THE MIRACULOUS weather still held the next morning. Tabitha drank the tea Anneke brought her, laboriously trying out her few words of Dutch on the obliging girl as she did so, and then got up, not wishing to miss a moment of the last two days of the holiday. She was early, but Marius was even earlier; they met in the hall and he greeted her with a cheerful ‘Hullo, Tabby, if you’ve nothing better to do, come into the study—you can browse around the bookshelves while I do some telephoning.’
The little room was cool and quiet and the bookshelves definitely worth exploring. She wandered to and fro dipping into the catholic collection while she half listened to Marius making a succession of calls, all in Dutch. Presently he said; ‘Now the letters—you’re not bored?’
She looked up from an old copy of Jane’s Fighting Ships and shook her head, hoping that the letters would take a long time because she was enjoying herself. But they only took fifteen minutes or so, because he dictated them into a Dictaphone she hadn’t noticed on his desk. When he had finished, she asked:
‘Who types your letters?’
‘My secretary—she’s on holiday because I am, but she’ll be in some time today to deal with these. I couldn’t manage without her—she’s efficient and quiet, besides, she deals with bills and so forth as well as making appointments.’
Tabitha abandoned her book. ‘Do you see your patients here, then?’
‘Some. I’ve rooms in Rotterdam and Middelburg where I see private patients and then I see the Ziekenfonds patients in hospital.’
‘Every day?’
‘Twice a week. I lecture as well.’
‘But you don’t live in Rotterdam?’
‘No. Occasionally I spend a night there, but I prefer to go to and fro with the car.’
Tabitha nodded in agreement. ‘So would I if I were coming back here each evening. But isn’t it a long way?’
He shrugged. ‘Sixty odd miles, but the roads are good—it doesn’t take me much over an hour.’ He smiled and she smiled back because just for that brief while she was happy sitting there quietly with him, and he seemed to be enjoying it too. Even as she thought it he got up from his desk. ‘What shall we do today?’ he asked.
She didn’t answer but said instead: ‘There are only two days left,’ and walked through the house with him and out of the street door into the sunshine where there was already a cheerful bustle among the boats in the harbour as well as the clatter of the milkman and the postman and the man with a cartload of fruit and vegetables going slowly down the street, to stop each time a housewife appeared at her door. He shouted at Marius as he passed and then pulled up his elderly horse.
‘He’s offering you a pear, he says he’s got some nice ones,’ said Marius. ‘Go and help yourself.’
‘I haven’t any money.’ She looked at him doubtfully and he said, half-laughing: ‘Don’t worry about that—Hans is one of his best customers.’ But he walked over to the cart with her and waited while the greengrocer chose her the fruit and said something which made the man laugh very much. She had no idea what it was—she bit into her pear and was content.
Muriel joined them shortly afterwards and Tabitha went indoors to see how Mr Bow was getting on with his dressing and investigate the muffled roars coming from Mr Raynard’s room, due to the fact that he had mislaid his glasses.
By mutual consent the whole party voted for a day’s sailing from which they returned so gloriously tired that drinks at the yacht clubhouse and Hans’s excellent dinner, followed by the most desultory conversation, was all that was required to round off a perfect day. It was the same on the following day too, although they returned a little earlier so that they could pack ready for an early start in the morning, and after dinner a few of Marius’s friends came in for a drink and to wish them a good trip home, but they didn’t stay late and by eleven o’clock Tabitha had Mr Bow tucked up and half asleep in his bed and was on her way downstairs again to wish the others good night, only to find that the Raynards had already gone upstairs and Marius alone in the sitting room. She stood just inside the doorway, trying over a few graceful phrases in her head which would get her upstairs again, when Hans came to call him to the telephone, and she was left alone. It seemed rude to go to bed without saying good night; she waited patiently while the old-fashioned Zaansche clock on the wall ticked away five minutes. Probably he had forgotten she was there. But he hadn’t, she had got as far as the arch at the bottom of the stairs when he joined her.
‘I see I’m just in time,’ he observed mildly. ‘I should have asked you to wait.’ He opened a cupboard door in the wall and dragged out a thick sweater. ‘Put this round your shoulders—it’s chilly—and come up to the end of the harbour for a last look at the lake.’ They were at the door when he asked as an afterthought: ‘You’d like to come?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ said Tabitha politely, who could think of nothing nicer. She draped the thick wool round her, as it was indeed cool, for it was the last day of August and the evenings were shortening, although the sky was still the deep violet of summer and there were more stars than she could hope to count.
‘This time tomorrow we shall be in England,’ she said as they leaned over the wall by the hotel to watch the quiet water. Marius flung an arm round her shoulders.
