by Betty Neels
From time to time she glimpsed him dancing, partnering his colleagues’ wives, she supposed, slightly older women, well dressed and self-assured, but once or twice she saw that he was dancing with pretty girls, who laughed up into his face as though they had known him for years...
She was about to take to the floor with a stout, bearded man, whom she vaguely remembered having been introduced to, when Thomas slipped a hand under her elbow.
‘The supper dance,’ he observed mildly. ‘You don’t mind, Harry, if I claim my wife?’
The bearded man laughed. ‘It wouldn’t make a scrap of difference if I did, Thomas, but I shall lie in wait for you, Mrs Tait-Bullen!’
‘Who was that?’ asked Claudia, accepting a plate of vol-au-vents and a glass of wine. ‘I’ve met him, haven’t I?’
‘Yes, he’s the consultant pathologist and an old friend.’ He smiled. ‘You’re enjoying yourself? I’ve been showered with compliments about my bride.’
She went pink. ‘Oh, have you? People are very kind.’
‘I have been told how beautiful you are—and you are, Claudia, that dress is exactly right.’
Somehow that last bit spoilt the compliment.
‘You have been dancing with some very pretty girls. Of course, you must know all the nurses.’
He fetched her a little dish of ice cream before he replied.
‘Not quite all. You see, I meet only ward sisters and staff nurses, and then our conversation is purely professional, but once a year at this ball the senior staff dance with those of the nursing staff they work with on the wards or in Theatre or the clinics. I don’t know who started the idea, but the custom is handed down from one generation of doctors to the next.’
A remark which she found reassuring.
It was well past midnight when they got back home. Cork had left hot chocolate on the Aga, and they sat drinking it while Harvey snoozed in his basket.
‘A very pleasant evening,’ observed Mr Tait-Bullen, ‘and you have won all hearts, Claudia.’
‘It’s nice of you to say so, but it’s only because I’m a nine-days wonder.’
He laughed. ‘What a matter-of-fact girl you are.’ He took her mug from her. ‘And a sleepy one, too. I must leave the house by seven o’clock, so don’t get up until you have had your sleep. I should be home for tea.’
‘Oh, good.’ She yawned, and rubbed her eyes like a child. ‘It was a lovely evening, and it was lovely to dance.’
He got up and hauled her gently from her chair. ‘Indeed it was.’
He opened the door and gave her a gentle shove. ‘Off to bed, and sleep well.’
She hesitated a moment, but he held the door open, smiling a little, so she wished him goodnight and took herself off to bed, feeling vaguely unhappy.
She woke late, and when she went downstairs Cork was waiting for her with Harvey scampering at his heels.
‘You slept well, madam? I have set breakfast in the sitting room by the fire. A most inclement day, I’m afraid. I am to tell you from the Professor not to venture too far in this weather.’
Claudia peeped out of the window. Indeed, it looked horrid outside—dull and grey with an unremitting drizzle.
‘It looks awful, Cork, but Harvey must have his run...’
‘Perhaps a brisk turn in the garden, madam. There is always the chance that the weather will improve.’
‘Well, I hope it does, for we are going to Little Planting on Sunday. We’ll take Harvey with us.’ She poured her coffee. ‘Cork, you do have a day off each week, don’t you?’
‘I have two half days, madam, and such free time as I can arrange without upset to the running of the house.’
He sounded cagey, and she added hastily, ‘I’m sure you have it all worked out, Cork. But I just thought that it would be a chance for you to have a day to yourself while we are out.’
‘Thank you, madam. I shall avail myself of your offer...’
‘I expect that you have family and friends to visit?’
‘Indeed, I have. At what time will you be leaving on Sunday, madam?’
‘Quite early, I believe, and we shan’t be back here until after tea.’
