A Suitable Match
‘We should be getting back,’ she suggested to her grandfather, and was echoed at once by Sir Colin.
‘So must we. Allow me to give you a lift—the car’s by the Kew Road entrance.’
Before her grandfather could speak, Eustacia said quickly, ‘That’s very kind of you, but I daresay we live in a quite opposite direction to you: Kennington.’
‘It couldn’t be more convenient,’ she was told smoothly. ‘We can keep south of the river, drop you off and cross at Southwark.’ He gave her a gentle smile and at the same time she saw that he intended to have his own way.
They walked to the main gate, suiting their pace to that of her grandfather, and got into the dark blue Rolls-Royce parked there. Eustacia sat between the boys at the back, surprised to find that they were sharing it with a small, untidy dog with an extremely long tail and melting brown eyes. Moreover, he had a leg in plaster.
‘This is Moses,’ said Oliver as he squashed in beside Eustacia. ‘He was in the water with a broken leg,’ he explained and, since Eustacia looked so astonished, said it for a second time, rather loudly, just as though she were deaf.
‘Oh, the poor little beast.’ She bent to rub the unruly head at their feet and Sir Colin, settling himself in the driving-seat, said over his shoulder, ‘He’s not quite up to walking far, but he likes to be with us. Unique, isn’t he?’
‘But nice,’ said Eustacia, and wished she could think of a better word.
It was quite a lengthy drive; she sat between the boys, taking part in an animated conversation on such subjects as horrendous schoolmasters, their favourite TV programmes, their dislike of maths and their favourite food. She found them both endearing and felt regret when the drive was over and the car drew up before their flat. Rolls-Royces were a rarity in the neighbourhood, and it would be a talking-point for some time—already curtains in neighbouring houses were being twitched.
She wished the boys goodbye and they chorused an urgent invitation to go out with them again, and, conscious of Sir Colin’s hooded eyes upon her, she murmured non-committally, bending to stroke Moses because she could feel herself blushing hatefully.
She waited while her grandfather expressed his thanks for the ride, and then she added her own thanks with a frank look from her dark eyes, to encounter his smiling gaze.
‘We have enjoyed your company,’ he told her, and she found herself believing him. ‘The boys get bored, you know; I haven’t all that time at home and my housekeeper is elderly and simply can’t cope with them.’
‘Housekeeper? Oh, I thought they were yours.’
‘My brother’s. He has gone abroad with his wife, a job in Brunei for a few months. They are too young for boarding-school…’
They had shaken hands and he still held hers in a firm grasp.
‘They like you,’ he said.
‘Well, I like them. I’m glad I met them and Grandfather has enjoyed himself. He doesn’t get out much.’
He nodded and gave her back her hand and went to open the rickety gate, and waited while they went up the short path to the front door and opened it. Eustacia turned as they went inside and smiled at them all, before he closed the gate, got back into his car and drove away.
‘A delightful morning, my dear,’ said her grandfather. ‘I feel ten years younger—and such an interesting conversation. You are most fortunate to be working for such a man.’
‘Well, I don’t,’ said Eustacia matter-of-factly. ‘I only met him because he came down to the path lab for something. He goes to St Biddolph’s once or twice a week to operate and see his patients, and as I seldom leave the path lab except when there is a message to run we don’t meet.’
‘Yes, yes,’ her grandfather sounded testy, ‘but now that you have met you will see more of each other.’
She thought it best not to argue further; she suspected that he had no idea of the work she did. Sir Colin had been charming but that didn’t mean to say that he wished to pursue their acquaintance; indeed it was most unlikely. A pity, she reflected as she went to the kitchen to get their lunch, but they occupied different worlds—she would probably end up by marrying another bottle-washer. A sobering thought even while she laughed at the idea.