‘England in autumn is delightful—I’m looking forward to it.’ And Tabitha, hardly sharing his views, made shift to murmur something and was taken aback when he said blandly: ‘You don’t sound enthusiastic.’
What was the good of telling him she wasn’t? And what had she to be enthusiastic about anyway? The ward, the endless broken bones, nurses to train, the constant forays to various departments in search of something needed for the ward and which no one wanted her to have…she loved her work, but at the moment it seemed singularly unattractive.
He said still blandly: ‘You haven’t answered.’
‘No, well—I expect we’re thinking of different things, don’t you?’
He took his arm from her shoulder and tucked a hand under her elbow and turned for home. ‘I’m quite sure we are.’ He sounded amused.
The return home went without a hitch, but as everything Marius arranged went smoothly, this wasn’t surprising. It was still early evening when they dropped the Raynards off at their house on the outskirts of the city. Tabitha and Mr Bow waited in the Bentley while Marius went to help with their luggage and give Mr Raynard what help he required to get into his house, and Muriel had run back to wish them goodbye and to promise a meeting as soon as it could be arranged. Ten minutes later Marius drew up in front of Tabitha’s flat. The end of the journey, she thought, and of a lovely holiday and, with reservations, of the happiest days of my life. She put her hand on the door to open it and it was instantly covered by Marius’s own hand. ‘No, wait,’ he said, ‘let me make sure Meg’s there first.’
Of course Meg was there, bustling to the door with cries of welcome. He went back to the car and helped Tabitha out and when she asked him if he and Mr Bow would like to come in for a cup of coffee, said yes, of course, in the tone of voice of someone who had expected the invitation, anyway.
‘Go on in to Meg,’ he advised. ‘I’ll see to Knotty and your case.’
The flat looked very small after the house in Veere, but it was lovely to fling herself at Meg to hug her and be hugged.
‘There’s a brown girl,’ said Meg with satisfaction. ‘My word, how well you look, love!’ Her sharp eyes went past Tabitha to study Marius and Mr Bow. ‘And the two gentlemen—very content and pleased with themselves they look.’
Tabitha turned round to have a look too. Meg was right; they had the look of men who had planned something which had turned out to be more successful than they had imagined it would. She couldn’t think what. She said vaguely: ‘We had a lovely time, Meg. Where’s Podger?’
Podger came at a sedate trot to greet Mr Bow and sit on his knee while they drank their coffee, and then, at Meg’s earnest invitation, ate the sandwiches she offered. And all the time they talked; there was so much to tell and mull over, more than two hours had passed when Marius got to his feet, declaring it was time they all went to bed. Tabitha wondered where he and Mr Bow intended to spend the night, and longed to ask. Instead she thanked him nicely for her holiday, reminded Mr Bow that she would be seeing him in a couple of days, and wished them both good night. If she had hoped that Marius would have anything to say to her, she refused to admit it, her face was calmly friendly as she waved them goodbye—a calm engendered by a hopelessness which she was careful to hide from Meg as they cleared up the coffee cups and got ready for bed. The holiday was over, she couldn’t expect Marius to be more than casually friendly in the future; she had made it plain to him that nothing he could do would make her and Lilith like each other, and naturally it would be Lilith he wanted to please—and that meant cold-shouldering her.
She woke in the night and for a few blissful moments, imagined that she was still in Veere and as it was impossible to sleep again, she lay remembering. ‘At least I have memories,’ she said out loud to Podger, who being sleepy, took no notice at all. But she dismissed the memories in the morning and set herself to entertain Meg with all the details of her stay in Holland and then, because Meg had been having a rather lonely time of it, she drove her down to Torquay, where they had lunch and a pleasant stroll along the sea-front. Meg enjoyed herself enormously, but its bustling holiday atmosphere merely served to make Tabitha sick with longing for Veere again.
The ward, on Monday morning, looked unfamiliar in its fresh coat of paint and the gay new curtains. The patients looked unfamiliar too, excepting for Mr Prosser, who had suffered an infection which had set him back a few weeks. He hailed Tabitha with his usual good humour, however, declared that she looked prettier than ever and wanted to know if she had drowned anyone sailing.
‘Good gracious, no,’ said Tabitha cheerfully. ‘I’m far too good at it.’
‘You brought our Dutchman back with yer, Sister?’
She said with dignity: ‘Mr van Beek returned with us, yes. Mr Bow too, he’s coming in tomorrow for a check-up and to have his plaster off.’
‘And the boss—’ow’s ’e? Can’t think ’ow ’e managed with that great plaster round ’is knee. Sailin’, I mean.’
