Kitabı oku: «Rags To Riches Collection», sayfa 2

‘Now that would be kind of you. Will you let me know when you want me and how I’m to get to Holland? I’m going now; you’ll be late and Briskett will hate me.’

He laughed then. ‘Somehow I think not. I’ll be in touch.’

He went into the hall with her and Briskett was there, too.

‘Cutting it fine,’ he observed severely. He opened the door for Araminta. ‘Go carefully,’ he begged her.

Araminta got on a bus for Oxford Street, found a café and over a cup of coffee sorted out her thoughts. That she was doing something exactly opposite to her intentions was a fact which she bypassed for the moment. She had, with a few impulsive words, rearranged her future. A future about which she knew almost nothing, too.

Where exactly was she to go? How much would she be paid? What about free time? The language question? The doctor had mentioned none of these. Moreover, he had accepted her decision without surprise and in a casual manner which, when she thought about it, annoyed her. He should be suitably grateful that she had delayed her plans to accommodate his. She had another cup of coffee and a bun and thought about clothes.

She had a little money of her own. In theory she kept the small salary she had been getting at the convalescent home to spend as she wished, but in practice she used it to bolster up the housekeeping money her father gave her each month.

Neither he nor her mother were interested in how it was spent. The mundane things of life—gas bills, the plumber, the most economical cuts of meat—meant nothing to them; they lived in their own world of the Celts, who, to them at least, were far more important and interesting.

Now she must spend some of her savings on clothes. She wouldn’t need much: a jacket, which would stand up to rain, a skirt and one or two woollies, and shoes—the sensible pair she wore to the convalescent home were shabby. No need for a new dress; she wasn’t likely to go anywhere.

And her parents; someone would have to keep an eye on them if she were to go to Holland in a week’s time and if Aunt Millicent, the elderly cousin, was unable to come earlier than they had arranged. Mrs Snow in the village might oblige for a few days, with basic cooking and cleaning. Really, she thought vexedly, she could make no plans until she heard from Dr van der Breugh.

Her parents received her news with mild interest. Her mother nodded her head in a knowledgeable way and observed that both she and Araminta’s father knew what was best for her and she was bound to enjoy herself, as well as learn something of a foreign land, even if it was only a very small one like Holland. She added that she was sure that Araminta would arrange everything satisfactorily before she went. ‘You’ll like looking after the dear little boys.’

Araminta said that, yes, she expected she would. Probably they were as tiresome and grubby as all small boys, but she was fond of children and had no qualms about the job. She would have even less when she knew more about it.

A state of affairs which was put right the next morning, when she received a letter from Dr van der Breugh. It was a long letter, typed, and couched in businesslike language. She would be called for at her home on the following Sunday at eleven o’clock and would spend a few hours with her charges before travelling to Holland on the night ferry from Harwich. She would be good enough to carry a valid passport and anything she might require overnight. It was hoped that her luggage might be confined to no more than two suitcases.

She would have a day off each week, and every evening after eight o’clock, and such free time during the day as could be arranged. Her salary would be paid to her weekly in Dutch guldens… She paused here to do some arithmetic—she considered it a princely sum, which certainly sweetened the somewhat arbitrary tone of the letter. Although there was no reason why it should have been couched in friendlier terms; she scarcely knew the doctor and didn’t expect to see much of him while she was in Holland.

She told her mother that the arrangements for her new job seemed quite satisfactory, persuaded Mrs Snow to undertake the housekeeping until Aunt Millicent could come, and then sifted through her wardrobe. The jersey two-piece and the corn silk blouse, an equally sober skirt and an assortment of tops and a warmer woolly or two, a short wool jacket to go over everything and a perfectly plain dress in a soft blue crêpe; an adequate choice of clothes, she considered, adding a raincoat, plain slippers and undies.

She had good shoes and a leather handbag; gloves and stockings and a headscarf or two would fill the odd corners in the one case she intended taking. Her overnight bag would take the rest. She liked clothes, but working in the children’s convalescent home had called for sensible skirts and tops in sensible colours, and she had seldom had much of a social life. She was uneasily aware that her clothes were dull, but there was no time to change that, and anyway, she hadn’t much money. Perhaps she would get a new outfit in Holland…

The week went quickly. She cleaned and polished, washed and ironed, laid in a stock of food and got a room ready for Aunt Millicent. And she went into Henley and bought new shoes, low-heeled brown leather and expensive, and when she saw a pink angora sweater in a shop window she bought that too. She was in two minds about buying a new jacket, but caution took over then. She had already spent more money than she’d intended. Though caution wasn’t quite strong enough to prevent her buying a pretty silk blouse which would render the sober skirt less sober.

