by Betty Neels
‘Where’s Uncle Charles?’ asked Eileen.
Cordelia looked at her watch. ‘Just about ready to leave for the hospital, I should think,’ and heard the door of the apartment close behind him with relief. Probably he wouldn’t be home for lunch and by the evening she would have regained her cool and be able to meet him in her usual calm fashion. She said: ‘How about going to the shops directly after lunch? There won’t be much time this morning and you can have another nap if you like and then get up.’
She picked up the tray and walked to the door. ‘I’ll be back in an hour or so.’
It was very quiet in the apartment; the Thompsons would be in the kitchen, she would take the tray there and ask Mrs Thompson not to go into Eileen’s room for an hour or two. She was in the hall when the study door opened and the doctor came out.
She just managed not to drop the tray. The colour came and went in her face and she stood like an idiot until he took the tray from her and put it on the side table.
‘And why do you look so surprised?’ he asked mildly, ‘I do live here, you know.’
‘I heard the door—I thought you’d gone to the hospital. You’ll be late.’
‘Keeping out of my way Cordelia?’ He wanted to know, and she disliked the silky voice very much. ‘And although I make the habit of being punctual, I flatter myself that no one is going to say anything if I choose to turn up rather later than expected.’
‘Oh, yes,—I mean, no, I’m sure you do exactly as you like. I didn’t mean…’ She saw his mocking smile and held her tongue. His voice was still silky. ‘I wonder what you do mean, Cordelia. I should dearly like to know.’
‘I don’t mean anything,’ she snapped, ‘you surprised me…’
‘That is at least a beginning,’ he observed thoughtfully. ‘Let us see if I can surprise you again.’ He paused on his way to the door, kissed her hard and swiftly, and left the apartment, shutting the door behind him very quietly.
Cordelia stayed exactly where she was. He had surprised her, but he was full of surprises just lately. It was a very good thing that she would be leaving Vienna in a day or so. She must take care not to see more of him than she could help. They met at meals, but Eileen was there then, and it was easy enough to hold a casual conversation then, with the child bearing the bulk of the talk. Besides, he never spoke more than half a dozen words at breakfast. She went back to her room planning how best to keep out of his way. When she got there, she went and sat at her dressing table and studied her face. Very ordinary, she was bound to admit, and certainly it didn’t warrant being kissed for no reason at all. She must keep out of his way, she reiterated to her reflection and allow Eileen to do all the talking at lunch.
There was no need; he didn’t come home. They ate quickly while Eileen changed her mind a dozen times about what she wanted to buy. She still hadn’t decided when they reached the Graben and they wandered in and out of shops until she finally found the sandals she wanted, added a cotton top which took her fancy and some exquisite and expensive handkerchiefs for her mother, and then true to her promise, dragged Cordelia into Sacher’s for an ice. It was well past tea time by the time they got home and Cordelia judged it prudent to ask Thompson if they might have a tray of tea in the sitting room so that she had a good excuse for sitting quietly for half an hour; Eileen, she judged was a little too excited and would be overtired if she didn’t check her.
The tea came, and Eileen, impatient at the idea of sitting still, allowed herself to be coaxed to drink a cup and eat one of Mrs Thompson’s fairy cakes and presently Cordelia cunningly led the talk round to clothes—a subject which always had the child’s undivided attention, and an hour passed unnoticed. An hour brought to an end by Thompson’s entry to clear away the tea things with the remark that the doctor was bringing home guests for dinner. ‘And he particularly asked that you and Miss Eileen would join him and the lady and gentleman for dinner!’
‘I shall wear my new sandals,’ said Eileen at once and dragged Cordelia upstairs to decide what she should wear.
Lady and gentleman sounded a bit ominous. Austrian? she wondered and were they rather special? She persuaded Eileen to wear a silky top and matching skirt instead of the rainbow hued cat suit she had in mind and wondered what she would wear herself. There was really no choice; it would have to be the blue; she had washed out the blood stains and pressed it carefully and if the doctor didn’t think she was smart enough for his dinner party, he would have to lump it. All the same she took great pains with her hair and face, and primed by Thompson, accompanied Eileen to the drawing room at seven o’clock exactly.