‘You’d be surprised!’ Tabitha spoke with some feeling, remembering Mr Raynard’s activities on board. ‘He’ll be back very soon now.’ She smiled at him very kindly because he had been in hospital a long time and never grumbled. ‘Not long now, Mr Prosser, before you’re home again.’
He beamed at her. ‘Yes, and won’t I be glad? Not that you’ve not been tops, ducks, you and the nurses, but I’ve ’ad enough ’ospital ter last me. Can’t think ’ow yer stand it year after year.’
Tabitha wondered too as she walked away, to bump into George Steele at the ward door. He said with genuine pleasure:
‘Tabby, how nice to see you again! We’ve missed you—no coffee after the round and no cups of tea when we’re exhausted.’
‘Well, if that’s all you missed me for—tea and coffee—the very idea! I might just as well be working for British Railways.’
He laughed. ‘Well, can we sample the coffee now while we go over the patients?’
They sat in her office and pored over charts and notes until the coffee arrived. ‘Now tell me about your holiday,’ he demanded.
Tabitha sipped her Nescafé, so different from Hans’s great enamel pot in the kitchen at Veere. ‘It was lovely. We went sailing every day—well, nearly every day, and Mr Bow is almost fit again and Mr Raynard can’t wait to start work.’
‘And van Beek?’
She choked a little. ‘He’s fine—he’s coming back for a few days.’
George eyed her over his mug. ‘Yes, I know that—he telephoned me. What else did you do?’
‘Well, we sailed and swam and—and talked and did some shopping.’
‘What, no dancing and dining by candlelight…’ He was interrupted by Mrs Jeffs, who put her head round the door and said in a conspirator’s whisper: ‘He’s in the ward, Sister—he came in through the balcony door.’
‘Who?’ asked Tabitha, knowing very well.
‘Why, Mr van Beek, Sister.’ Mrs Jeffs looked a little put out and then broke into a rich chuckle as her head disappeared and Marius came in. He said hullo to them both in a placid voice and then turned to Tabitha.
‘How does it feel to be back?’ he wanted to know. He eyed the coffee pot. ‘I see your staff are already mothering you very nicely.’
‘Me!’ Tabitha sounded indignant as Mrs Jeffs came in with another mug. ‘You’re the one who’s being mothered!’
‘And quite right too.’ He disposed his length cautiously on the small wooden chair and added amiably: ‘I’m a bachelor with no one to look after me.’
‘How about Hans?’
‘Hans? A first-class chauffeur, a splendid cook and a wonderful way with children, but I fear he would make a poor wife.’
They all laughed and Tabitha observed: ‘But he would have made a splendid husband.’
Marius helped himself to sugar. ‘Hans has been married. His wife was killed when Rotterdam was bombed in 1940. She was twenty and they had been married just over one year.’
Tabitha put down her cup. ‘Oh, poor Hans—I wish I’d known.’
Marius asked: ‘Do you mind if we smoke?’ and when she shook her head the two men set about the ritual of pipe filling. When they were nicely wreathed in smoke, Marius asked: ‘Why?’
Tabitha hesitated. ‘Well, I like Hans, I should have liked to have heard about his wife…’
Marius nodded. ‘Probably he’ll tell you, he likes you too. He’ll be coming over shortly for a quick visit—he won’t stay long because of Smith.’
Tabitha wondered why Hans should come to England. ‘Will you ask him to come and see me when he does?’
Marius said: ‘Yes, of course.’ His voice was non-committal and he wasn’t smiling, and yet she formed the impression that he was laughing. There was no way of finding out, for he had put down his cup and turned to George, who had been sitting quietly watching them; making no attempt to join in their talk, almost as though he guessed that they had forgotten that he was there.
‘Shall we do a quick round, George?’ They all stood up and as Tabitha went ahead of them through the door he said: ‘I’d like to get away before twelve if I can—I’ve promised to be at Chidlake for lunch.’
They did the round with ten minutes to spare, and Tabitha, her tanned face serious and withdrawn, did everything she should have done with her usual deftness and good sense, although the fact that she produced the right forms at the right times and handed the correct charts and turned back the right bedclothes was due solely to her excellent training and years of usage, for her mind was on other things. Marius was wasting no time in going to Chidlake; she allowed her imagination to run riot as they went from bed to bed while she made notes of Marius’s wishes and held up X-rays for his inspection. It was at the finish of the round, as the men were leaving that Marius asked softly: ‘And where were you all this while, Tabitha?’
She gave him a quick look, in case he was joking. He wasn’t. ‘I was here.’ Her voice sounded small.
‘So you were,’ he agreed blandly, ‘but your thoughts were a long way off?’
She looked guilty. ‘Oh—did I miss something?’
He shook his head. ‘Shall I give your love to your stepmother and Lilith?’