She finished her breakfast and spent the morning tying up presents, considerably hampered by Harvey. When, after lunch, the drizzle ceased, she got into her mac, tied Harvey into his waterproof jacket and led him out for a quick walk. On the way home she stopped to look in the windows of the little shops she had found. The wool shop had a pretty knitting pattern in the window, with a basket of wools every colour of the rainbow. She already had a present for her mother, but there was no reason why she shouldn’t give her another one. She scooped up Harvey, tucked him under her arm and went into the shop.
In the end shop, in amongst the glass and silver bits and pieces, she found a small porcelain model of a dog, the spitting image of Harvey, just right for Thomas’s desk. She went home well pleased with her finds, and found Thomas sitting by the drawing room fire reading the papers.
‘Oh, how lovely, you’re home. No, don’t get up. I’ll tell Cork I’m back and we’ll have tea.’
When she had poured the tea and offered him sandwiches, she asked, ‘Have you had a busy day?’
Mr Tait-Bullen bit into a buttered scone. ‘Much as usual.’ He offered Harvey a bit of scone, and didn’t see the disappointment on her face. He seemed to shut her out of his working life sometimes. Perhaps he thought that she was not really interested. He added, ‘You have created quite a sensation, you know...’
‘Me? Didn’t I behave like a consultant’s wife? Shouldn’t I have danced so much?’
‘You behaved beautifully, my dear, and everyone is enchanted by you. I was inundated with invitations. I can see that we have a busy social winter ahead of us.’
‘Do you mind that? If you do, I’ll make excuses.’
‘No, you mustn’t do that. I rely on you to organise our leisure, and several of the invitations will be for you alone, I imagine—coffee mornings and tea parties.’
He finished his tea, and, with the remark that he had work to do, went to his study. Harvey went with him and she was left sitting alone. She had declared rather too quickly that she had letters to write, and he had nodded casually with the remark that they would meet at dinner.
He had told her before they married that he wanted a companion. It seemed to her that he had forgotten that—or was it that she bored him? She told herself not to be silly, allowing imagination—and, it must be admitted, a modicum of self-pity—to take over.
But she forgot all that when at dinner he suggested that they leave early on Sunday morning so that they might take a look at some likely villages not too far from Little Planting.
‘Is there any particular village you fancy? We might at least look around us, so that after Christmas we can house-hunt in earnest.’
‘Would we spend the weekends there?’
‘Whenever possible, and any free days that I can manage. Somewhere not too far from a good road back to town.’
‘Well, there’s a lovely little village—Child Okeford—south of Shaftesbury, close to Blandford, and only a mile or so from the main roads. Years ago I used to go there with Mother, she had an old schoolfriend living there, but she moved away. I dare say it’s changed. I must have been nine or ten years old.’
‘Then we will have a look at it before we go to Little Planting. If we leave really early we should have plenty of time to look around.’
* * *
THEY LEFT AT eight o’clock. It still wasn’t full daylight, and the streets were Sunday morning quiet. The presents were packed in the boot, and Harvey, wrapped in an old shawl, slept peacefully on the back seat. Claudia felt her spirits soar as she got into the car. She was wearing the leather jacket over a silk shirt and a tweed skirt, and leather boots which ha
d cost so much that she felt quite faint when she thought about it. But they were worth every penny—as supple as velvet and exactly matching the colour of her jacket.
She would have liked to draw Thomas’s attention to them, but he seldom noticed what she wore, although he never failed to tell her that she looked nice. But he didn’t look, she reflected, not at her, not to see her in detail, as it were. She dismissed the thought as unworthy; he was a kind and thoughtful husband and they got on famously.
They reached Child Okeford an hour and a half later. There was a pale watery sun now, and the village still slept under it. In another hour there would be church, and people setting off in their cars or going for a country walk, but for the moment they had the place to themselves.
‘Could we park and look around?’ asked Claudia.
They left the car in the centre of the village and, with Harvey on his lead, began to explore.
‘It hasn’t changed much,’ said Claudia. ‘The village shop’s still there, and the pub.’ They paused to admire the church and walked the length of the main street, stopping to explore the narrow side turnings. It was a charming place, its cottages well kept, with one or two bigger houses standing back from the road. They had gone its length when Claudia saw a narrow lane leading away from it, half hidden by high hedges.