On Sunday morning she was ready and waiting by eleven o’clock—waiting with her parents who, despite their wish to get back to researching the Ancient Celts, had come into the hall to see her off. Cherub was there too, looking morose, and she stooped to give him a final hug; they would miss each other.

Exactly on the hour a car drew up outside and Briskett got out, wished them all good morning, stowed her case in the boot and held the rear car door open for her.

‘Oh, I’d rather sit in front with you,’ said Araminta, and she gave her parents a final kiss before getting into the car, waved them a cheerful goodbye and sat back beside Briskett. It was a comfortable car, a Jaguar, and she could see from the moment Briskett took the wheel that despite his unlikely looks they hid the soul of a born driver.

There wasn’t much traffic until they reached Henley and here Briskett took the road to Oxford.

‘Aren’t I to go to the London address?’ asked Araminta.

‘No, miss. The doctor thought it wise if you were to make the acquaintance of the boys at their home. They live with their parents at Oxford. The doctor will come for you and them later today and drive to Harwich for the night ferry.’

‘Oh, well, I expect that’s a good idea. Are you coming to Holland too?’

‘No, miss. I’ll stay to keep an eye on things here; the boss has adequate help in Holland. He’s for ever to-ing and fro-ing—having two homes, as it were.’

‘Then why can’t the two boys stay here in England?’

‘He’ll be in Holland for a few weeks, popping over here when he is needed. Much in demand, he is.’

‘We won’t be expected to pop over, too? Very unsettling for the little boys…’

‘Oh, no, miss. That’s why you’ve been engaged; he can come and go without being hampered, as you might say.’

The house he stopped before in Oxford was in a terrace of similar comfortably large houses, standing well back from the road. Araminta got out and stood beside Briskett in the massive porch waiting for someone to answer the bell. She was a self-contained girl, not given to sudden bursts of excitement, but she was feeling nervous now.

Supposing the boys disliked her on sight? It was possible. Or their parents might not like the look of her. After all, they knew nothing about her, and now that she came to think about it, nor did Dr van der Breugh. But she didn’t allow these uncertain feelings to show; the door was opened by a girl in a pinafore, looking harassed, and she and Briskett went into the hall.

‘Miss Pomfrey,’ said Briskett. ‘She’s expected.’

The girl nodded and led them across the hall and into a large room overlooking a garden at the back of the house. It was comfortably furnished, extremely untidy, and there were four people in it. The man and woman sitting in easy chairs with the Sunday papers strewn around them got up.

The woman was young and pretty, tall and slim, and well dressed in casual clothes. She came to meet Araminta as she hesitated by the door.

‘Miss Pomfrey, how nice of you to come all this way. We’re so grateful. I’m Lucy Ingram, Marcus’s sister—but of course you know that—and this is my husband, Jack.’

Araminta shook hands with her and then with Mr Ingram, a rather short stout man with a pleasant rugged face, while his wife spoke to Briskett, who left the room with a cheerful, ‘So long, miss, I’ll see you later.’

‘Such a reliable man, and so devoted to Marcus,’ said his sister. ‘Come and meet the boys.’

They were at the other end of the room, sitting at a small table doing a jigsaw puzzle, unnaturally and suspiciously quiet. They were identical twins which, reflected Araminta, wasn’t going to make things any easier, and they looked too good to be true.

‘Peter and Paul,’ said their mother. ‘If you look carefully you’ll see that Peter has a small scar over his right eye. He fell out of a tree years ago—it makes it easy to tell them apart.’

She beckoned them over and they came at once, two seemingly angelic children. Araminta wondered what kind of a bribe they had been offered to behave so beautifully. She shook their small hands in turn and smiled.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to help me to tell you apart, and you mustn’t mind if I muddle you up at first.’

‘I’m Peter. What’s your name—not Miss Pomfrey, your real name?’