‘Yes, please,’ and then: ‘No, not my love, just—just say I hope they had a good journey back.’
He nodded and put a hand on the patient George’s shoulder. He said formally: ‘Goodbye, Sister, and thank you.’ The men turned away and he went on: ‘George, Mr Bow is coming back for a checkup. Can I leave you to deal with him?’
They walked away, deep in talk, and she went back into the ward to help tidy the beds for Matron’s round.
There was a heavy list the next day; she didn’t see Marius until late in the afternoon after the last case had come back from theatre. His visit was brief—to see his cases and to make sure that they were satisfactory. He looked tired and said nothing at all to Tabitha beyond an absent-minded good evening. And the following day when he came he brought Mr Raynard with him, with his stick and his stiff leg and a tongue which to Tabby’s ears sounded sharper than ever. He didn’t like the curtains for a start, nor the colour of the paint; she was afraid that he would declare that he didn’t like the patients either, but luckily his attention was diverted by the sight of Mr Bow, looking unnaturally brown amongst all the white faces and without his plaster. He drew up a chair and sat down to talk with the old gentleman, which improved his temper so much that he grudgingly admitted that perhaps the curtains weren’t so bad after all. ‘And what the hell is Prosser doing here?’ he demanded of Tabitha, who happened to be nearest to him.
She explained calmly and he heard her out and then declared grumpily:
‘She’s a different girl, isn’t she, Marius? So prim and efficient, just as though she’d never worn a bikini in her life.’
Tabitha, a little red in the face, looked round at the patients to make sure none of them had heard this outrageous remark. Apparently not. She observed patiently: ‘Look, sir, I can’t do a round in a bikini.’
Mr Raynard laughed, his humour quite restored. ‘A different girl, though. Eh, Marius?’
‘No,’ said Marius deliberately, ‘exactly the same girl.’ He smiled at Tabitha—he hadn’t smiled like that since they were in Veere. She looked away quickly, aware of her heart pounding beneath her starched apron. It was later in the day, when they had gone, that she remembered that Marius had been to Chidlake to lunch, yet she herself had received that message not to go there because they would be away. She frowned over it and then in a little rush of work, forgot it.
She remembered it the next day when George casually mentioned that he would be on call for the next couple of days. Tabitha frowned. ‘But you can’t be, George,’ she exclaimed. ‘Mr van Beek’s down on the list in the office.’
‘I know, but he wants to be free to go over to Chidlake.’
‘But the house is empty—I had a message.’
‘Don’t know anything about it,’ said George comfortably, and with that useless remark she had to be content, though she resolved then and there to go to Chidlake at the first opportunity.
There was no opportunity. Marius only operated twice in the week, but his lists were formidable; he was going back to Holland for a few days in a week’s time; he seemed intent on cramming in as much work as possible. She had already put off one free day and when Marius stopped for a rare word with her and remarked that she really ought not to work every day without a break, her temper flared.
‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ she declared roundly. ‘Just how do I take a day off when Staff is off with a sore throat?’
‘You told me not half an hour ago that she would be back on duty tomorrow.’
Tabitha fixed him with a smouldering eye. ‘And I shall take a day off,’ she snapped.
Marius put down the X-ray film he had been studying. ‘Good. What will you do?’
‘I shall go to Chidlake.’ She hadn’t meant to tell him, and now she frowned with vexation.
He said casually: ‘Must you? I want to go up to Umberleigh,’ he didn’t say why, ‘and I thought you might like to come along for the ride. I’m going to Holland next week, and taking Knotty with me, by the way. You could go to Chidlake then, couldn’t you?’
Tabitha hesitated. It was quite true, she could just as easily go the following week, and the prospect of a few hours in his company far outweighed the urgency of going to Chidlake. She said finally:
‘Well, all right. That would be nice, and as you say, I can just as easily go home next week. I can go on Tuesday, for there won’t be any theatre cases, will there?’ She sighed, remembering he wouldn’t be there on Tuesday. ‘I can drive over then.’
Marius said casually: ‘Why not?’ as he added the X-ray film to the others on the desk. ‘I’ll come for you about eleven, if that suits you. Now how about some coffee, and do you think you could get George down again? I think we had better put our heads together about Prosser.’