Uncle Charles was there, urbane in one of his grey suits and sitting with him was a man of his own age and a younger woman. The man was as tall as the doctor, fair haired with vivid blue eyes, and the girl was dark and beautiful; a big girl with great dark eyes. They both looked at Cordelia and Eileen as they went in, both smiling in such a friendly fashion that Cordelia smiled back.
‘Ah, Cordelia, Eileen, come in.’ The doctor sounded vaguely impatient. ‘Eugenia, this is my niece and her governess—Gerard…’
They shook hands and then accepted drinks and Eugenia said: ‘Come and sit here, Cordelia. I know all about you but I don’t suppose Charles even mentioned me.’ She didn’t wait for Cordelia to answer. ‘I’m English, so is Gerard; he is a surgeon and he and Charles were students together. Gerard’s here to operate on some VIP and Charles will anaesthetise. That’s tomorrow. I wondered if you’d take pity on me and show me round in the morning—I’m dying to go in one of those little carriages…’
‘We’d love to, Eileen’s parents are arriving in two days time and I’m hard put to it to keep her occupied without her getting too tired. We can take a leisurely ride round the inner city and if you want to go anywhere special, the fiacre will wait.’
‘Super. We have to go back in the evening—Gerard’s at St Clare’s and he’s got a list for the next day. We live in London—Cheyne Walk. Where do you live?’
‘My stepmother has a house in a village near St Albans.’
Eugenia gave her a guileless look. ‘Not too far from town in between jobs. Are you staying with Eileen when she goes back?’
Eileen, who had been sitting between the men on the sofa, heard that. ‘Of course she is—Cordelia’s going to stay with me for ever.’
Eugenia said easily: ‘Is she now? I was just asking if you would both show me something of Vienna tomorrow morning. My German’s fragmental so I hope you speak it?’
‘Oh, I do’, said Eileen proudly, ‘I’ve been taking lessons, and Cordelia speaks it ever so well, doesn’t she, Uncle Charles?’
Cordelia tried to look as though she wasn’t there while they all looked at her. ‘Well, I get by,’ she mumbled and went pink and Gerard came to her rescue with a kindly: ‘That’s more than I can say for Eugenia, although she says Bitte very nicely.’
Everyone laughed and just then Thompson came in to say that dinner was ready.
Eugenia was quite beautiful, thought Cordelia, sitting opposite her, and her dress was gorgeous, no wonder her husband looked at her as though she were the sun and moon and stars rolled into one. She wondered how long they had been married; perhaps she could ask tomorrow; it would be fun having another girl to talk to; living in the doctor’s apartment had hardly been a social whirl. Not that governesses expected that, but beyond one or two stiff conversations with Eileen’s German teacher, she had spoken to very few people. Except the doctor, of course. She glanced at him across the table and found his eyes upon her and looked away quickly.
They had coffee in the drawing room and presently she caught Eileen’s eye and accompanied that reluctant young lady to her room. She had thought to escape herself at the same time but the doctor got up to open the door for them and asked her in a voice which brooked no contradiction to return as soon as possible and keep Eugenia company. ‘Gerard and I have one or two small problems to iron out, and I’m sure you two girls can find som
ething to talk about.’
They found plenty; they had taken to each other on sight, and after a discussion, in depth, on the present fashions, they progressed to personal opinions about this and that and thence to a somewhat more intimate conversation, wherein Eugenia enlarged upon the delights of being married to a man like Gerard.
‘How did you meet?’ asked Cordelia.
‘Well, at St Clare’s. Gerard’s Senior Consultant on the Chest Unit there and I was Women’s Ward Sister…’
‘How romantic. Did you fall in love at first sight?’
‘Good Lord no. At least I didn’t.’ Eugenia dimpled engagingly. ‘And Gerard isn’t a man to show his feelings.’ She added unexpectedly ‘Nor is Charles, is he?’
Cordelia went pink. ‘I don’t know. How—could I? I hardly ever see him; I’m Eileen’s governess.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘There was a very attractive girl here one evening…’
Eugenia laughed. ‘I expect he’s got half a dozen up his sleeve—I bet he doesn’t marry any of them. Gerard says he’s a dark horse.’