‘Let’s take a look, Thomas...’
The lane curved, and they passed two cottages with their doors opening directly onto the lane, and then round the next curve they saw another cottage, quite large, standing behind hedges. There was a For Sale board beside its old-fashioned wrought iron gate.
It must have been empty for some time, for the windows were uncurtained and the garden was woefully overgrown.
Claudia looked at Thomas, and he opened the gate and they walked up the brick path to the solid door under the thatched porch. There were windows on either side, and small windows above, tucked away under the thatch.
Claudia went to peer through one of the windows. ‘The kitchen,’ she said. ‘There’s another window at the side, and two doors. Come and look, Thomas.’
She went round the side of the cottage and found a door, and, at the back, more windows. A quite large room and next to it a room which took up the whole of the other side of the cottage. She bent to peer through the letter box. ‘There’s a staircase,’ she told Thomas, but when she turned round he wasn’t there. He was by the gate, writing down the address of the house agents.
‘Oh, Thomas, do you like it? I mean, well enough to want to see inside?’
Mr Tait-Bullen put away his notebook and walked up the path to join her.
‘Yes, I like it, too. The agent is a local man—Blandford—supposing we go and see him? I’ll phone him from the car—he might even come here to us.’
‘Now? This morning? Oh, Thomas...’
He looked at her, smiling a little. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone with excitement. He had the sudden urge to wrap her in his arms and kiss her. The thought took him by surprise; it was as though he was seeing her for the first time.
‘Now, this morning,’ he assured her, and nothing in his level voice showed his feelings.
They went back to the car and he phoned from there. The agent was willing to drive to meet them at the cottage. He would be with them in half an hour, he assured them.
‘Shall we phone your mother?’ suggested Thomas. ‘Tell her that we may be a little later than we intended?’
That done, they went back to the cottage, and while they were waiting poked round the garden. It was quite large, and there was a rough track at the side of it which led to a sizeable barn.
‘The garage?’ asked Claudia hopefully. ‘And, look, there was a greenhouse there and a summer house...’ She clutched his arm. ‘Oh, Thomas.’
The agent was middle-aged and fatherly, wearing comfortable country tweeds and carrying a bunch of large keys. When Mr Tait-Bullen apologised for disturbing his Sunday, he made light of it. ‘Come inside,’ he invited. ‘It’s solid enough, roof was thatched a couple of years ago, brick and cob walls, the usual mod cons. The old lady who lived here went into a nursing home six months ago, but she kept the place in good order.’
He opened the door with a flourish and stood aside to let them in.
The hall was narrow, with a staircase along one wall. There were three doors, and Claudia opened the first one. The room was large, with windows both at the front and the back of the house, an inglenook and open beams. Claudia rotated slowly, seeing the room in her mind’s eye just how it would look—an open fire, comfortable chairs, little tables with lamps on them, bookshelves. She crossed the hall, taking Thomas with her. The room on the other side of the hall was smaller, with cupboards on either side of an old-fashioned grate and more open beams.
‘The dining room,’ she breathed happily, and went into the kitchen. A quite large room, with an old-fashioned dresser and windows on either side of a door to the garden. And upstairs, leading off the small landing, were three rooms, two of them small but the third of an ample size. There was a bathroom, too, rather old-fashioned, but the plumbing, the agent assured them, was up-to-date.
Claudia wandered round on her own while the two men talked quietly in the hall, and presently Thomas went in search of her. She was hanging out of a bedroom window, planning the garden in her mind’s eye.
‘You like it? I’ve made an offer. He’ll let me know tomorrow when he’s contacted the owner.’
Claudia flung her arms round his neck. ‘Thomas, oh, Thomas!’ And she kissed him. She hadn’t kissed him like that before, and she drew back at once, rather red in the face. ‘Sorry—I got carried away.’