Tabitha wakened the next day to a sky covered by thick grey clouds jostling each other around on the wind. Probably it would rain; she put on a plainly cut peach-coloured linen dress and covered it with a raincoat, as Marius hadn’t said what they were going to do. She might as well go prepared for a tramp over Exmoor; she added flat suede shoes and tucked a headscarf in her pocket, just in case that was what he had in mind. As she did so the thought crossed her mind that it should have been Lilith who was going with him, but perhaps she was already in Paris, leaving him at a loose end. It was a pity that her own outings with Marius were confined to those occasions when there was no one else to bear him company. She voiced this opinion aloud to Meg, who looked shocked and said in an admonitory tone: ‘Now, Miss Tabby, that’s no way to talk about a nice gentleman like Mr van Beek, for there’s no need for him to take you out. He’s that handsome and well-to-do I daresay he could have any girl for the asking. You be glad he wants you for a friend, like I said before.’ She shook her head quite fiercely. ‘There’s the door now—that’ll be him. There’s a nice cup of coffee waiting, so bring him straight in, Miss Tabby.’
Marius seemed in no great hurry to get to Umberleigh, for once they were through Crediton, he turned off through Winkleigh and took to the byroads, winding round the country until Tabitha, who knew that part of the world well enough, enquired if he were lost.
He glanced at her and smiled. ‘No. How would you like to try out the car?’
She sat up straight. ‘Me? Drive your car? I’ve never even sat in a Bentley before I met you!’
‘That’s no reason for not driving it. Are you scared?’
‘Stop,’ said Tabitha in a goaded voice; she was already undoing her safety belt. ‘I’ll drive your car. If I smash it up I hope you won’t expect me to buy you another.’
He laughed and drew into the side of the road and they changed places. She found the Bentley surprisingly easy to drive and after the first few nervous moments she found she could handle the big car well enough. Marius let her drive several miles before he remarked: ‘Very nice. You use your head, Tabby—I should have no hesitation in going to sleep while you drove.’
High praise indeed; she accelerated slightly out of pure pleasure, although her voice was meek enough as she asked which way they should go.
They were at a crossroads; without hesitation Marius said: ‘Go through Burrington and then take the Chittlehampton road—I thought we’d lunch there.’
The High Bullen inn was noted for its good food; they ate truites flambés au Pernod, lamb Shrewsbury and Pêche Melba with a good claret to wash them down, while they talked of a great many things, but never once of Lilith, although Tabitha tried her hardest to bring the conversation round to this interesting subject. But each time Marius frustrated her because, she suspected, he had no intention of allowing her to ask any questions of a personal nature, although he seemed ready enough to talk about his life in Holland and his friends, even his boyhood, something which he had never enlarged upon before. It was after two o’clock when he said reluctantly:
‘I suppose we had better get on—I’m going to see an old patient of mine who lives near Umberleigh. I haven’t seen her for some time—you won’t mind if we stay a little while?’
‘No, of course not, but will your patient mind?’
They were running smoothly along a high-hedged lane. ‘I told her that you would be with me,’ his tone was casual. ‘I thought you might like to see the garden, it’s rather nice.’
The understatement of the year, thought Tabitha as he turned the Bentley through lodge gates and drove without haste across a miniature park.
‘Capability Brown?’ she enquired.
‘I believe so. He had a great eye for landscaping, didn’t he?’
They ran through a tunnel of rhododendrons and out into a wide sweep of drive before a stone-fronted house of some size. It had an elegant backing of trees and a gate at one side leading to the garden Marius had mentioned. The surroundings were beautiful even under the still stormy sky. They got out of the car and Tabitha said: ‘How heavenly! Shall I go into the garden while you see your patient?’
Marius smiled a little. ‘I think my patient would like to meet you—this isn’t a wholly professional visit, you know. We’re good friends too.’
They were admitted by an elderly maid, dressed very correctly in her black and white uniform, and conducted across a vast entrance hall to an even vaster drawing room, most elegantly furnished, and littered with what Tabitha took to be a large quantity of valuable silver and china. There was a small fire burning in the burnished steel grate and beside it sat an extremely fat old lady with a round face and beady black eyes. Her several chins rested on an old-fashioned boned collar and there was a magnificent diamond brooch fastening the rich black velvet folds of her dress. She looked up as they were announced and said in a clear voice like a little girl’s: ‘There you are, Marius. Come here so that I can have a good look at you.’
He advanced towards her chair and Tabitha, his compelling hand under her elbow, with him. He said pleasantly: ‘Hullo, Dolly. Lovelier than ever, I see, and not a day older.’
The old lady looked delighted. ‘What did you expect? I shall go on for ever.’ She suddenly produced a lorgnette from the vast array of chains and necklaces draped around her ample person and leveled it at Tabitha, who returned the scrutiny with polite interest.
‘May I present Miss Tabitha Crawley to you, Dolly? Tabitha—the Dowager Lady Riddleton, who has been my friend for a good many years as well as one of my patients.’
The old lady lowered the lorgnette. ‘Do you know about me, Miss Crawley?’
