by Betty Neels
She finished her coffee and got out her list. Well, she wasn’t beaten yet and she would change her tactics…
Having money yourself to spend was a great help; she chose greens and browns and rich tawny shades—tweed suits beautifully cut, cashmere sweaters, silk blouses, an armful of fine wool and silk dresses and three evening gowns, all very much in the fashion. Six months ago she wouldn’t have dreamed of even trying them on even if she had had the money. There was plenty of money still, she found shoes which cost the earth, leather handbags and belts, gloves and undies and, true to her promise, a splendidly dressed doll for Eleanor and a mohair stole for Miss Timmis. She had shopped steadily without stopping for lunch and she was finished by three o’clock. She arranged to collect her parcels presently and went in search of a tea room. She wasn’t hungry but a pot of tea was what she needed. She would find somewhere quiet and sit for half an hour, her train didn’t go until five o’clock so there was time enough. There was a tea room across the street; she had a foot off the kerb when she saw Gideon and a tall, handsome young woman crossing towards her. She had time to compose her features into a casual smile which almost killed her before they came face to face. Gideon’s face was a blank mask. He stopped and the young woman stopped too. ‘Deborah…’
She managed a beam. ‘Hullo—can’t stop—I’ve a train to catch.’ She switched the beam on to the girl and nipped across the street, dying to look back, but instead she went to the tea room and resolutely took a table well away from the window. She sat there drinking cup after cup of tea until she felt better and then went back and collected her packages, got into a taxi and caught her train in comfort, sitting alone surrounded by all the clothes she had bought. They won’t be a waste, she told herself fiercely, they’ll help, I know they will. They’d better; the girl had been lovely and her clothes quite something. Deborah, her green eyes glowing, marshalled her new outfits in a mental parade like soldiers going into battle and when she had done that to her satisfaction made a note to call the hairdresser in the morning.
Buckle was waiting for her; he loaded her mass of boxes and packages into the car, expressed the hope that she had had a good day, and drove her home. ‘The professor phoned just before I came away, Madam, wanted to know if you were back and said he’d try and ring again later.’
She received the news with mixed feelings; if he was going to try and explain over the phone then she wasn’t going to listen, on the other hand if she didn’t answer when he rang he might think that she was annoyed. Annoyed—she was so angry that she could have burst into flames.
She doused her temper for Eleanor and Miss Timmis’s sake; they seemed so glad to see her and so happy with the presents she had brought them. They had supper together and then Deborah undid her boxes and tried everything on before an admiring audience. She was twirling round and round in the finest of her evening gowns when Buckle came to tell her that the professor was on the phone and she went to the extension by the bed. Strangely, she felt quite light hearted, largely because the dress she was wearing had turned her from an ugly duckling into a swan. As Miss Timmis had remarked primly, it was a ravishing dress, even if rather revealing. ‘Although as you are a married lady, an exposed bosom is quite allowable,’ she had observed.
Deborah perched on the side of the bed with a great rustle of wide skirts. ‘Hullo there,’ she greeted him and allowed her gaze to sweep over the lovely things spilling over the chairs and bed.
Gideon’s voice sounded so cool that she shivered. ‘Deborah? I shall be home tomorrow at about six o’clock, Dr and Mrs Wallis and Barbara Inge will be with me, John and Joyce Morris will be arriving half an hour later. We could perhaps dine at eight o’clock. Eleanor had better be ready for bed and I expect Miss Timmis to join us.’
She said airily: ‘Okay, Gideon. Eleanor’s here, she wants to say good-night.’
‘You enjoyed your day?’
‘I had a marvellous time, here’s Eleanor.’
Deborah was dressed and ready for Gideon and their guests by half-past five. She had spent the day making sure that everything was just so, taken the dogs for a walk so that they wouldn’t bother Gideon the moment he came in, and now, dressed in a green crepe dress the exact colour of her eyes, she was sitting in an upright chair, terrified of disarranging the artlessly simple style the hairdresser had created with her sandy hair. Eleanor was with Miss Timmis, getting into her blue velvet dress under that lady’s eye, for Deborah had decided that even if the child couldn’t stay up for dinner, there was no reason why she shouldn’t be downstairs to greet her father, besides that would give Miss Timmis time to get into the navy blue dress.
