by Betty Neels
"No problem, madam-if you would prefer a short dress, then bring this one back and we will exchange it."
The matter happily settled, Araminta took herself home again to have her tea in the sittingroom she found so cosy, the dogs beside her. The professor, coming home earlier than he had anticipated, found her there, her nose buried in a medical journal.
Her heart gave a happy leap at the sight n him, but she said sedately, "You're home early-how nice. Would you like tea?"
"I had tea with Theatre Sister. Shall we take the dogs for their run?"
She got up at once. "I'll fetch a coat…"
"Have you phoned your father?"
"No. Not yet." She paused at the door, looking up at him. "But I will."
"Shall we do it now?" he suggested quietly, and picked up the phone on a side-table, dialled the number and handed the phone to her.
Her father answered.
"It's Araminta," she told him, and flinched at his "Tired of being a rich man's wife already, my dear? Just my joke. We're getting along very nicely. I could do with a small loan if you can spare it. Mustn't forget your old father, must you?"
Before she could answer, Alice's voice cut in. "He's not tired of you yet? Early days, l suppose. Don't come back here, we're doing very nicely. Maybe I'll come and visit you one day." She hung up, and Araminta put the receiver down slowly.
"They don't want to see you, but they expect you to send them money," said the professor.
"Yes-how did you know?"
"My dear, I have met your father and sister. You have been a dutiful daughter and sister, and they're banking on that."
"You make me sound a prig."
"No, no, never that. Don't send them any money, Araminta, I'll deal with that side of things. I may be able to help your father in some way. Will you leave it to me?"
"You're kind. You have enough to do without bothering with my family."
He put an arm round her shoulders. "Allow me to be the best judge of that."
They walked for an hour in the park with the dogs, comfortable in each other's company. Araminta could have walked forever, but they went back presently and dined in a leisurely fashion before the professor went to his study, leaving her to her needlework. This, she perceived, was to be the pattern of their evenings when they were at home-but not forever. Something must be done about that.
She went back to Harrods the next morning and had her hair washed and trimmed and dressed in an artful knot which made the most of its gentle brown. She had a manicure too. A facial was unnecessary, she was told; her skin was perfect, her eyebrows silky arches, her lashes long and curling. A little discreet lipstick, mascara of a suitable colour to enhance the lashes were all that was needed. She went back home well pleased with the beautician's efforts and hoped that she would be able to cope with the hair…
The professor, coming home rather later than usual, paused in the doorway to look at her. She was wearing the same pretty dress she had so hopefully worn after they had gone shopping together, and this time he noticed it. There was something different about Araminta too. He had always found her pleasant to look at but now he took a second look, uncertain what the difference was.
As she put down her work and got up to greet him, he said, "That's a pretty dress…' It wasn't much, but it was a start…
The following evening, getting ready for Marjorie's dinner party, Araminta paused to look in the looking-glass. She would never be pretty, but it was surprising what powder and lipstick and a professional hair-do did for one. She had worried over the right dress, but now, studying herself, she decided that she had made the right choice. The pink silk gleamed faintly through the grey chiffon and the dress was a perfect fit. As for the shoes-she had never had anything so elegant in her life before: grey satin with high, slender heels. She collected the evening bag which went with them, picked up the gossamer wooll wrap and went downstairs.
Jason was in the drawing-room, standing by the open doors to the garden, watching the dogs romping together. He turned to look at her as she went in, and she thought how magnificent he looked in his dinner-jacket.
"Charming," he told her in a voice which, to her anxious ears, sounded merely friendly, "and will you wear these with it? A belated wedding-gift."
Pearl drop ear-rings set in diamonds. "They're beautiful," she exclaimed. "Thank you, Jason."
She crossed to the big mirror over the fireplace and hooked them in and stood admiring them.
"This too," said the professor. "I should have given it to you before we married, but it slipped my mind."
He slipped the ring over her wedding-ring: sapphires ringed with diamonds and set in gold.
"Oh," said Araminta, and then added, "It fits…
"I remembered the size when we bought the wedding-rings."
She stretched up and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Jason. I'll take great care of it and wear it constantly." Were her efforts paying off already"? She doubted it. She wondered if any other girl had been given an engagement-ring with the observation that it had slipped the giver's memory.
It wasn't until she was sitting beside him in the car on the way to Marjorie's house that she had the unwelcome thought that he had given the ear-rings and ring to her because his sister might have commented on her lack of jewellery. It was a sobering thought.
Marjorie lived in a rather splendid house in Richmond with her husband and four children. Araminta wondered if she was as nice as her sister and tried not to feel nervous. There was no need for that; she was welcomed warmly, kissed and embraced and laughed over, and swept upstairs to see the children: three boys and a girl. "Twins, my dear," explained Marjorie. "The boys-they're seven-then there's Piers, who is five, and our little Rosie she's three."
Marjorie was younger than Lydia but just as nice, thought Araminta, admiring all the children under the rather stern eye of an elderly nanny. She was whisked back downstairs then, and led into a room full of people.
"Old friends," said Marjorie. "They're all longing to meet Jason's wife!"
