobe. It had become important that she look her best.

  A glance at her watch told her that if she was to catch the train fussing around deciding what to wear wasn't to be considered. She got into the flowered two-piece; he had seen it often enough, but who cared?

  She would have liked to have spent some time on her face and hair, but as it was they both received perfunctory attention. She crammed odds and ends into her haadbag; at least she had some money...

  Her explanations to her mother were garbled and vague, leaving that lady to sort them out at her leisure. She kissed her parent swiftly and ran out to the shed where the car was kept. Esme was there. `You're wearing that again,' she said, `but of course if James loves you he won't care if you're wrapped in a sack.'

  `I don't know,' said Matilda wildly. `Sometimes I thought... and then I was sure that he didn't...'

  She got into the car and Esme leaned through the open window. `Well, you'll soon know...' She glanced over her shoulder and luckily Matilda, bent over the ignition key, didn't see her face, wreathed in a wide grin. The Rolls was nosing its way through the open gate and came to a halt. `Back carefully,' she told Matilda.

  The car started up in a middle-aged fashion and Matilda began to back it out of the shed; there was plenty of room to turn at the side of the house. She gave a perfunctory glance in the mirror, gasped with fright and braked within a few feet of the Rolls, which was effectively blocking her path.

  Mr Scott-Thurlow had got out and so had the dogs. Esme, regretful that she was about to miss an interesting situation, whistled to them and took herself off, round to the back of the house.

  Matilda didn't see her go and if Mr ScottThurlow did he gave no sign.

  He walked without haste from his car to hers, opened the door and waited while she got out.

  `Going somewhere?' he wanted to know.

  She was trembling with the excitement of seeing him and the shock of very nearly backing into the Rolls. She said in a shaky little voice, `I almost backed into your car. I could have damaged it.'

  He had taken her hands in his. `Rolls-Royce motor cars don't damage easily. Were you coming to see me?'

  When she nodded he said, `I thought that you might. You are a very obstinate girl, my darling-that is because of your lovely red hair, of course, but I do hope that, when we are married, you will listen meekly when I have something to say to you. Of course until this moment there has been very little opportunity.'

  `Don't you love her?"

  'No. And I
never did. How delightfully direct you are, dear heart.' He smiled down at her. `I love you, and deep in your heart you know that. I loved you the moment I saw you in church. I wanted to marry you there and then, but of course that wouldn't have been very practical, and besides I had to end my engagement to Rhoda. All the while I wasn't sure if you loved me.'

  `How could you possibly know? I never said a word.'

  He smiled slowly. "`There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip... "'

  `Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida,' said Matilda, momentarily diverted. `Then why didn't you-?'

  He bent and kissed her very gently. `Dear heart, when did you ever give me any encouragement?'

  `You don't need encouragement,' she told him flatly. `You know just what you're doing with your life; you're successful and nothing seems to disturb you-you're so calm.'