‘Araminta.’

The boys looked at each other. ‘That’s a long name.’

They cast their mother a quick look. ‘We’ll call you Mintie.’

‘That’s not very polite,’ began Mrs Ingram.

‘If you’ve no objection, I think it’s a nice idea. I don’t feel a bit like Miss Pomfrey…’

‘Well, if you don’t mind—go and have your milk, boys, while we have our coffee and then you can show Miss…Mintie your room and get to know each other a bit.’

They went away obediently, eyeing her as they went, and Araminta was led to a sofa and given coffee while she listened to Mrs Ingram’s friendly chatter. From time to time her husband spoke, asking her quietly about her work at the children’s home and if she had ever been to Holland before.

‘The boys,’ he told her forthrightly, ‘can be little demons, but I dare say you are quite used to that. On the whole they’re decent kids, and they dote on their uncle.’

Araminta, considering this remark, thought that probably it would be quite easy to dote on him, although, considering the terseness of his letter to her, not very rewarding. She would have liked to get to know him, but common sense told her that that was unlikely. Besides, once she was back in England again, he would be consigned to an easily forgotten past and she would have embarked on her nursing career…

She dismissed her thoughts and listened carefully to Mrs Ingram’s instructions about the boys’ clothing and meals.

‘I’m telling you all these silly little details,’ explained Mrs Ingram, ‘because Marcus won’t want to be bothered with them.’ She looked anxious. ‘I hope you won’t find it too much…’

Araminta made haste to assure her that that was unlikely. ‘At the children’s home we had about forty children, and I’m used to them—two little boys will be delightful. They don’t mind going to Holland?’

‘No. I expect they’ll miss us for a few days, but they’ve been to their uncle’s home before, so they won’t feel strange.’

Mrs Ingram began to ask carefully polite questions about Araminta and she answered them readily. If she had been Mrs Ingram she would have done the same, however well recommended she might be. Dr van der Breugh had engaged her on Dr Jenkell’s advice, which was very trusting of him. Certainly he hadn’t bothered with delving into her personal background.

They had lunch presently and she was pleased to see that the boys behaved nicely at the table and weren’t finicky about their food. All the same, she wondered if these angelic manners would last. If they were normal little boys they wouldn’t…

The rest of the day she spent with them, being shown their toys and taken into the garden to look at the goldfish in the small pond there, and their behaviour was almost too good to be true. There would be a reason for it, she felt sure; time enough to discover that during the new few weeks.

They answered her questions politely but she took care not to ask too many. To them she was a stranger, and she would have to earn their trust and friendship.

They went indoors presently and found Dr van der Breugh in the drawing room with their father and mother. There was no doubt that they were fond of him and that he returned the affection. Emerging from their boisterous greeting, he looked across at Araminta and bade her good afternoon.

‘We shall be leaving directly after tea, Miss Pomfrey. My sister won’t mind if you wish to phone your mother.’

‘Thank you, I should like to do that…’

‘She’s not Miss Pomfrey,’ said Peter. ‘She’s Mintie.’

‘Indeed?’ He looked amused. ‘You have rechristened her?’

‘Well, of course we have, Uncle. Miss Pomfrey isn’t her, is it? Miss Pomfrey would be tall and thin, with a sharp nose and a wart and tell us not to get dirty. Mintie’s nice; she’s not pretty, but she smiles…’

Araminta had gone a bright pink and his mother said hastily, ‘Hush, dear. Miss Pomfrey, come with me and I’ll show you where you can phone.’

Leading Araminta across the hall, she said apologetically, ‘I do apologise. Peter didn’t mean to be rude—indeed, I believe he was paying you a compliment.’

Araminta laughed. ‘Well, I’m glad they think of me as Mintie, and not some tiresome woman with a wart. I hope we’re going to like each other.’

The boys had been taken upstairs to have their hands washed and the two men were alone.

‘Good of you to have the boys,’ said Mr Ingram. ‘Lucy was getting in a bit of a fret. And this treasure you’ve found for them seems just like an answer to a prayer. Quiet little thing and, as Peter observed, not pretty, but a nice calm voice. I fancy she’ll do. Know much about her?’