Tabitha shook her head. ‘No, Lady Riddleton, I don’t,’ and added quickly just in case Lady Riddleton should get mistaken ideas into her head: ‘I’m a ward sister working at the hospital where Marius operates…’ She stopped because the old lady’s face had creased into a thousand little folds as she began to chuckle, she drew breath long enough to say: ‘He told me,’ and went on chuckling. Presently she observed: ‘He’s a good surgeon, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, he is,’ said Tabitha.
‘And a handsome man too—I’ve no doubt you young women set your caps at him.’
Tabitha bristled and Marius said on a laugh: ‘Not Tabitha—she keeps hers firmly on her head. She’s got an idea she’s a plain girl, you see.’
Tabitha rounded on him, quite forgetting where she was. ‘Well,’ she breathed fiercely, ‘of all the things to say!’
‘That’s right,’ agreed her hostess, ‘I like a girl with spirit. I had plenty myself when I was young. Come here, gal, where I can see you.’
Tabitha looked around her rather wildly; the room was empty save for the three of them, and one glance at Marius’s face showed her that he wasn’t going to be of any use at all; in fact, he was enjoying himself. She gave him a cold look and stepped unwillingly forward to be subjected once more to a prolonged examination through the lorgnette.
‘Not plain at all,’ pronounced her ladyship. ‘Nice little chin, honest eyes, gentle mouth, plenty of hair—good figure too. She’ll still be getting admiring glances long after the chocolate box beauties have had their faces lifted.’ She paused to get her breath and Tabitha opened her mouth to give vent to her own feelings, but she had no chance. ‘Look at me,’ commanded Lady Riddleton. ‘Now I was plain and I still am,’ she gave a silvery little laugh, ‘but no one has called me “poor Dolly” in my life and though I’m turned eighty I’ve more friends than I can count.’ She leaned forward and tapped Tabitha’s arm with a podgy, be-ringed hand. ‘You thank God you’re no raving beauty, gal, then you won’t waste the years worrying about getting old and ugly—time is kind to our sort.’
She leaned back in her chair. ‘Pull the bell, Marius, we’ll have tea—you can look at my legs afterwards. Sit down, Tabitha—and that’s a good old-fashioned name. Marius tells me you’ve been on holiday in Veere. What did you think of his home?’ At Tabitha’s look of surprise she went: ‘Oh, yes, I know it well. We were there with our yacht when I had my accident ten years ago—it was Marius who saved my legs for me.’
Tabitha found this interesting and would have liked to have learned more, but just then tea was brought in and the conversation became general with Lady Riddleton doing most of the talking while she ate her way daintily through a large variety of sandwiches, jam tarts, little iced cakes and a couple of slices of very rich fruit cake. Fortified by these dainties, their hostess bade Tabitha go into the garden, ‘For,’ she said with rather touching pride, ‘I planned some of it myself and it is lovely, although I can’t touch the original gardens for beauty. And Marius, ring for Parkes to come down and help me to my room—she can come for you when I’m ready.’
Tabitha went out through the French windows at the end of the room, on to a balcony which led by stone steps to the garden which despite its size had a charming informality as well as beauty. She wandered round, sniffing and admiring and reading labels, happily oblivious of the time. She had crossed the ornamental pond by its little rustic bridge to see what was on the other side and had returned to stroll up the long walk with its herbaceous border when Marius joined her. He had come from one of the shrubbery paths which intersected the walk and she said quickly: ‘I’ve not been bothering about the time. Have I kept you waiting?’
He shook his head and strolled along beside her. ‘What do you think of the garden?’ he wanted to know.
‘Lovely. I should like to take a slice of it back with me. There’s a herb garden beyond the pond and a bed of miniature roses…’
‘Yes, I know.’
She paused to look up at him. ‘You’ve been here before, of course. A great many times? You know Lady Riddleton very well, don’t you? You talked to her as though she was an—an aunt.’
He looked amused. ‘She is my aunt, though a very distant one. She and her husband used to visit my parents when I was a boy.’
Tabitha, although interested, refused to be sidetracked. ‘She’s rather outspoken…that is, I’ve no wish to be rude, but does your aunt always talk like that?’
‘Only to those she likes—otherwise you would have been treated with an icy politeness which would have frozen your marrow in its bones.’
She went on walking. ‘How extremely friendly of you to expose me to such a possibility,’ she said crossly.
‘You malign me,’ his voice was silky. ‘I knew she would like you.’
Tabitha was on the point of asking why and decided against it. ‘You laughed,’ she said instead, still cross.
‘Kind laughter, Tabitha, you know that, nor was my aunt unkind.’
‘Why did you bring me here?’
‘I told you, for the ride.’ He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘No, that’s not quite all—I wanted Dolly to see you, because I knew she would tell you what I have been telling you for weeks. You can’t very well ignore her opinion of you, although you have always chosen to ignore mine.’