It was December in no time at all, or so it seemed, and the weather turned cold and damp and dark, and the shops began to fill with Christmas food and a splendid array of suitable presents. Eustacia did arithmetic on the backs of envelopes, made lists and began to hoard things like chocolate biscuits, strawberry jam, tins of ham and a Christmas pudding; she had little money over each week and she laid it out carefully, determined to have a good Christmas. There would be no one to visit, of course. As far as she knew they had no family, and her grandfather’s friends lived in the north of England and her own friends from school days were either married or holding down good jobs with no time to spare. From time to time they exchanged letters, but pride prevented her from telling any of them about the change in her life. She wrote cheerful replies, telling them nothing in a wealth of words.
On the first Saturday in December it was her lot to work all day. Mr Brimshaw arrived some time after she did, wished her a grumpy good morning and went into his own office, and she began on her chores. It was a dismal day and raining steadily, but she busied herself with her dishes and pots, made coffee for Mr Brimshaw and herself and thought about Christmas. She would have liked a new dress but that was out of the question—she had spent more than she could afford on a thick waistcoat for her grandfather and a pair of woollen gloves, and there was still something to be bought for their landlady, who, although kindly disposed towards them as long as the rent was paid on time, needed to be kept sweet. A headscarf, mused Eustacia, or perhaps a box of soap? She was so deep in thought that Mr Brimshaw had to bawl twice before she heard him.
‘Hurry up, girl—Casualty’s full—there’s been an accident in Oxford Street and they’ll be shouting for blood before I can take a breath. Get along with this first batch and then come back as fast as you can.’
He had cross-matched another victim when she got back, so she hurried away for a second time with another vacoliter and after that she lost count of the times she trotted to and fro. The initial urgency settled down presently and Mr Brimshaw, crosser than ever because he was late for his lunch, went home and Mr Walker took over, and after that things became a little more settled. All the same, she was tired when the evening porter came on duty and she was able to go home. It was still raining; she swathed her person in her elderly raincoat, tied a scarf over her hair and made for the side entrance. It being Saturday, there wouldn’t be all that number of buses which meant that they would be full too. She nipped smartly across the courtyard, head down against the rain, and went full tilt into Sir Colin, coming the other way. He took her considerable weight without any effort and stood her on to her feet.
‘Going home?’ he wanted to know gently.
She nodded and then said, ‘Oh…’ when he took her arm and turned her round.
‘So am I. I’ll drop you off on my way.’
‘But I’m wet, I’ll spoil your car.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ he begged her nicely. ‘I’m wet too.’
He bustled her to the car and settled her into the front seat and got in beside her.
‘It’s out of your way,’ sighed Eustacia weakly.
‘Not at all—what a girl you are for finding objections.’
They sat in a comfortable silence as he turned the car in the direction of the river and Kennington. That he had only just arrived at the hospital intent on having a few words with his registrar, when he saw her, was something he had no intention of revealing. He wasn’t at all sure why he had offered to take her home; he hardly knew her and although he found her extremely pretty and, what was more, intelligent, he had made no conscious effort to seek her out. It was a strange fact that two people could meet and feel instantly at ease with each other—more than that, feel as though they had known each other all their lives. Eustacia, sitting quietly beside him, was thinking exactly the same thing.
He smiled nicely when she thanked him, got out of the car and opened the gate for her and waited until she had unlocked the door and gone inside before driving himself back to the hospital, thinking about her. She was too good for the job she was doing, and like a beautiful fish out of water in that depressing little street.
He arrived back at St Biddolph’s and became immersed in the care of his patients, shutting her delightful image away in the back of his mind and keeping it firmly there.
CHAPTER TWO
THE path lab would be open over Christmas; accidents and sudden illness took no account of holidays. Eustacia was to work on Christmas Day morning and again on Boxing Day afternoon, sharing the days with the two porters. She went home on Christmas Eve much cheered by the good wishes and glass of sherry she had been offered before everyone left that evening. Once there, she opened the bottle of claret she had been hoarding and she and her grandfather toasted each other before they sat down to supper. She had bought a chicken for their Christmas dinner, and before she went to bed she prepared everything for the meal so that when she got back home the next day she would need only to put the food in the oven. In the morning she got up earlier than usual, laid the table and put the presents they had for each other beside the small Christmas tree, took her grandfather his breakfast and then hurried off to work. There was no one there save the night porter, who wished her a hasty ‘Merry Christmas’ before hurrying off duty. He hadn’t had to call anyone up during the night, he told her, and hoped that she would have a quiet morning.