Eleanor came into the room presently, her fair hair beautifully brushed, her small face beaming with excitement. She walked all round Deborah taking in every exact detail and finally pronounced her to be utterly super.
‘Thank you, darling, and remember when I say so, go upstairs, have your supper and get ready for bed. I’ll pop up to say goodnight. Dinner’s not till eight o’clock, so I can nip along while everyone is in their rooms.’
Eleanor asked wistfully: ‘Do you think Daddy will come too? He always does when he is at home.’
‘Then he’ll come this evening.’
‘I like it better when there’s just you and Daddy and me, and Miss Timmis, of course.’
‘Yes, love, but Daddy has to entertain his friends and they won’t be coming very often at the weekends.’
It was a little after the hour when the Bentley swept up to the door closely followed by a Mercedes. Deborah went into the hall with Eleanor just as Buckle opened the door, she would have much preferred to have run upstairs and shut herself in the fastness of her room, as it was she went forward looking, she devoutly hoped, welcoming. Gideon had stood aside to usher the others in and when he did turn round she was pleased to see the look of astonishment on his face, it was only there for a moment, but it satisfied her; the wildly expensive dress and the hair do had served their purpose. He had really looked at her, he had discovered, she was sure, that she wasn’t ‘Nanny’ any more.
She said in her pleasant voice: ‘Hullo, Gideon, did you have a good journey down?’ She smiled at him and then at the others.
He crossed the hall and bent to kiss her cheek. For the sake of appearances, she told herself silently as he introduced Dr and Mrs Wallis and then John and Joyce Morris who had come with him after all. ‘And this is Barbara Inge—an old friend, just back from America.’
‘And utterly devastated to find Gideon married,’ said that young lady. ‘You see what happens the moment my back is turned?’ She looked at everyone, gathering laughs. ‘I never was more surprised…’ She kissed the air an inch from Deborah’s cheek. ‘He’s quite a handful, my dear, but I daresay you’ll cope.’
Deborah said sweetly: ‘I shall do my best. It’s delightful to meet his friends. Do please come in, I expect you would like a drink before going to your rooms?’
Eleanor was talking to Gideon and she led the way to the drawing room as Buckle took coats and hats, and Gideon followed with Eleanor. And from then on a kind of magic mantle fell on Deborah; she had been terrified of entertaining Gideon’s friends because she knew nothing about them, come to that, she didn’t know much about him, either. But a kind of recklessness had seized her and that, coupled with the knowledge that she really looked rather nice, had the effect of turning her into the perfect hostess, laughing and chatting and what was better, listening more than talking, so that the two men, finding her such a good listener, would have monpolised her if she had allowed it. But she won over their wives just as easily, while Eleanor kept close to her, sipping her lemonade and every now and then tucking a hand into Deborah’s. Of course, that left Gideon with Barbara which in a way was very satisfactory, for Barbara was a young woman who liked an audience and the only person attending to her was Gideon, while Deborah, stealing a look at him from time to time, thought that he was bored.
Eleanor said her goodnights presently and af
ter a while everyone went to their rooms leaving Deborah and Gideon together. She sat herself down by the fire.
‘I’d love another sherry before you go,’ she told him.
‘I like your friends, Gideon, are they all as nice?’
He brought her the sherry and stood looking down at her. ‘I believe so. You look different, Deborah.’
She said kindly, ‘I’m still me, only without the cap and apron.’ And then, because he looked suddenly ferocious. ‘I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me.’
‘That is a very silly remark, you must know that you look delightful and that Ben Wallis and John are falling over themselves to get at you. I feel as though I’ve married a quite different girl…’
‘Don’t you like me?’
He said silkily: ‘Oh, indeed I do—I am enchanted—but it would hardly do for me to behave like John and Ben, would it. I am—surprised…’
‘I am a bit surprised myself, I mean, feeling quite different just because I’m wearing a model dress and have had my hair done differently. But I’m still me.’
She finished her sherry and he took the glass from her and drew her to her feet. ‘I think that there is a lot more to you than I imagined,’ he observed slowly, ‘and I don’t mean new dresses and elaborate hairstyles.’