‘Almost nothing. Old Jenkell told me of her; he’s known her almost all her life. He told me that she was entirely trustworthy, patient and kind. They loved her at the children’s home. She didn’t want to come—she was to start her training as a nurse in a week or so—but she changed her mind after refusing the job. I don’t know why. I’ve said I’ll help her to get into the next batch of students when we get back.’

The doctor wandered over to the windows. ‘You’ll miss your garden.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘I’ll keep an eye on the boys, Jack. As you say, I think we have found a treasure in Miss Pomfrey. A nice, unassuming girl who won’t intrude. Which suits me very well.’

Tea was a proper meal, taken at the table since the boys ate with them, but no time was wasted on it. Farewells were said, the boys were settled by their uncle in the back seat of his Bentley, and Araminta got into the front of the car, composed and very neat. The doctor, turning to ask her if she was comfortable, allowed himself a feeling of satisfaction. She was indeed unassuming, both in manner and appearance.

CHAPTER TWO

ARAMINTA, happily unaware of the doctor’s opinion of her, settled back in the comfort of the big car, but she was aware of his voice keeping up a steady flow of talk with his little nephews. He sounded cheerful, and from the occasional words she could hear he was talking about sailing. Would she be expected to take part in this sport? she wondered. She hoped not, but, being a sensible girl, she didn’t allow the prospect to worry her. Whatever hazards lay ahead they would be for a mere six weeks or so. The salary was generous and she was enjoying her freedom. She felt guilty about that, although she knew that her parents would be perfectly happy with Aunt Millicent.

The doctor drove through Maidenhead and on to Slough and then, to her surprise, instead of taking the ring road to the north of London, he drove to his house.

Araminta, who hadn’t seen Briskett leave the Ingrams’, was surprised to see him open the door to them.

‘Right on time,’ he observed. ‘Not been travelling over the limit, I hope, sir. You lads wait there while I see to Miss Pomfrey. There’s a couple of phone calls for you, Doc.’

He led Araminta to the cloakroom at the back of the hall. ‘You tidy yourself, miss; I’ll see to the boys. There’s coffee ready in the drawing room.’

Araminta, not in the least untidy, nonetheless did as she was bid. Briskett, for all his free and easy ways, was a gem. He would be a handy man in a crisis.

When she went back into the hall he was there, waiting to usher her into the drawing room. The doctor was already there, leaning over a sofa table with the boys, studying a map. He straightened up as she went in and offered her a chair and asked her to pour their coffee. There was milk for the boys as well as a plate of biscuits and a dish of sausage rolls, which Peter and Paul demolished.

They were excited now, their sadness at leaving their mother and father already fading before the prospect of going to bed on board the ferry. Presently the doctor excused himself with the plea that there were phone calls he must make and Araminta set to work to calm them down, something at which she was adept. By the time their uncle came back they were sitting quietly beside her, listening to her telling them a story.

He paused in the doorway. ‘I think it might be a good idea if you sat in the back with the boys in the car, Miss Pomfrey…’

‘Mintie,’ said Peter. ‘Uncle Marcus, she’s Mintie.’

‘Mintie,’ said the doctor gravely. ‘If Miss Pomfrey does not object?’

‘Not a bit,’ said Araminta cheerfully.

They left shortly after that, crossing London in the comparative calm of a Sunday evening, onto the A12, through Brentford, Chelmsford, Colchester and finally to Harwich. Long before they had reached the port the two boys were asleep, curled up against Araminta. She sat, rather warm and cramped, with an arm around each of them, watching the doctor driving. He was a good driver.

She reflected that he would be an interesting man to know. It was a pity that the opportunity to do that was improbable. She wondered why he wasn’t married and allowed her imagination to roam. A widower? A love affair which had gone wrong and left him with a broken heart and dedicated to his work? Engaged? The last was the most likely. She had a sudden urge to find out.

They were amongst the last to go on board, and the doctor with one small sleeping boy and a porter with the other led the way to their cabins.

Araminta was to share a cabin with the boys; it was roomy and comfortable and well furnished, with a shower room, and once her overnight bag and the boys’ luggage had been brought to her she lost no time in undressing them and popping them into their narrow beds. They roused a little, but once tucked up slept again. She unpacked her night things and wondered what she should do. Would the doctor mind if she rang for a pot of tea and a sandwich? It was almost midnight and she was hungry.