Jason took Araminta's arm and led her from one to the other of the guests, and his firm hand gave her confidence so that she lost her initial shyness and began to enjoy herself. She thought she was going to like everyone there, although she had her doubts about a pretty redhead, older than herself and strikingly dressed. "This is Vicky," Jason told her. "We've known each other for a good many years now."
Vicky kissed his cheek. "Darling Jason, going behind my back like this and getting married my heart's broken!" She smiled at Araminta. "I do hope you'll be able to mend it, Araminta."
Araminta smiled. "I wouldn't have married him if I hadn't been sure of doing that!" she said lightly. She added mendaciously, "Since you're an old friend of Jason's, I hope we'll be friends too."
Vicky for once was uncertain. "Oh, of course-we must have coffee some time. Or lunch. Jason used to take me to a delightful little restaurant-we might go there."
Someone else joined them then, and presently she wandered off, leaving Jason faintly amused and Araminta at boiling-point. It rather suited her, for it gave her a pretty colour in her cheeks and added a decided sparkle to her dark eyes. When she was in a temper, he had noticed, they became almost black.
It was late by the time they got home, and Araminta wished Jason goodnight as they entered the hall.
"You enjoyed the evening?" he wanted to know.
"Yes, very much, thank you. I like Marjorie and your friends. I-I hope I did all the right things. I wouldn't like to let you down."
He crossed the hall and took her hands in his. "My dear Araminta, you were delightful-they all found you charming."
It would be nice, reflected Araminta, if Jason found me charming too. Love, if this was love, wasn't at all what she had expected; any charms his friends might have seen in her were clearly not visible to him. She withdrew her hands gently, wished him goodnight once more and went upstairs.
Something would have to be done, and quickly,
before that wretched Vicky got her elegant little claws into him. How, she wondered, did one get a man to fall in love with one-even show an interest… ?
Something which the professor was doing, if only she could have known. There had been something about Araminta which had caused him to look at her thoughtfully during the evening. There had been something different about her; it was as though she had made a discovery of some sort. Whatever it was, she was keeping it to herself. He smiled a little; her goodnights had been friendly but brisk. That was what he liked about her, he decided, her lack of coyness, her matter-of-fact way of looking at things. He went to his study with the dogs and sat down to make some notes for his next lecture, dismissing her comfortably from his mind. All the same, as he went to his room later he reminded himself that they would go to the cottage the next weekend-Araminta was good company and she had the gift of making herself invisible when he needed to work or read.
They left London the following Friday morning and, since they hoped to spend the weekend walking and pottering in the garden, Araminta wore the suede jacket and one of her new skirts with a silk shirt and cashmere sweater. She wore sensible shoes too, prudently added her Burberry and a headscarf, and added a plain jersey dress which the saleswoman had assured her would be most useful for countless occasions. One never knew, thought Araminta.
She hadn't seen much of Jason during the last day or so; he had been operating each day as well as seeing his private patients, and in the evenings she had sat quietly, saying little at their meal but listening while he talked.
"I don't bore you?" he had asked.
"No, I like to hear about your work. I don't always understand what you are saying but I can always look it up later on."
He had laughed then. "I really must arrange for you to come to the hospital." He was kind and considerate to her. He had effortless good manners even when he was absorbed in his work, asking her how she had spent her day, suggesting things they might do together when he was free. Well, he's free now, she reflected as they drove through London, through its suburbs, and on to the Bishop's Stortford road.
The professor took the road to Saffron Walden from Bishops Stortford, and on reaching that small town turned into a narrow country road. He hadn't said much on their journey, but now he told her that they were only a mile or two from the village. "It's rather charming," he said. "Ashdon lies in a valley with its church on a hill above it. Our cottage is on the other side of the village-ten minutes' walk away. It isn't isolated, but our nearest neighbours are a couple of fields away. I hope you'll like it."
"I'm sure I shall." Araminta found the countryside charming. "Do you come here for your holidays as well as weekends?"
"The odd week, specially in the summer, but if you would prefer it we can go abroad."
"I've never been out of England," said Araminta cheerfully, "and I don't know much of it. I shall be quite happy going wherever you want to go."
"I go away fairly frequently," he observed. "Seminars, examining students-that kind of thing-and of course consultations, and to operate." He added, "On my own, of course."
"Of course," she agreed, and felt disquiet at the idea of his being in some foreign country surrounded by charming women. Would he have taken her with him, she wondered, if he had loved her? Only time would tell her that.
Ashdon was charming, with the Rose and Crown pub overlooking a stream. The houses were old, its few shops looked as though they had been there for a very long time, and at the end of the village, halfway to the church, Jason turned into a roughly surfaced lane, passed a house or two and then, after a short distance, came to a halt before a wide gate. He got out and opened it and drove through to stop the car before the cottage door. It was a solid door, rather narrow and low, with a porch and seats on either side of it. The dogs were uttering happy barks and he said, "Don't get out for a moment and I'll shut the gates-they always go a little mad when we get here."
Not surprising, thought Araminta; the cottage was charming. It was whitewashed and thatched, with a great many small windows, and, as far as she could see, the garden stretched on all sides. She was as impatient as the dogs to get out and look around, and she skipped out when Jason opened her door.