He bent suddenly and kissed her, but this time it wasn’t a light peck on her cheek. ‘I’m going to change.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE WEEKEND was a success, indeed Miss Timmis pronounced it a social triumph for Deborah; nothing had gone wrong—the food had been above reproach, the weather had been fine for the time of year, so that everyone could get out of doors and for those who were disinclined to do that, there were cheerful fires, plenty of books to read and of course, the TV. Deborah playing her part, avoided Gideon as much as possible, electing to stay at home with Joyce Morris when everyone else went walking on Saturday morning and then offering to show Ben and Mary Wallis the church after lunch. ‘And I’ll take Eleanor with us,’ she said cheerfully to Gideon, ‘then if you want to play bridge you won’t be interrupted.’
This had been naughty of her; Gideon loathed bridge. When she got back rosy cheeked from the cold, a Gucci scarf exactly matching her beautifully cut tweeds tied under her chin, she sensed a distinct atmosphere at the card table. Gideon looked impassive, the Morrises tolerantly amused and Barbara Inge furious. She turned towards them as they trooped in and said peevishly: ‘There you are—I hope you had a better time than I have—Gideon doesn’t even bother to play…’ She flung the cards down and went over to the fire.
‘It’s cold and lovely outside,’ said Deborah lightly: ‘We enjoyed it. Just give us time to take our outdoor things off and we’ll have tea.’
Sitting behind the teapot presently, Deborah looked around her: The Wallises were enjoying themselves, so were the Morrises, tucking into buttered muffins and one of Mrs Buckle’s fruit cakes, so was Eleanor with Miss Timmis sitting beside her. She had personally settled them there so that it was left to Gideon to sit with Lady Barbara.
That evening, after an excellent dinner, she had suggested dancing in the drawing room and the lovely silk rugs had been rolled aside while she selected a few tapes. She was sure that Gideon hadn’t wanted to dance, but he had agreed pleasantly enough, filling glasses and joining in the light hearted talk and when she had switched on the tape she had excused herself, explaining that she wanted to say goodnight to Eleanor. Gideon opened the door for her and then went straight across the room to Joyce Morris and started to dance. Deborah, out of the corner of her eye, saw Barbara’s cross face, and felt a pleasantly wicked wave of pleasure at the sight.
Everyone left after lunch on Sunday and Gideon had taken Eleanor and the dogs for a walk, suggesting smoothly that Deborah might like to rest. A remark she took instant exception to, although Miss Timmis, going thankfully to her room to put her feet up, remarked upon her employer’s thoughtfulness. Left to herself Deborah mooned around the house, picking up the Sunday papers and putting them down again, moving vases of flowers from here to there and back again, finally putting on her old mac and the thick shoes she kept for pottering about in the garden, she let herself out of the back door. She wandered round for a bit and finally took herself off to the shed where Willy the gardener stored the apples. It was cold but fragrant inside, she perched on a pile of old sacks and selected one of his best Cox and bit into it. The weekend had been a success, she felt sure, but Gideon hadn’t said a word and yet he had appeared to have enjoyed himself. They had all gone to the village church that morning and she had sat with Eleanor between them in the family pew, and he had smiled at her several times during the service. Probably for the benefit of the congregation, she thought sourly, biting into another of Willy’s apples.
She was roused from her thoughts by Gideon’s voice on the other side of the house and a moment later all three dogs had hurled the shed door open and were scrambling all over her, just as though she had been away for years.
She felt quite guilty when Gideon and Eleanor poked their heads round the door to look at her. She nibbled the last of the apple core and got up.
‘Did you have a pleasant walk?’
‘Lovely. Deborah, Daddy says you’re a super hostess and there’s no reason why we shouldn’t have people staying each weekend, only we are not going to because he likes peace and quiet.’ Eleanor came close to Deborah and put an arm round her neck. ‘I do too, just us. May we play Scrabble after tea?’
‘If your father would like that…’
‘Her father will be delighted, it will make a nice change from bridge.’
‘Oh, well yes. Though I should have thought that you would have liked that—I mean you have to be clever to play, don’t you?’
He said silkily: ‘There are a great many games one can play where cleverness doesn’t count, only low cunning and guile.’