‘He works very hard.’
Something in Cordelia’s voice made her companion give her a sharp glance. ‘He’s what they call an eminent physician, like Gerard’s an eminent surgeon. They can’t help themselves. Now, tell me, what shall we do tomorrow?’
They had their plans nicely laid when the men rejoined them and presently Gerard and Eugenia went back to their hotel. Cordelia, left in the drawing room while the doctor saw his guests down to the street, thought it prudent to go to her room and was in fact half way along the corridor when he called softly from the hall.
She had to stop. She turned round and asked: ‘Yes, Dr Trescombe, you wanted me?’
‘Indeed I do.’ He held the drawing room door open for her and she went past him, to stand in the middle of the handsome carpet facing him.
‘We’ll have some coffee, shall we?’ He asked and without waiting for her answer tugged the old fashioned brass bell handle by the ornate stove. ‘You’ve arranged something for tomorrow morning with Eugenia?’
‘Yes, thank you. Eileen’s coming with us, unless you object?’
He sounded testy. ‘Why should I object? I may not be an ideal uncle but I’m no ogre.’
She made haste to agree. And when the silence went on for too long: ‘You wanted to see me, Dr Trescombe?’
‘Sit down. My sister and her husband will be here in two days time. They would like to stay in Vienna for a few days—I take it that you are free to return with them when they wish. You have no other job to go to?’
He’d asked her that before; perhaps he had forgotten. ‘No nothing.’
‘Eileen would like you to stay with her.’
‘Yes, she told me so.’ She didn’t add anything; Eileen was an indulged child, almost for certain if she said that she wanted Cordelia to stay, no one would stand in her way. She felt reasonably sure that the job was hers as long as she liked to have it.
The coffee came and she poured out for them both. ‘I am leaving for London myself in ten days or so.’ The doctor had gone to sit in his chair with the air of a man who had all the time in the world. ‘Perhaps we shall meet there.’
‘That’s not very likely,’ said Cordelia matter-of-factly. ‘I mean, you’re… Eugenia said you were an eminent physician—governesses don’t mix with them.’
He said idly: ‘But you will not remain a governess all your life, Cordelia.’
‘I’m not trained for anything.’
He said quietly: ‘You could live at home for a while and take some course or other. You live near London?’
She had no intention of telling him. ‘Oh, I don’t think I’d like to do that and I quite like being a governess, you know.’
‘Indeed? You could conceivably find yourself with four children to look after instead of one, all of them ten times worse than Eileen. Even a saint wouldn’t like that.’ He settled back in his chair. ‘Why not train as a nurse? You have O levels, haven’t you? A levels too probably,’ and when she nodded. ‘So there would be little difficulty in being accepted for training. I could put in a word for you at Clare’s.’
She said too quickly: ‘Oh, no—no, thank you. I don’t think I’d like that.’ And nor would she, meeting him, perhaps from time to time, and each meeting would rekindle her love, far better to make a clean break; go back to England and never see him again. She remembered then that of course he was Eileen’s uncle and if she stayed as governess to the child, they would be bound to meet at some time or other. She would have to leave Eileen once they were back home—she wouldn’t be missed when Eileen started going to school again—and get something well away from London…
‘What are you plotting so busily?’ asked the doctor.
‘Me? plotting? Oh, nothing—just thinking.’ She put down her cup and saucer. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll go to bed.’
She hardly expected him to answer this, nor did he. He got up and held the door for her. As she went past him he observed: ‘Things have a way of working out, Cordelia—there’s no need to fret your charming head too much.’
She gave him a startled look as she went and quite forgot to say good night…
She pondered that remark while she got ready for bed and came to the conclusion that he was referring to her chances of staying with Eileen. It surprised her a little that he should concern himself about that; he had never shown much interest in her. And that’s a pity, she told herself getting into bed. She hopped out again and went to look at herself in the dressing table mirror. ‘But what can you expect?’ She asked her reflection, there was nothing in her appearance to catch the eye, especially the eye of someone like Eileen’s Uncle Charles. She sighed and got back into bed and presently she went to sleep.
