Matilda's Wedding

by Betty Neels

  The congregation was quite large and she saw that her mother and father were sitting in one of the front pews with Mrs Milton, but her plan to slip into a pew at the back of the church was frustrated by her mother who had turned round and seen her. When she reached the pew she saw the doctor and his guests sitting on the opposite side of the aisle just behind them. She had only a glimpse as she went past but it was enough to see that the girl with him was the picture of elegance…

  Matilda reminded herself that she was in church as she said her prayers and sang the hymns and listened to the sermon, but once the service was over and they were outside in the churchyard, meeting various people kind Mrs Milton was introducing to her mother and father, she allowed her thoughts to dwell on the doctor and his companions, standing close by, talking to Lady Truscott. She edged away from them and took shelter behind Mrs Milton, only to find the two groups merging.

  Mrs Milton said, ‘Of course you’ve met Mr and Mrs Paige, haven’t you? And Matilda works for you.’

  She looked enquiringly at him and he said easily, ‘Two friends of mine, spending the weekend: Lucilla Armstrong and her brother Guy.’

  He turned to look at them. ‘Mrs Milton, the vicar’s wife, and the Reverend Mr Paige and Mrs Paige—and their daughter, Matilda.’

  Lucilla acknowledged the introductions with a cool nod. ‘We saw you yesterday.’ Her eyes roamed over Matilda’s person. ‘I wondered who you were.’

  Matilda said in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘I’d been to do the shopping. I’m surprised that you remembered me. I must have looked quaint laden down with plastic bags.’ She smiled sweetly and the doctor choked back a laugh. Miss Matilda Paige had revealed an unexpected side of her nature—or was he mistaken? Had her remark been as guileless as her ordinary face?

  There was polite talk for a few more minutes before Mrs Milton said, ‘We mustn’t stand around too long. I’m going to drive Mr and Mrs Paige back home—and you too, of course, Matilda.’ She smiled at the circle of faces around her.

  ‘I hope you have a pleasant weekend here. I’m sure it’s good for Henry to relax from his work.’

  Henry, thought Matilda, taking care not to look at him. A nice old-fashioned English name. She looked at his other guest instead. Guy Armstrong was good-looking, she conceded, but he had a weak chin and he laughed too much; besides, by the time he was forty he would be fat…

  She added her polite goodbyes to everyone else’s and got into Mrs Milton’s car, sitting in the back with her father because her mother wanted to ask about some extra committee Mrs Milton had suggested that she might like to join.

  And back home over lunch, while her mother talked animatedly of the people she had met at church and the prospect of a social life even if limited to the village, Matilda had ample free time to think about Dr Lovell. She thought about Lucilla, too, who would be an ideal wife for him. She was not as young as Matilda had first thought—indeed, Lucilla must be edging very close to thirty—but she was so beautifully cared for that no man would believe that… And, of course, her lovely clothes helped.

  I’m jealous, thought Matilda, but I can’t help that. I should be glad that he has found someone who will make him happy.

  She went to the kitchen to wash up, while her mother, still happily making plans, went with her father to the sitting room.

  ‘Perhaps I should find another job.’ Matilda addressed Rastus, who gave her a considering look before tucking into his dinner. ‘But if I did I’d not see him, would I? And I couldn’t bear that. Of course when they marry she will get me the sack. She doesn’t like me, which is silly, for I’m hardly a rival, am I?’

  Rastus, nicely full, sat and stared at her. ‘You’re not much help, are you?” said Matilda.

  It was pouring with rain on Monday morning. Matilda, wringing herself dry before she opened the surgery door, mopped her face and tugged her wet hair back into a semblance of tidiness and, still a bit damp, got out the notes for the morning’s patients. She then opened the door, casting a quick look round the waiting room as she did so. It was spotlessly clean and the chrysanthemums she had brought from the garden made a cheerful spot of colour beside the tidy pile of magazines on the table; the place was nicely warm too.

  The first patients arrived, shedding wet macs, umbrellas and leaving muddy marks on the floor, and punctually at eight o’clock the doctor opened his door and requested the first patient.

