by Betty Neels
‘There, my darlings—you’ve grown, I declare.’ She embraced them and swept towards Lady Thorley. ‘Welcome, my lady. Your usual room and I’ve put Miss Pelham next to the children.’ She turned a beady eye on Daisy and smiled largely. ‘You’ll be wanting to see to them. If you, my lady, would go to the drawing-room while I show Miss Pelham their rooms? There will be coffee in a few minutes and lunch is at one o’clock.’
She bustled Daisy and the children up the elegant staircase at one side of the hall, along a narrow passage and into a room at its end. ‘The children usually sleep here.’
It was a large room with two beds and white furniture geared to suit a small person and a big window overlooking a surprisingly long, narrow garden at the back of the house. ‘You will be here, Miss Pelham.’ The housekeeper opened a door and Daisy walked past her into a charming room, the bed and dressing-table in maplewood, a comfortable little chair by the window and a matching tallboy against one wall. The bedspread and curtains were in a faint pink and the carpet underfoot was a deep cream and very soft.
‘The bathroom is here,’ said Mrs Trim, throwing open another door, ‘if you won’t mind sharing it with the children.’
Daisy nodded wordlessly and Mrs Trim trotted to the door. ‘You’ll want your coffee. It’ll be downstairs in the drawing-room; the twins know where that is.’
Left with the children, Daisy made haste to see to their wants, brush their hair, apply handkerchiefs to small noses, and urge them to good manners when they went downstairs while she tidied her already neat head, powdered her prosaic nose and added lipstick. That done, she led the way downstairs again. In the hall she said, ‘Josh, dear, which is the drawing-room?’
He took her hand and the three of them opened the door to which he led them. Lady Thorley was sitting there comfortably by a small fire in a handsome Adam fireplace but for the moment Daisy only had eyes for the room. It was of a comfortable size, its bow window overlooking the street and it was furnished with what she recognised as antiques. Beautiful cabinets, lamp tables, a long sofa table and in one corner a long-case clock was tick-tocking in a soothing monotone. The chairs were large, upholstered in wine-red velvet, and there were two sofas, one each side of the fireplace.
‘There you are,’ said Lady Thorley. ‘Daisy, come and have some coffee; you must be parched. Josh, Katie, Mrs Trim has made some lemonade especially for you. Sit down by Daisy and drink it up.’
Over coffee Lady Thorley voiced her plans for the evening. ‘This banquet is at nine o’clock but there’s a reception first and that’s at eight o’clock. We shall have to leave here about a quarter past seven. Would you see that the children have their suppers and go to bed? Mrs Trim will have a meal ready for you about eight o’clock. We shall be very late back so go to bed when you want to. In the morning would you give the twins their breakfasts and have yours at the same time and perhaps take them for a walk for half an hour or so? I expect lunch will be at one o’clock and we’ll leave about three o’clock. Hugh’s coming back with us, so he’ll drive, thank goodness.’
Daisy took a sip of coffee. It was delicious. ‘Very well, Lady Thorley. I could have supper with the children if that would be more convenient.’
‘No, no. You deserve an hour or two of peace and quiet. Trim will look after you.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘Lunch must be almost ready.’
She looked across at the children, one each side of Daisy, drinking their lemonade with deceptive meekness. ‘Now you must behave nicely at table…’
‘If they don’t,’ said the doctor from the door, ‘I shall throw them into the garden—not you, of course, Daisy.’
He strolled into the room, kissed his sister’s offered cheek, suffered an excited onslaught from his nephew and niece and wished Daisy a bland good-day. ‘You had a good trip?’ he asked. ‘Hugh should be here at any minute; I’ll tell Trim to serve lunch ten minutes after he gets here—that will give us time for a glass of sherry.’
Daisy hadn’t uttered a sound. She was surprised and delighted and at the same time puzzled; he had spoken as though he owned the place…
He caught her eye. ‘Welcome to my home, Daisy,’ he said and smiled with such charm that she blinked her lovely eyes and went pink.