Mr Tait-Bullen didn’t allow the normally calm expression on his face to alter. The kiss had stirred him, but all he said was, ‘Let us hope that we are able to buy the place.’
She reminded herself that he was not a man to be easily aroused from his habitual calm. But he liked the little place; she could see that. They would furnish it together and spend happy weekends there and get to know each other.
Chapter SEVEN
CLAUDIA’S MOTHER CAME to meet them as they stopped before George’s door.
‘Darling, what kept you? You haven’t had an accident?’ She looked anxiously at Thomas. ‘All you said was that you were unexpectedly delayed... But come in, do, there’s coffee and mince pies...’
It had been a happy day, reflected Claudia, sitting beside Thomas as he drove back to London in the early evening. Such a lot of cheerful talk, presents to exchange, Tombs and Mrs Pratt to visit, a walk after lunch with Rob and Harvey, and, of course, the cottage to be discussed while the men exchanged views on medical matters.
Claudia, with her mother’s enthusiastic help had had the place metaphorically furnished, the curtains hung and the garden dug and in full bloom by the time they got into the car. She’d still been thinking about it as Thomas began the journey home.
‘Blue and white checked curtains in the kitchen, and that white china with blue rings round it—you know the kind I mean?’
‘I can’t say that I do, but I shall leave such matters to you—if and when the cottage is ours.’
She felt a stab of disappointment. Furnishing the little place together would have been fun. She reminded herself that he was a busy man, and that any free time he had he would want to spend in a way to please himself. She said, ‘It was a lovely day, Thomas, thank you for bringing me. Harvey enjoyed himself, too.’
They didn’t talk much more on the way back. Thomas replied cheerfully enough to her remarks, but she sensed indifference. A polite indifference, but all the same it was there, like an invisible wall between them. It was a relief to get home and find Cork waiting for them in the warm, well-lighted hall.
He led Harvey away to the kitchen for his supper, and Claudia, casting off her jacket, foll
owed him.
‘Have you had a pleasant day, Cork?’
‘Yes, thank you, madam. I trust that you had an enjoyable trip?’
‘Yes, yes, we did.’ She would have liked to tell him about the cottage, but perhaps Thomas might not like that.
Cork, spooning Harvey’s supper into a dish, said civilly, ‘Would supper in half an hour suit you, madam?’
She said that yes, that would be fine, and wandered away out of the kitchen and up to her room to tidy herself. When she went downstairs presently there was no sign of Thomas.
Cork met her in the hall. ‘The Professor has been called away—an emergency—he will phone you as soon as he is able. He had no time to say more, madam.’
Claudia stood in the hall looking at him, saying nothing, so he added, ‘I’ll serve you supper at once—there’s no knowing when he will be back, madam.’
‘All right, Cork. Let’s hope it’s nothing that will keep him away for too long.’
She ate her solitary meal and then went to sit in the drawing room, with Harvey for company. The evening was well advanced by now, and there had been no message. She sat there, pretending to read, her ears stretched to hear the sound of his return or a phone call, but there was neither. At midnight she took Harvey to his bed in the kitchen, and bade Cork goodnight after being told that he would wait up. ‘The Professor wouldn’t want you to lose your sleep, madam,’ he said, and was interrupted by the phone.
He answered it, and then handed it to Claudia.
‘Go to bed, Claudia. I shall probably be here for most of the night. Sleep well—I’ll have a word with Cork.’
She handed the phone to Cork, who listened with an expressionless face. His ‘Very well, sir’ was uttered in a disapproving voice, and when he rang off he said, ‘I am not to wait up, madam. I’ll lock up as soon as you are upstairs.’
There was nothing else to do but wish him goodnight, give Harvey a quick cuddle and go to her room.
She had expected to stay awake, waiting for Thomas’s return, but she fell asleep almost at once to wake hours later, not knowing why she had wakened. The house was quiet, but all the same she got up, peered at her clock and saw that it was almost four o’clock. She got into her dressing gown and slippers and crept downstairs, and as she reached the hall, the front door opened very quietly and Thomas came in.