Which indeed she did. Mr Brimshaw, arriving shortly afterwards, wished her a mumbled ‘Happy Christmas’ and went along to his office to deal with the paperwork, and Eustacia set about putting the place to rights, turning out cupboards and then making coffee. The telephone went incessantly but there were no emergencies; at one o’clock the second porter took over and Mr Brimshaw handed over to one of the assistants. Eustacia went to get her outdoor things, wished the porter a civil goodbye and made for the door just as one of the hospital porters came in with a parcel.
‘Miss Crump?’ he enquired. ‘I was to deliver this before you left.’
‘Me?’ Eustacia beamed at him. ‘You’re sure it’s for me?’
‘Name’s Crump, isn’t it?’
He went away again and she tucked the gaily packed box under her arm and went home, speculating all the way as to who it was from.
But first when she got home there was her present from her grandfather to open—warm red slippers; just what she needed, she declared, during the cold months of winter. After he had admired his waistcoat and gloves she opened her package. It had been wrapped in red paper covered with robins and tied with red ribbons, and she gave a great sigh of pleasure when she saw its contents: an extravagantly large box of handmade chocolates, festooned with yet more ribbons and covered in brocade. There was a card with it, written in a childish hand, ‘With Love from Oliver and Teddy.’
‘Well, really,’ said Eustacia, totally surprised. ‘But I only met them once, remember, Grandfather, at Kew…’
‘Children like to give presents to the people they like.’
‘I must write and thank them—only I don’t know where they live.’
‘They’re with their uncle, aren’t they? And with luck someone at the hospital will surely know his address.’
‘Yes, of course. What a lovely surprise. Have one while I start the dinner.’ She paused on her way to the kitchen. ‘It must have cost an awful lot, and they’re only children.’
‘I dare say they’ve been saving up—you know what children are.’ Her grandfather chose a chocolate with care and popped it into his mouth. ‘They’re delicious.’
They had their dinner presently and afterwards Eustacia went to church, and went back home to watch television until bedtime. Without saying anything to her grandfather she had hired a set, to his great delight, for he spent a good part of the day on his own and she guessed that he was sometimes lonely. If, later on, she couldn’t afford it, she could always return it—although, seeing the old man’s pleasure in it, she vowed to keep it at all costs. It was an extravagance, she supposed, and the money should perhaps be saved against a rainy day or the ever-worrying chance that she might lose her job. On the other hand, it was their one extravagance and did much to lighten their uneventful lives.
She went back to work the next day after their lunch. There were two of the staff on duty, cross-matching blood for patients due for operations the following day, doing blood counts and checking test meals. Eustacia made tea for them both, had a cup herself and busied herself restocking the various forms on each bench. That done, she put out clean towels, filled the soap containers and cleaned the sinks which had been used. She was to stay until six o’clock when the night porter would take over, and once the others had gone it was very quiet. She was glad when he came to spend a few minutes in cheerful talk before she took herself off home.
Everyone was short-tempered in the morning—too much to eat and drink, too little sleep and a generally jaundiced outlook on life cast gloom over the entire department. Miss Bennett found fault with very nearly everything, until Eustacia felt like flinging a tray of dishes and bottles on to the floor and walking out for good. She held her tongue and looked meek, and to her great surprise at the day’s end Miss Bennett rather grudgingly admitted that on the whole her work was quite satisfactory, adding sternly that there was to be no more slackness now that the festive season was over. ‘And a good thing it is,’ she observed. It was obvious to Eustacia that the poor woman found no joy in her life. Such a pity, one never knew what was round the corner.