This was a remark which was difficult to answer. Tabitha changed the subject. ‘I like Lady Riddleton,’ she offered.
He seemed content to follow her lead. ‘Everyone does—that is unless they are unfortunate enough to be disliked by her.’ He took her arm and guided her down a small path ‘Did you find the dovecote?’
She said no, she hadn’t and they went on down the path to come out into a grassy space with the dovecote in its centre. It was very old and the doves were flying in and out of its little windows, their wings making a soft whirring sound as they called softly to each other. Tabitha found them enchanting and when one came to perch on her shoulder she laughed like a little girl.
‘Look, Marius—do look!’ she cried, and was swung round to face him, so tightly held that she could scarcely breathe. She stared up into his face, no longer placid but almost grim. She asked, stammering a little:
‘Whatever is the matter, Marius?’
The grim look disappeared. He said lightly: ‘Nothing. We’ve been invited to stay for dinner—you won’t mind?’
She still stood within his arms, but now their touch was impersonal so that the thumping of her heart slowed to normal. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly, ‘I’d like that very much.’
So they stayed to dinner, a leisurely meal which lasted all of two hours, what with the amount and variety of the food and Lady Riddleton’s conversation, which was very amusing because she had led a very varied life and met a great many interesting people. They took their leave at last and drove back through the cloudy evening, not bothering to talk very much. They had got past the stage where they needed to make conversation, Tabitha thought dreamily, just to be together was enough. She jerked her thoughts away from the idea and applied herself to asking Marius intelligent questions about the house they had just visited.
She saw very little of him for the next day or so. He came and went, sometimes with Mr Raynard, hobbling along with his stick, sometimes on his own, but always on ward business. On Saturday and Sunday he didn’t come at all and on the following day he operated for hours, made a brief appearance in the ward to check on his patients, reminded her carelessly that he would be gone for a few days, and went again.
Tabitha went to Chidlake the next day, glad of something to do now that Marius wasn’t there. It was a pleasant enough day with a faint nip in the early autumn air. She stowed a picnic lunch in the back of the car and set out.
She stopped as she always did at the top of the hill above her home. There was a mist coming in from the sea, but she hardly noticed it; her attention was all on Chidlake. She sighed as she looked and went on down the hill. As she turned in at its gate she saw the open windows—presumably her stepmother had left someone in the house—so much the better, she would be able to get some coffee or whatever was going in the kitchen. She opened the front door and went inside and Lilith came out of the sitting room as she did so, to stare at her with such a guilty look that Tabitha said: ‘Lilith, whatever is the matter? I know I’m not expected—I thought you were away.’
She went past her stepsister into the sitting room and found Mrs Crawley looking annoyed and even a little guilty too.
‘Tabitha!’ her voice was sharp. ‘Whatever are you doing here?’
Tabitha was bewildered. She knew she wasn’t always welcome, but they were behaving as though they had something to hide, ‘I thought you were away—it seemed a good idea to drive over for an hour. Marius gave me your message telling me not to come.’ She stopped and asked: ‘Didn’t you?’
Mrs Crawley had regained her usual poise. ‘Oh—did I?” She got up and went to stand at the window, her back to Tabitha.
‘Well, since you’re here, you may as well know that we’ve decided to sell Chidlake.’ She ignored Tabitha’s quick-drawn breath. ‘It’s mine to sell and really there’s no reason why I should tell you.’
Tabitha asked with dry lips: ‘When?’
Her stepmother shrugged. ‘We want a good offer. How should I know?’ she added quickly. ‘Christmas perhaps.’ She waited for Tabitha to speak and when she didn’t, continued in a hard voice: ‘This house was left to me, I can do with it exactly as I wish. We— Lilith and I—loathe living here.’
Tabitha found her voice. ‘My father would never have left Chidlake to you—you know that, he said so many times; you were to have the money and Chidlake was to stay in the family—I was to have it. Why do you want Chidlake if you hate it so?’ The rage she was holding in check turned her quiet voice harsh.
Mrs Crawley laughed. ‘My dear Tabby, if only you knew how silly you look standing there insulting me. The house is mine, whatever your father intended to do with it, and I shall sell it for as much as I can.’ She smiled. ‘In fact I…’ she bit her lip and went on, ‘you’ll not get a penny.’
Tabitha said in a quiet, despairing voice: ‘I don’t want money. Couldn’t you…?’
‘No!’ Mrs Crawley was triumphant. ‘You’ve got that annuity and far more furniture than you need, you can be content with that.’