  By the time the last patient had left it was well past ten o’clock. Matilda started to tidy the place, lock away the notes, rearrange the magazines and collect up forgotten gloves, a scarf or two and a child’s plastic toy, and, tucked away in a corner, a shopping bag of groceries. She would take it over to Mrs Simpkins’ shop since the surgery door would be locked…

  The door opened and the doctor stood looking at her.

  ‘You had better have a cup of coffee before you go,’ he said briskly.

  Matilda put the shopping bag on the table. ‘Thank you, Doctor, but I’d rather not stop.’

  ‘You mustn’t allow hurt pride to interfere with common sense,’ he observed. ‘Far be it from me to send you out into this weather without so much as a warm drink inside you.’

  ‘Hurt pride?’ said Matilda, and then added, ‘Oh, the first morning when you told me not to watch the clock. Oh, that’s all right; I’m not one to bear a grudge!’

  She smiled and went past him into the surgery where the coffee tray stood on his desk.

  ‘You are happy working here?’ asked Dr Lovell, taking his coffee and offering her a biscuit from the tin.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘It is rather a quiet life for you,’ went on the doctor. ‘Miss Armstrong wondered if you found life here dull.’

  ‘How kind of her to concern herself about me,’ said Matilda in a quiet voice which gave away none of the powerful rage engulfing her. The interfering busybody… A first step towards getting her the sack.

  ‘She pointed out that you are very young for such a dull job. Of course Miss Brimble was elderly.’

  ‘As long as you are satisfied with my work,’ said Matilda, ‘I wish to stay here. And if I stay long enough I’ll be elderly like Miss Brimble! Won’t I?’

  She put down her coffee cup. ‘Is there anything you would like me to do before I go?’

  ‘No, I think not.’

  ‘Thank you for the coffee. I’ll be here this evening.’

  She skipped through the door, locked up and went out into the rain, crossing the road to the shop.

  ‘Someone left their groceries at the surgery,’ she told Mrs Simpkins. ‘Shall I leave the bag here? Or if you know who the owner is I could take it.’

  ‘Bless you, miss; that’s a kind thought. It’s old Mrs Harding’s weekly shopping. Lives just down the street, number fourteen on the other side. She’s that forgetful. If it’s not troubling you…’

  Mrs Simpkins leaned comfortably across the counter. ‘Saw you in church,’ she said. ‘Very nice you looked, too—a sight better than that madam with our doctor. Mrs Inch— ’is ’ousekeeper, you know—told me she acted like she was in an ’otel. Can’t think what ’e sees in ’er.’

  ‘She’s quite beautiful,’ said Matilda. ‘I’ll have a piece of tasty cheese, Mrs Simpkins, and some of those dry cheese biscuits.’

  Mrs Simpkins reached for the cheese. ‘Bin inside ’is ’ouse? Lovely, so I’m told—furniture ’anded down from way back in the family. Bin in the village for years and years. ’E don’t need to earn ’is living, of course; plenty of family money as you might say. A fine catch for that Miss Armstrong.’

  She reached up for a packet of biscuits. ‘I hear your mum’s going to Lady Truscott’s for the charity committee meeting. Don’t see much of ’er in the village, though. Poorly, is she, like your dad?’

  ‘No, no, Mother’s very well, but you know how it is when you move house. But we’ve settled in nicely and my father is so much better now that he has retired.’

  Matilda said
goodbye, and left to deliver the shopping bag, then hurry home in the rain. Mrs Simpkins, watching her go, thought what a dull life she must lead with two elderly parents and no young man.

  Another week went by and another pay day, and even after bolstering up the housekeeping purse and paying the small outstanding debts Matilda had some money. True, her mother had wheedled some of it for herself so that she might go to Taunton once again. She must look her best when she went to Lady Truscott’s, she’d pointed out; she would make do with the clothes she had but her hair must be trimmed and set and a few highlights added. Surely Matilda could understand that. ‘And really you have nothing to spend your money on, Matilda. There’s nothing to be done about your hair except bundle it up like you do, and you don’t need to look fashionable. No one sees you at the surgery and you’ve got that winter coat once it gets really cold.’