She was her usual neat calm self at breakfast; Eileen, cautioned to contain her excitement at the idea of spending the morning with Eugenia and herself, sat through the meal in such a concentration of unspoken feeling that her uncle looked up presently to remark, ‘You appear about to explode, Eileen, if you have something to say, do say it.’
‘I mustn’t—Cordelia told me to be quiet while you’re here, so that you are not disturbed.’
Cordelia watched his eyebrows lift. ‘Surely a little too stern, Cordelia? Am I so irascible?’ His voice was so cold that she blushed and then, peeved that he should criticise her so unfairly: ‘Yes, you are just that at breakfast. We neither of us mind,’ she explained, ‘we know that you like to read your letters and not talk and we do our best not to disturb you.’
‘I stand corrected. Do tell, Eileen.’
‘Eugenia’s coming and we’re going to ride all over Vienna in a fiacre and go to the shops; Cordelia told me just now—and she wants to buy things and I love shopping. I think Cordelia ought to buy herself a pretty dress too—we’ll both be able to help her choose it. You could take her out to dinner, Uncle, so that she could wear it.’
The doctor’s gaze flickered over Cordelia’s outraged face, he said heartily: ‘What a splendid idea, Eileen. I’m glad that you’re growing into a girl of sound common sense. Don’t you agree, Cordelia?’
‘I don’t want a new dress,’ said Cordelia, goaded.
‘Now that is something I cannot accept—all females want new dresses. Besides, Eileen is so anxious for you to have one, and surely it is a very trivial wish to grant her,’ he added outrageously: ‘She has been very good and brave over her appendix and deserves a treat.’
Cordelia choked. ‘A treat…I’m sure Eugenia’s shopping will take up all our time.’
The doctor rose from the table. ‘I see that you are determined to thwart the dear child and I will say no more. I shall not be home for lunch.’
He patted Eileen on the shoulder, gave Cordelia an intimidating look and went out of the room. He paused at the door and unobserved by the still fuming Cordelia, winked at his niece.
When he had gone, Eileen said thoughtfully: ‘Uncle Charles has changed since we came
here. Do you suppose it’s us?’
‘I really don’t know and I’m not particularly interested. Eileen, it was rude of you to discuss me with your uncle, I’m annoyed.’
Eileen got up and wreathed her arms round Cordelia’s neck. ‘Darling Cordelia, I didn’t mean to, really I didn’t, only I do think it’s a good idea for you to have a new dress. I mean, they are so pretty and not very expensive and you haven’t bought anything for weeks. It isn’t as though you’re unemployed and you’re coming back with us…’
Put like that it sounded sensible enough and almost for certain the doctor’s ‘what a splendid idea, Eileen’ had referred to the buying of a new dress, not an invitation to dinner.
‘Well,’ said Cordelia slowly, ‘if I buy one, what colour shall I get?’
The morning was a success for all three of them. Eugenia was borne off to the Hof Palace, settled in a fiacre, and driven from one famous building to the next while Cordelia and Eileen gave a running commentary; tiring work, so that they had to stop for coffee after an hour and since Eugenia had invited them to have lunch and there was still enough time, they drove on to give her a glimpse of the Schonbrunn Palace before going back to the inner city within the Ring for lunch, where they dismissed the fiacre and led Eugenia to Sacher’s Coffee House.
‘Gerard said most particularly that we were to come here,’ she explained, ‘and that you would tell me what to eat. Such a pity that we can’t stay longer.’
Over a lunch of omelettes, followed by a Sacher Torte and coffee they decided to look for Eugenia’s presents and then tackle the more serious business of a dress for Cordelia. Karntner Ring was their obvious goal, and here they spent the rest of the afternoon while Eugenia chose presents, and then, since they were hot and thirsty took them to Demel’s cake shop, where they drank more coffee and ate enormous cream cakes.
Much refreshed, they began their search for something suitable for Cordelia. She had fixed a modest price, and neither Eugenia nor Eileen, who considered privately that there was nothing they would wish to be seen dead in for that amount, said a word, but began a systematic search through the bigger stores. Eileen might be only a twelve year old, but she had a very adult view of fashion, and she and Eugenia fell simultaneously on a shrimp pink crêpe dress, simply cut, and for that very reason, looking much more expensive than it was.