Tabitha stood where she was, knowing that there was nothing she could do. Her stepmother was quite right; if she chose to sell the house, she had every right to do so. The older people in the village might shake their heads and disapprove, they might even protest aloud, but no one could do anything. Tabitha tried once more. ‘Will you reconsider your decision? The house has been in the family for years—there have always been Crawleys here…’
Mrs Crawley lighted a cigarette before she replied. ‘No, Tabitha, I won’t. I don’t care how many Crawleys have lived here. It’s a dump.’
Tabitha bit back a hot rejoinder. ‘When did you first decide to sell?’
Her stepmother smiled. ‘We had often talked about it; funnily enough it was on Lilith’s birthday—during her party—that I had a serious offer for it.’
‘You didn’t tell me.’
‘Tell you? Why should I, it’s none of your business. Really, Tabitha, I sometimes think that you’re not only plain and dull but stupid as well.’
Tabitha had a sudden vivid memory of Lady Riddleton telling her that she wasn’t plain. She said quietly: ‘I don’t mind any more when you say things like that. I know it’s not of the least consequence.’
Mrs Crawley gave her a narrow look. ‘My dear Tabitha, you talk like a woman in love. Now I wonder…’
She got no further, for Lilith came into the room. ‘It’s no good expecting you can stay to lunch, Tabitha,’ she said, ‘we’re going out. I don’t suppose you want to anyway—I can see Mummy’s told you that…’ She paused because of her mother’s warning glance. She flung herself in a chair and muttered: ‘Oh, well,’ and began to inspect her nails. Tabitha, looking at her, thought she had never seen her so pretty; no wonder Marius wanted to marry her. As though she had spoken his name aloud, her stepsister said: ‘Marius came to lunch.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Tabitha, ‘he mentioned it on the ward.’
‘I find him rather old,’ said Lilith, ‘but I shall marry him, you know. All that lovely lolly—after all, he won’t be home a great deal, will he with all these lectures he gives?’
Tabitha felt sick. She was sure that Marius was perfectly able to manage Lilith once he had married her, and perhaps he loved her too much to care. She left the house without a word, got into the Fiat and started back up the hill. She stopped at the top and looked back. The sea mist was quite thick now, she couldn’t see Chidlake at all.
She got back to the flat as Meg was washing up after her lunch, and she, dear soul, after one look at Tabitha’s white face, left the sink and pushed her gently into a chair. ‘I don’t know what it is that’s happened, Miss Tabby, but you look in need of a nice cup of tea.’ She put the kettle on and went to draw up another chair. ‘Do you want to tell me, love?’
Tabitha’s eyes filled with tears. ‘They’re going to sell Chidlake, Meg.’ She drew a steadying breath. ‘And I can’t stop them. They’ve been meaning to do it for months and they only told me today because I went h—home.’
‘Sell Chidlake?’ Meg’s cheerful face was shocked. ‘They can’t—there’s been a Crawley there for I don’t know how long.’
‘I know,’ sobbed Tabitha, ‘I—I said so, and she called it a d—dump.’ She wiped her eyes and blew her nose and sat up straight. ‘Meg, what are we to do? I must think of something.’
Meg made the tea and put a cup, very strong and sweet, on the table.
‘Drink this up, Miss Tabby. When are they going to sell Chidlake?’
‘After Christmas—at least—’ she frowned, ‘my stepmother said so, but now I’m not sure—but she said Christmas.’
‘Time enough to think of something, and depend upon it we shall.’
They thought about it for the rest of the day and were no nearer a solution when they went to bed that night. As they said good night Tabitha exclaimed wearily: ‘Oh, Meg, I wish Marius was here; he’d know what to do. Oh, no—I can’t tell him, can I? It will look as though I’m trying to make trouble between him and Lilith, and what could he do anyway?’
It was a pleasure to go to work the next morning and find the ward so busy that she had no time for personal problems, and the next day the shock had dulled a little and hope was already beginning to nibble away at her doubts and fears. She went doggedly through the week, longing for Marius’s return on Friday. But Friday came and no sign of him and when she asked George what had happened he looked up hurriedly from a patient’s notes and said vaguely: ‘He’s delayed—didn’t I tell you? We’ll have to manage.’
Tabitha ignored the childish tears pricking her eyelids. She said furiously: ‘There’s a list as long as your arm, and I’m still a staff nurse short…’ And George, who had looked up in astonishment at her sudden outburst, said comfortingly: ‘Never mind, old lady, we’ll manage somehow. Just our luck the chief’s got a cold and can’t hobble to our rescue.’ He grinned at her. ‘Bet you anything you like that we get a whacking great emergency in, just to cap the lot.’
Tabitha swallowed the tears. ‘Oh, George, you’re always such a comfort,’ she cried.