‘You’ve gone all red,’ said Josh but before his mother could reprimand him Sir Hugh joined them and in the general hubbub and the handing of drinks Daisy was able to regain her normal colour and during lunch she was far too busy seeing that the children ate their meal and behaved themselves to feel self-conscious. The doctor’s manners were impeccable; whenever possible he included her in their conversation but beyond polite answers she took little part in it, which gave her the chance to look around.
The dining-room was behind the drawing-room, overlooking the back garden. Here again was a bay window with a door leading to a covered veranda. The walls were panelled and hung with paintings, mostly portraits, and the table and sideboard were mahogany of the Regency period. The table had been decked with a damask cloth, crested silver and crystal glasses. The soup was served in Worcester plates, as was the ragout of chicken, and, as a concession to the children’s presence, the trifle, with glacé cherries and whipped cream. The twins spooned their portions up without any urging and were bidden by their uncle to sit still while Daisy had her coffee. She didn’t linger over it; she felt sure that the three of them had plenty to talk about. She excused herself, removed the children from the table and bore them off upstairs where they were prevailed upon to lie on their beds while she told them a story. They were asleep within ten minutes, looking like two cherubs, leaving her to sit by the window with nothing to do. Presently, lacking anything to keep her awake, she closed her eyes and dozed off.
She woke to find the doctor sitting on Josh’s bed, a twin on either side of him. All three of them were watching her with unnerving intensity.
‘You were snoring,’ said Josh.
‘I never snore,’ declared Daisy indignantly, very conscious of being at a total disadvantage.
‘No, no, of course you don’t.’ The doctor was at his most soothing. ‘Josh, no gentleman ever tells a lady that she snores—it’s bad manners.’
Daisy sat very upright. ‘I’m sorry I went to sleep…’
‘No need to be sorry. I expect you were up early and two hours or more of these children, mewed up in a car, is sufficient to make anyone doze off. But we’re glad you’re awake. We wondered if you would like to come with us—we’re going to take a quick look at the zoo.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s not yet three o’clock—we could have an hour there and come back for a late tea.’
He didn’t wait for her to agree. ‘If you could get these two ready, and yourself, of course, and come downstairs in ten minutes or so, I’ll have the car outside.’
He had gone before she had said a word.
For once the twins were both quick and helpful; with a minute to spare they were downstairs in the hall where they found the doctor talking to his sister.
‘Splendid, you’re ready. Meg, we’ll be back around five o’clock—tell Mrs Trim to have tea ready for the children, will you? Ask for yours when you want it.’
He ushered his party outside, shovelled the children into the car and told Daisy to get in beside him. ‘A pity Belle can’t come too…’
‘Oh, is she here? I haven’t seen her.’
‘She has been with me all the morning—she’s in the garden now; you’ll see her when we get back.’
The streets were comparatively empty, and the distance wasn’t great; beyond the excited chatter of the twins, little was said. Once there, they lost no time in deciding what had to be seen in the time they had.
‘Snakes and scorpions, sharks and man-eating tigers,’ demanded Josh, to be instantly contradicted by his twin.
‘Bears and elephants,’ s
he demanded, ‘and a camel.’
‘Well, I dare say we shall have time to see all of them, provided you don’t hang around too long. Let’s get the snakes and scorpions over first, shall we?’
Daisy, annoyed at the high-handed way in which the doctor had arranged her afternoon without so much as a by your leave, found her annoyance melting in the face of the children’s happy faces and his whole-hearted enthusiasm for the afternoon’s entertainment. The snakes and scorpions duly shivered over, the bears admired, the camels marvelled at, there was time to have a ride on an elephant. The twins weren’t faint-hearted; they needed no one with them, they assured their uncle and Daisy watched the great beast with its burden of small people plod away.
‘They’ll be all right,’ she breathed anxiously. ‘They’re so small, though…’
‘Well, of course they’re small; they’re children, aren’t they?’ The doctor sounded testy. ‘Do you suppose I should allow them to go unless I was quite certain they would come to no harm?’
‘Well, no,’ said Daisy placatingly, ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t.’
He looked down at her. ‘How’s the job going?’