She had the grace to blush and jumped to her feet. ‘Let’s go indoors and have tea. The Buckles have the afternoon off so I’ll get it.’
In the hall Gideon said: ‘Eleanor, will you go and ask Miss Timmis if she would like tea in her room— I’m sure she would like a good rest.’ And when the child had skipped upstairs: ‘I’ll give you a hand with the tea things.’
‘Please don’t bother, Buckle will have left everything ready.’
She need not have spoken for he took no notice but followed her along the stone passage to the large, cosy room with its scrubbed table and old fashioned dresser and the kettle simmering on the Aga. The tray was indeed ready but he made no effort to carry it away, instead he sat on the edge of the table and watched Deborah warm the pot and put the muffins to toast.
He leaned across and cut himself a slice of cake. ‘A very successful weekend,’ he observed, ‘we must find time to do it again one day. We can, of course, have Barbara down on her own…’
Deborah, measuring tea into the pot, spilt some of it on to the table. ‘Is—is she a great friend of yours?’
‘No, but from your behaviour I can only assume that you wish her to be just that.’
She fetched the kettle and made the tea. ‘I don’t know what you mean…’
He took the kettle from her and put it back on the stove. ‘Now, now, Debby, I’m sure that you have always impressed upon your little charges the necessity for speaking the truth; you should practice what you preach.’
She turned on him. ‘How very unfair, and here have I been leaning over backwards, being understanding and tolerant—and not m-minding…’
She stopped just in time, indeed, she had said too much and she could have bitten off her tongue with chagrin. She said airily, not looking at him: ‘I think Barbara is very lovely and very witty—she made you laugh a great deal—well she made us all laugh—she’s great fun.’
She glanced at him and although he looked poker faced, she was sure that he was amused about something. ‘Well, we must have her as a frequent guest, mustn’t we, Deborah, since you would like that?’
‘I never said…’ she began and interrupted herself to see to the muffins. It seemed prudent not to add to that; she busied herself with them, and then leading the way went to the drawing room where Eleanor was stretched on the rug before the fire, with the dogs leaning against her.
She jumped up as they went in. ‘Miss Timmis said she’d love to have her tea upstairs but that she’d come down to collect it.’
‘Run and fetch a tray love, and we’ll get it ready for her and I’ll take it up.’ Deborah started to cut cake. ‘I’ll make a little pot of tea for her.’
Miss Timmis was almost embarrassingly grateful. ‘Really, Mrs Beaufort, you shouldn’t—I could have got tea for myself. I must say it’s very pleasant sitting here with a book.’
‘Visitors are fine, but tiring,’ observed Deborah. ‘We’re going to loll round the fire and Eleanor’s to stay up for dinner, so don’t bother with anything until you hear the gong.’
Tea round the fire was a cheerful meal and if Deborah was a little quiet it passed unnoticed in Eleanor’s happy chatter, and afterwards they played Scrabble until Deborah heard the Buckles’ elderly Morris 1000 chug round the house and excused herself with the plea that she must go to the kitchen and make sure that everything was as it should be for the evening. She bore Eleanor upstairs presently to tidy herself for dinner and went to her own room to do her hair once more and add a little more make-up. She felt sick at the very idea of Barbara becoming a frequent visitor, that had been her own silly fault, too; she hadn’t started off with such high ideals…
She called to Eleanor and went downstairs, to sit opposite Gideon, sipping her sherry, carrying on an empty conversation until Miss Timmis joined them, and the talk, centering round her forthcoming visit to her sister, became easier.
It surprised Deborah very much when Gideon stayed at home for the next two days, he worked in his study, writing a great deal and spending a lot of time telephoning so that they saw very little of him. All the same, it was nice to have him in the house, and at the end of the second day, he drove Miss Timmis to Salisbury to catch her train and when he got home, came straight to the drawing room where he showed Eleanor the rudiments of chess until Deborah carried her off for supper and bed. He was still there when she got back and laid himself out to be a charming companion for the rest of that evening. Deborah, in another new dress, aware that she looked her best, felt her hopes rising; he hadn’t mentioned having weekend visitors, perhaps he found her a satisfying companion after all.