A tap on the door sent her to open it and find him outside.

‘A stewardess will keep an eye on the boys. Come and have a meal; it will give me the opportunity to outline your day’s work.’

She was only too glad to agree to that; she went with him to the restaurant and made a splendid supper while she listened to him quietly describing the days ahead.

‘I live in Utrecht. The house is in the centre of the city, but there are several parks close by and I have arranged for the boys to attend school in the mornings. You will be free then, but I must ask you to be with them during the rest of the day. You will know best how to keep them happy and entertained.

‘I have a housekeeper and a houseman who will do all they can to make life easy for you and them. When I am free I will have the boys with me. I am sure that you will want to do some sightseeing. I expect my sister has told you her wishes concerning their clothes and daily routine. I must warn you that they are as naughty as the average small boy…they are also devoted to each other.’

Araminta speared a morsel of grilled sole. ‘I’ll do the best I can to keep them happy and content, Dr van der Breugh. And I shall come to you if I have any problems. You will be away during the day? Working? Will I know where you are?’

‘Yes, I will always leave a phone number for you or a message with Bas. He speaks English of a sort, and is very efficient.’ He smiled at her kindly. ‘I’m sure everything will be most satisfactory, Miss Pomfrey. And now I expect you would like to go to your bed. You will be called in good time in the morning. We will see how the boys are then. If they’re too excited to eat breakfast we will stop on the way and have something, but there should be time for a meal before we go ashore. You can manage them and have them up and ready?’

Araminta assured him that she could. Several years in the convalescent home had made her quite sure about that. She thanked him for her dinner, wished him goodnight, and was surprised when he went back to her cabin with her and saw her into it.

Nice manners, thought Araminta, getting undressed as fast as she could, having a quick shower and jumping into her bed after a last look at the boys—deeply asleep.

The boys woke when the stewardess brought morning tea. They drank the milk in the milk jug and ate all the biscuits. Talking non-stop, they washed and cleaned their teeth and dressed after a fashion. Araminta was tying shoelaces and inspecting fingernails when there was a knock on the door and the doctor came in.

‘If anyone is hungry there’s plenty of time for breakfast,’ he observed. He looked at Araminta. ‘You all slept well?’

‘Like logs,’ she told him, ‘and we’re quite ready, with everything packed.’

‘Splendid. Come along, then.’ He sounded briskly cheerful and she wondered if he found this disruption in his ordered life irksome. If he did, he didn’t allow it to show. Breakfast was a cheerful meal, eaten without waste of time since they were nearing the Hoek of Holland and the boys wanted to see the ferry dock.

Disembarking took time, but finally they were away from the customs shed, threading their way through the town.

‘We’ll go straight home,’ said the doctor. He had the two boys with him again and spoke to Araminta over his shoulder. ‘Less than an hour’s drive.’ He picked up the car phone and spoke into it. ‘I’ve told them we are on our way.’

There was a great deal of traffic as they neared Rotterdam, where they drove through the long tunnel under the Maas. Once through it, the traffic was even heavier. But presently, as they reached the outskirts of the city and were once more on the motorway, it thinned, and Araminta was able to look about her.

The country was flat, and she had expected that, but it was charming all the same, with farms well away from the highway, small copses of trees already turning to autumn tints, green meadows separated by narrow canals, and cows and horses roaming freely. The motorway bypassed the villages and towns, but she caught tantalising glimpses of them from time to time and promised herself that if she should get any free time, she would explore away from the main roads.

As though he had read her thoughts, the doctor said over his shoulder, ‘This is dull, isn’t it? But it’s the quickest way home. Before you go back we must try and show you some of rural Holland. I think you might like it.’

She murmured her thanks. ‘It’s a very good road,’ she said politely, anxious not to sound disparaging.

‘All the motorways are good. Away from them it’s a different matter. But you will see for yourself.’

Presently he turned off into a narrow country road between water meadows. ‘We’re going to drive along the River Vecht. It is the long way round to Utrecht, but well worth it. It will give you a taste of rural Holland.’

He drove north, away from Utrecht, and then turned into another country road running beside a river lined with lovely old houses set in well-kept grounds.

‘The East Indies merchants built their houses here—there’s rather a splendid castle you’ll see presently on your right. There are a number in Utrecht province—most of them privately owned. You must find time to visit one of those open to the public before you go back to England.’