‘Very well, thank you.’ She considered telling him that Sister Carter had mentioned her training to be a nurse, but decided not to—it might sound a bit boastful.
‘I suppose you won’t be there long,’ he said airily, a remark which sent her into instant panic.
‘Oh, why not? Aren’t I suitable? I know I’m not as quick as Maisie…’
‘Suitable? Oh, you’re that all right. I was merely uttering my thoughts aloud.’
He said no more, leaving her to wish that he would keep his thoughts to himself.
The children came back then and there was no chance to ask him what he had meant. With the promise that they should come again next time they came to London, the twins were stowed in the car and, with a silent Daisy beside him, the doctor drove back to his house. It was a crisp winter evening and Daisy thought longingly of tea and was delighted to find that Mrs Trim, mindful of the twins’ bedtime, had set out a splendid meal in a small room at the back of the house. It was a very cosy room, with a bright fire burning, plenty of bookshelves and comfortable chairs as well as the round table loaded with the twins’ favourite food, a pot of tea for Daisy and a dish of little cakes.
Lady Thorley joined them for a moment. ‘I’m just off to dress,’ she told Daisy. ‘We shall have to leave in an hour or so—you’ll be all right? I know Val has told the Trims to look after you. We shall be late back, I expect.’
She embraced her children. ‘I’ll come back and tuck you up before we go,’ she promised, ‘and so will Daddy.’
The children were nicely tired and, after a splendid meal, sleepy. Daisy led them away upstairs, undressed them, and urged them, rather reluctantly, to their baths. They were emerging from these noisy and damp activities, the twins with shining faces and smelling of the best kind of soap, and Daisy dishevelled and damp, when their parents and the doctor came to say goodnight. Lady Thorley, in sequinned black chiffon, looked superb, as did Sir Hugh in his white tie and tails, but it was the doctor who stole the show; he wore his evening clothes with ease and elegance, his broad shoulders enhancing the inspired cut of his coat, the very size of him meriting a second or even third glance. Daisy took one look and turned her head away because he was watching her with that small smile which she found so disconcerting. There was no need to look at him again; she was fully occupied in keeping the twins from embracing their mother too fervently.
‘If you get into your beds,’ she suggested in her calm fashion, ‘I dare say everyone will kiss you goodnight.’ She added artfully, ‘And there’ll still be time for another chapter of The Rose and the Ring.’ This was a book to which they were passionately devoted and which Lady Thorley had had the presence of mind to bring with her.
Soothed by their favourite story, the children presently slept and Daisy went down to the quiet dining-room and found Trim waiting for her.
‘A glass of sherry, miss—little Josh and Katie can wear you out.’ When Daisy hesitated he added, ‘The doctor said you should have a glass before your dinner, miss.’
‘Oh, did he?’ asked Daisy. ‘How kind of him. In that case I’d like one.’
Presently Trim led her to the table. At the sight of the damask and silver and crystal, for all the world as though the table had been decked out for a dinner-party, Daisy exclaimed, ‘Oh, but you shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble! I could have had something on a tray.’
‘The doctor wished it, miss,’ said Trim, ‘and I must add it is a pleasure for us. Mrs Trim has cooked a meal which she hoped you will enjoy.’
He disappeared and returned presently with vichyssoise soup, and Daisy’s small nose wrinkled at its delicious aroma. It tasted good too—this wasn’t something out of a tin, it was the real thing, made with cream and eggs and chicken stock nicely mingled with the creamed leeks. It was followed by a perfectly grilled sole, sautéd potatoes and braised celery, and when Trim offered her white wine she accepted, quite carried away by the unexpectedness of it all.
‘Mrs Trim’s special sweet,’ murmured Trim, removing her empty plate and offering a chestnut soufflé with chocolate cream, ‘and I shall serve your coffee in the drawing-room, Miss Pelham.’
When she hesitated again he added, ‘The doctor hoped that you would keep Belle company for a little while.’
‘Well, just for a short time,’ said Daisy, ‘and do please thank Mrs Trim for that delicious meal.’