  All of which was perfectly true. Matilda said nothing for the simple reason that if she did she might say something she would regret afterwards.

  But on the following Tuesday, her day free until evening surgery, she took the local bus to Taunton. She hadn’t told her mother or father that she was going until she’d taken them their early morning tea.

  ‘That’s right, my dear,’ said her father. ‘You go and have a pleasant day. Have you sufficient money?’

  She kissed the top of his head. ‘Yes, thank you, Father.’

  There was no chance to say more for her mother had sat bolt upright in bed. ‘You’re going to Taunton? Why didn’t you tell me? I could have gone with you; I need several things. How thoughtless of you, Matilda—and why do you want to go?’

  ‘To shop,’ said Matilda, ‘and I must go now or I’ll miss the bus. I’ll be back before tea.’

  ‘I should feel mean, but I don’t,’ said Matilda to herself, hurrying down to the bus stop outside Mrs Simpkins’. There were several people there already, and the doctor, standing at his dining-room window, watched her join the little group. He thought idly that if he had known she had wanted to go to Taunton he would have given her a lift for he would be at the hospital for most of the day. He turned away and went to eat his breakfast.

  Matilda hadn’t much money but she knew what she wanted. The doctor only saw her during surgery hours, so it made sense to make herself as attractive as possible during that time. Well, not sense, actually, since he never looked at her, but even if she had no hope that he would like her that wasn’t going to stop her from doing something about her looks.

  Silly, really, thought Matilda, making for the shops.

  It would have to be Marks & Spencer; she hadn’t enough money for any of the smart boutiques. She would go there first, anyway…

  Maybe the doctor would never look at her; she would still find solace in the wearing of the grey jersey dress she found almost at once. It was suitably short but not too much so and it had a white collar and pretty buttons, and since it was jersey it wouldn’t crease.

  And there was some money left over—enough for a navy sweater to wear with her last year’s pleated skirt. She checked the money in her purse then, had a cup of coffee and a roll, and went in search of something tasty for supper, as well as the boiled sweets her father liked to suck while he worked and a tiny bottle of the perfume her mother liked.

  By then it was time to get the bus back to Much Winterlow.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE bus went from the castle buildings and Matilda had overlooked the fact that she had walked some distance from it. She hurried now; there was no other bus; it was a once-weekly event. Much Winterlow was far too isolated to merit more than that and how would she get back if she missed it? She broke into a run, much hampered by her parcels.

  Dr Lovell, driving himself home after a day at Trinity Hospital, caught sight of her as he turned the car into East Street from North Street. She was dancing with impatience, waiting for the lights to allow her to cross over to the bus depot, now tantalisingly close. He turned the car into the bus park and stopped by the bus. He opened his door and got out as she came galloping along.

  ‘Cut it rather fine, haven’t you?’ he asked, took her parcels from her and popped her into the car.

  Matilda, too breathless to speak, sat wordless as he drove back into the traffic and took the road home. Presently she said, ‘Thank you, Doctor,’ and then added, ‘I’ve been shopping…’

  ‘One tends to forget the time,’ he observed, and then he said nothing more. So she looked out of the window at the gathering dusk and wished that she could think of something interesting or witty to say.

  They were nearly at the village when he spoke again.

  ‘Surgery starts in just over an hour. I suggest that you have your tea at my place. You’re on the phone? I’ll ring your mother when we get there.’

  He added, ‘And don’t argue; it’s the sensible thing to do.’

  It was hardly an invitation, more like a command, but it was good sense, too. She would have no time to spare if she went home. She thanked him in a stiff manner and followed him into the house after he’d drawn up at his front door.

  The interior, she saw at a glance, bore out the charm of the exterior. The hall was square with panelled walls and a staircase with barley-sugar balusters rising from its centre to the gallery above. There was a long case clock and facing it a pair of cane-backed chairs flanking a side table upon which was a Staffordshire china bowl filled with autumn flowers.

  She would have liked to stand and stare but the doctor was urging her across the hall and Mrs Inch had come through the baize door at the back of the hall.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Inch, if we might have tea? It is too late for Miss Paige to go home before surgery.’