Apparently satisfied that he had given her enough to go on with, he began a lively conversation with the boys, leaving her to study her surroundings. They were certainly charming, but she had the feeling that he had offered the information in much the same manner as a dutiful and well mannered host would offer a drink to an unexpected and tiresome guest.

They were on the outskirts of Utrecht by now, and soon at its heart. Some magnificent buildings, she conceded, and a bewildering number of canals. She glimpsed several streets of shops, squares lined by tall, narrow houses with gabled roofs and brief views of what she supposed were parks.

The boys were talking now, nineteen to the dozen, and in Dutch. Well, of course, they would, reflected Araminta. They had a Dutch mother and uncle. They were both talking at once, interrupted from time to time by the doctor’s measured tones, but presently Paul shouted over his shoulder, ‘We’re here, Mintie. Do look, isn’t it splendid?’

She looked. They were in a narrow gracht, tree-lined, with houses on either side of the canal in all shapes and sizes: some of them crooked with age, all with a variety of gabled roofs. The car had stopped at the end of the gracht before a narrow red-brick house with double steps leading up to its solid door. She craned her neck to see its height—four storeys, each with three windows. The ground floor ones were large, but they got progressively smaller at each storey so that the top ones of all were tucked in between the curve of the gable.

The doctor got out, went around to allow the boys to join him and then opened her door. He said kindly, ‘I hope you haven’t found the journey too tiring?’

Araminta said, ‘Not in the least,’ and felt as elderly as his glance indicated. Probably she looked twice her age; her toilet on board had been sketchy…

The boys had run up the steps, talking excitedly to the man who had opened the door, and the doctor, gently urging her up the steps said, ‘This is Bas, who runs my home with his wife. As I said, he speaks English, and will do all he can to help you.’

She offered a hand and smiled at the elderly lined face with its thatch of grey hair. Bas shook hands and said gravely, ‘We welcome you, miss, and shall do our best to make you happy.’

Which was nice, she thought, and wished that the doctor had said something like that.

What he did say was rather absent-minded. ‘Yes, yes, Miss Pomfrey. Make yourself at home and ask Bas for anything you may need.’

Which she supposed was the next best thing to a welcome.

The hall they entered was long and narrow, with a great many doors on either side of it, and halfway along it there was a staircase, curving upwards between the panelled walls. As they reached a pair of magnificent mahogany doors someone came to meet them from the back of the house. It was a short, stout woman in a black dress and wearing a printed pinny over it. She had a round rosy face and grey hair screwed into a bun. Her eyes were very dark and as she reached them she gave Araminta a quick look.

‘Jet…’ Dr van der Breugh sounded pleased to see her and indeed kissed her cheek and spoke at some length in his own language. His housekeeper smiled then, shook Araminta’s hand and bent to hug the boys, talking all the time.

The doctor said in English, ‘Go with Jet to the kitchen, both of you, and have milk and biscuits. Miss Pomfrey shall fetch you as soon as she has had a cup of coffee.’

Bas opened the doors and Araminta, invited to enter the room, did so. It was large and lofty, with two windows overlooking the gracht, a massive fireplace along one wall and glass doors opening into a room beyond. It was furnished with two vast sofas on either side of the fireplace and a number of comfortable chairs. There was a Pembroke table between the windows and a rosewood sofa table on which a china bowl of late roses glowed.

A walnut and marquetry display cabinet took up most of the wall beside the fireplace on one side, and on the other there was a black and gold laquer cabinet on a gilt stand. Above it was a great stoel clock, its quiet tick-tock somehow enhancing the peace of the room. And the furnishings were restful: dull mulberry-red and dark green, the heavy curtains at the windows matching the upholstery of the sofas and chairs. The floor was highly polished oak with Kasham silk rugs, faded with age, scattered on it.

A magnificent room, reflected Araminta, and if it had been anyone other than the doctor she would have said so. She held her tongue, however, sensing that he would give her a polite and chilly stare at her unasked-for praise.

He said, ‘Do sit down, Miss Pomfrey. Jet shall take you to your room when you have had coffee and then perhaps you would see to the boys’ things and arrange some kind of schedule for their day? We could discuss that later today.’