Belle was delighted to see her and accompanied her on a tour of the room. There was a lot to see: fine porcelain and silver in their display cabinets and a great many paintings, mostly portraits. She supposed that they were of the doctor’s ancestors, for several of them had his dark hair and heavy-lidded eyes, even the suspicion of the smile which made her feel so uneasy.
An hour passed quickly and when the case clock chimed a tinkling half-hour she bade Belle goodnight and went into the hall. Should she go to bed without telling Trim? she wondered. Would he mind if she went in search of him through the baize door at the end of the hall? As if in answer to her problem Trim appeared silently from the dining-room, asked if there was anything she required, wished her goodnight and informed her in a fatherly way that should the children wish to get up early either he or Mrs Trim would be about in the kitchen should they require a drink of milk before their breakfast.
Daisy thanked him, wished him goodnight and went to her room. The twins were fast asleep; she bathed in peace, got into her own deliciously comfortable bed and closed her eyes. Before she dozed off she wondered what the doctor was doing and whom he might be with. Some lovely young woman, she thought forlornly, dressed with the same expensive taste as Lady Thorley. She was too tired to wonder why the thought made her unhappy.
She was wakened by the twins who had climbed on to her bed and were whispering into her ear, urging her to wake up. ‘We want to go into the garden with Belle,’ Josh explained.
Daisy sat up in bed, tossing back her mousy curtain of hair. ‘Isn’t it a bit early? Wouldn’t it be nice if you got under the eiderdown and I read a bit more of The Rose and the Ring?’
Katie liked the idea but Josh thrust out his lower lip and shook his head. ‘I want to go into the garden…’
‘So you shall presently, love, but it’s only just after six o’clock; it isn’t even quite light…’
‘Belle wants to go too.’ He fixed her with a very determined eye. ‘We’re going home today and she won’t see us again.’
‘Oh, I’m sure she will; your uncle often goes to see you. You stay here with Katie like a good boy and I’ll fetch your book.’
The house was pleasantly warm and the carpet was soft under her bare feet when she got out of bed and went in search of the book—a ma
tter of a minute or so, but when she got back Josh wasn’t there.
‘Josh says he’s going out into the garden,’ said Katie. ‘I think I’ll go too.’
‘We’ll all go,’ said Daisy desperately, ‘only give me time to get some shoes on his feet and his dressing-gown on. Stay there, darling—I promise we’ll all go if you do.’
Katie had made a tent of the eiderdown and was prepared to stay. Daisy flew out of the room and down the stairs, guided by the murmur of Josh’s voice, to be halted at the bottom step by the doctor’s voice. He was leaning over the banisters watching her with interest.
‘Good morning, Daisy,’ he observed in the mildest of voices. ‘A pleasant surprise so early in the day…’
‘Oh, be quiet, do,’ said Daisy waspishly. ‘Josh is going into the garden and he’s only in his nightclothes…’ It was borne in upon her that she was in a like state and she wasn’t wearing sturdy winceyette pyjamas.
The doctor had come down the stairs, wearing a rather splendid dressing-gown and soft slippers. He hadn’t been told to be quiet for a very long time and certainly not by a small girl in her nightie; he found it intriguing. He said, with a glance which reassured her that he hadn’t even noticed what she was wearing, ‘I’ll get him out of the kitchen and bring him back to you. Get the pair of them dressed and we’ll all go into the garden.’
Daisy was already halfway up the stairs but she turned round to whisper fiercely, ‘But aren’t you tired? Don’t you want to go back to bed?’
‘Yes to both questions. Just do as I say, there’s a good girl.’
She opened her mouth to tell him that she wasn’t his good girl but thought better of it and he went on down the hall to the baize door.
Katie was delighted as Daisy told her of the prospect of a walk in the garden with her uncle. ‘I’ll dress you in a minute,’ declared Daisy, tearing into her clothes, washing her face and cleaning her teeth and tugging a comb through her hair. She looked a fright but at least she was decent… Katie, for once, was only too glad to be dressed too; Daisy was fastening her shoes when the doctor, bearing a tray of tea and two mugs, closely followed by Josh and Belle, appeared silently at the door.