  ‘Give me a few minutes, Doctor, and I dare say Miss Paige would like to tidy herself.’

  Her long, rather solemn face gave the hint of a smile and she whisked Matilda down the hall and into a charming cloakroom, equipped with everything anyone could possibly want and two mirrors, one full-length, the other over the handbasin. Matilda took a quick look at her reflection and sighed, combed her hair and washed her hands and went back into the hall.

  The doctor, waiting for her, flung open a door. ‘In here, Miss Paige.’

  Very polite, thought Matilda, but not much warmth, and she walked into the room.

  It was light and airy by reason of the bay window overlooking the garden at the back of the house. There was an open door beside the window and she could see green lawns and flowerbeds, still colourful with autumn flowers and the last roses. And there was a dog racing around, a large, woolly-coated animal with a feathery tail.

  ‘Oh, you’ve got a dog…?’

  She went to the door and the doctor followed her.

  ‘Yes. Sam. You like dogs?’

  ‘Yes. Once we’re settled I’d like to have one.’

  ‘They’re good company. Come and have your tea.’

  She sat down near the log fire burning in the wide fireplace. Mrs Inch had put the tea tray on a low table and as he sat down in a winged armchair opposite her the doctor said, ‘I gave your mother a quick call to let her know you’re here. Will you pour out?’

  When she had passed him his cup and saucer he said, ‘You have had a pleasant time in Taunton?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ She had been brought up to make conversation and put the numerous visitors to her father’s house at their ease; so she embarked on a pleasant conversation now and the doctor, amused, encouraged her.

  While she talked she looked around her discreetly. It was a splendid room, she decided. There was a William and Mary tapestry settee which could have graced a museum, tripod tables with piecrust edges, a side table with marquetry decorations and a carved court cupboard. There were flowers and several comfortable chairs which blended in nicely with the antiques. The walls were covered in a cream striped wallpaper and hung with paintings, and there were silver wall-sconces. A lovely room but warm and lived in. When offered a second of Mrs Inch’s delicious scones, Matilda accepted
it. She was hungry and her lunch had been a meagre affair.

  The doctor, watching her eating a slice of sponge cake and, when pressed, a piece of shortbread, was surprised to feel a pang of concern. She was enjoying her tea with the pleasure of a hungry child offered an unexpected treat. And he had seen her glances around the room. He had long ago taken it for granted, but she, discovering its beauty for the first time, positively glowed with delight.

  It was almost time for surgery; Matilda bent to stroke Sam’s woolly head and got up. The doctor got up, too, and listened gravely to her thanks. He was quite disarmed by her. ‘I was hungry and it was a lovely tea, and I’m very grateful for the lift back.’

  He said kindly, ‘It was a pleasure to have company, Miss Paige.’ He opened the door, crossed the hall with her and opened the door leading to the surgery.

  There weren’t many patients and he left to go to one of the outlying farms the moment the last patient had gone, leaving her to lock up and then go home. When she got there, with supper to get, she found her mother was lying down with a headache.

  ‘Now you’re back I think I shall stay in bed and have something light on a tray.’ Mrs Paige added sharply, ‘You should have come straight home instead of having tea at Dr Lovell’s house. I suppose he felt he had to ask you out of politeness.’

  Matilda said merely, ‘It was a nice tea; besides, there wasn’t much time before the evening surgery.’

  ‘Well, what do you expect if you go off for the day?’ Mrs Paige eyed Matilda’s shopping bags. ‘You spent all your money, I suppose.’

  ‘Yes, Mother.’ There was no point in showing her mother what she had bought; it would be the wrong colour, or in poor taste or unfashionable… No one was likely to notice and by no one Matilda meant Dr Lovell. But she reminded herself she would enjoy wearing them.

  Whilst getting the supper, she pictured him, back home by now—she hoped—sitting by the fire with Sam at his feet, waiting for Mrs Inch to give him his supper. And, that over, he would return to the comfort of his fireside and read or watch the TV. She hoped he wouldn’t sit up too late; he had had a busy day…