It was a splendid day and, although the wind was fresh and chilly, there were white clouds scudding across a blue sky. She took a deep breath and looked with pleasure at the flowerbeds crowded with daffodils, early tulips and great cushions of polyanthus.
"What a beautiful garden-Jason, it's lovely…"
He unlocked the cottage door. The dogs pushed and jostled to get in first, and she stood just inside the narrow hall and looked around her. There were doors on either side and another facing her which Jason opened, revealing a small kitchen. She peered over his shoulder and saw that it had a tiled floor, plastered walls and an old-fashioned white porcelain sink. There were red enamelled saucepans on a shelf and a small fridge beside a gas stove.
She nodded her neat head in approval. "It wouldn't be right to modernise it too much." She went past him to the door and opened it, anxious to see more of the garden.
There was a small, bedraggled cat on the step, almost skeletal in its thinness. It made no effort to run away but mewed soundlessly as she bent to pick it up. The dogs crowded round, and she tucked it securely in her arms and said urgently, "Jason…"
He had been turning on the gas, but something in her voice made him go to her. "Look," said Araminta, "she was on the doorstep-she's starving and I think she's going to have kittens. Oh, Jason…"
He took the little beast and laid it gently on the table.
"There should be milk in the fridge-can you warm a little?" He was examining the pathetic bundle with careful hands. When she brought the milk, he said, "I don't think there's anything broken or damaged. She's certainly starved. Will you give her the milk, just a little at a time, while I find a box and papers? She's very cold. I'll light the fire in the sitting-room and we can keep an eye on her."
"Goldie and Neptune?"
"They'll not harm her." He went away and came back presently with a box lined with newspaper. The cat had taken the milk eagerly, and he lifted her into the box and left it on the table.
"She needs more food," said Araminta. "Shall I give her more milk?"
"Yes, and see if there's anything in the cupboard-tinned milk? just a little."
Araminta went to look; the cupboard was well-stocked. "There's a tin of sago."
"Splendid. Will you warm it while I bring in the bags and see to the dogs?"
Half an hour later, as they sat with the cat before the fire and the dogs on either side of the box and mugs of instant coffee in their hands, the professor observed, "Rather a disrupted start to our weekend, I'm afraid."
"I'm glad we came and I hope she'll be all right. How lucky you were here." At his questioning look, she added, "You knew what to do…"
He didn't answer her but said presently, "I expect you would like to look round the cottage-Mrs. Lott keeps it clean and the cupboard stocked."
The sitting-room was small, with a couple of armchairs, a table or two, an alcove with its shelves lined with books, and a corner cupboard. There were several watercolours on its cream-painted walls, and the open fire. A cosy place, thought Araminta, getting up and following him from room to room. The other one held a round table with straight-backed rush-bottomed chairs, a sideboard and a smaller table under the lattice windows. Jason opened a door beside the fireplace and mounted the narrow twisting stairs, and Araminta, quite enchanted, skipped up behind him. There were two rooms leading off a tiny landing with a bathroom between. Both were simply furnished, but the curtains and coverlets were chintz and the rugs on the polished floors were pale and silky. Someone had furnished the little place with great care, and surely Jason wouldn't have known how to choose the pretty lampshades and the wall-sconces in every room? A woman's touch, thought Araminta, and I wonder whose. She asked guilelessly, "I expect you have your friends to stay? It must be qui
te beautiful in the summer."
The professor, who had put his spectacles on so that he might examine the books on one of the bedside tables, took them off to look at her. After a moment he said blandly, "From time to time," and watched her cheeks grow pink. She looked pretty, and for some reason he found that disturbing. "I think you may prefer this room," he added. "There's a marvellous view. Shall we go down and see how our visitor is getting on?"
The cat was asleep; she looked pathetic but the professor pronounced her to be better. "A week's good food and cosseting and she'll be splendid."
"We can keep her?"
"Of course, isn't that what you want?"
"Yes, oh yes. Oh, Jason…' Araminta went bright red, mumbled about lunch and fled to the kitchen. She wasn't sure what she had been about to say, but whatever it was would have been disastrous; she would have to pull herself together. She began to poke around the cupboards and presently looked out of the window and saw him walking down the garden with a spade and the two dogs. She stared at his enormous back; wearing a sweater and wellies, he looked years younger. "I must stop drooling," Araminta told herself. "If he wants a companion and a friend, he has me; if he'd wanted to fall in love he'd have chosen someone like Vicky."
So over the entire weekend she maintained a determinedly friendly manner which, while it might have concealed her true feelings, caused an awkwardness which the professor was quick to notice and wonder about. He had to admit to himself that in the short time in which he had known her she had become a part of his life which was becoming increasingly important to him, but he was aware that she was keeping him at arm's length. They were still on excellent terms; they tended the cat together, dug the garden, went walking with the dogs and went.
to church on Sunday morning, but Araminta had retreated and he couldn't think why.
As they drove back on Sunday evening, the dogs on either side of the cat's basket on the back seat, he asked casually, "You enjoyed our weekend? You are quite happy, Araminta?"