It was halfway through January when she got home one evening to find, to her great astonishment, Sir Colin Crichton sitting all at ease opposite her grandfather’s armchair by the open fire. He got up when she went in and wished her a polite good evening, and she replied with a hint of tartness. She wasn’t looking at her best; it had been a busy day and she was tired, and, conscious that her hair was untidy and her face badly needed fresh make-up, the frown she turned upon him was really quite fierce and he smiled faintly.
‘I came to talk to you,’ he said to surprise her, ‘but if you are too tired…?’
She took up the challenge. ‘I am not in the least tired,’ she assured him, and then said suddenly, ‘Oh—is it about my job?’
He had sat down again and she glanced at her grandfather, who, beyond smiling at her when she kissed him, had remained silent.
‘Er—yes, to a certain extent.’
She took an indignant breath. She had worked hard at a job she really didn’t like and now she supposed she was to get the sack, although why someone as exalted as Sir Colin had to do it was beyond her.
He said in his quiet, deliberate voice, ‘No, it is not what you think it is, Miss Crump, but it would please me very much if you would give up your job in the path lab and come to work for me.’
‘Come to work for you?’ she echoed his words in a voice squeaky with surprise. And then added, ‘Why?’
‘My nephews,’ he explained. ‘They have both had flu, tonsillitis and nasty chests. It is obvious that London doesn’t agree with them, at least until they are fit again. I feel responsible for them while their mother and father are away, but I am rarely at home during the day and there is no question of their going back to school for several weeks. I have a home at Turville, just north of Henley. A very small village and quiet— I don’t go there as often as I would wish. I should like the boys to go there and I would be glad if you would go with them. They have taken to you in a big way, you know.’ He smiled his charming smile. ‘There is a housekeeper there, her husband does the garden and the odd jobs but they are both elderly and the boys need young company—a kind of elder sister? I think that you would fill that role exactly…’
Eustacia had her mouth open to speak and he went on calmly, ‘No, don’t interrupt—let me finish… I am not sure how long it might be before my brother returns—but at least two months, and at the end of that time you would have sufficient experience to get a post in a similar capacity. There is plenty of room for everyone; the Samwayses have their own quarters on the ground floor at the back of the house and adjoining it is a bedroom which Mr Crump could use. You yourself, Miss Crump, would have a room next to the boys on the first floor. Now as to salary…’ He mentioned a sum which made Eustacia gape at him.
‘That’s twice as much as I’m getting,’ she told him.
‘I can assure you that you will earn every penny of it. Do you know anything about little boys?’
‘No, I’m afraid not.’
He smiled. ‘But I believe that you would do very well with them. Will you consider it?’
She looked at her grandfather, and although he didn’t say anything she saw the eagerness in his face. ‘This flat?’ she asked. ‘It’s—it’s our home.’
‘You could continue to rent it. Naturally I do not expect you to pay for your rooms and food at Turville.’ He sounded disapproving and she blushed.
‘It is a very generous offer…’ she began, and he laughed then.
‘My dear girl, this is no sinecure. The boot will be on the other foot if you agree to take charge of the boys. Would you like time to think it over?’
She caught sight of her grandfather’s face again. ‘No, thank you, sir, I shall be glad to come.’ She was rewarded by the look on the old man’s face. ‘I shall have to give my notice. I don’t know how long…?’
‘Give in your notice and I’ll have a word. And don’t call me sir, it makes me feel old.’ He got to his feet. ‘I am most grateful for your help. You will hear from me as soon as the details are settled.’
She saw him to the door. ‘You’re quite sure…? she began as she opened it.
‘Quite sure. The boys will be delighted.’
She stood in the doorway and watched him drive away and then went back to her grandfather.
He quickly dispelled any vague doubts floating around in her head. ‘It couldn’t be better,’ he declared. ‘It is a splendid start; when you leave the boys you will have a good reference and plenty of experience. You will be qualified for an even better post.’
‘But Grandfather, what about you?’ She sat down at the table.
‘We still have this flat—there must be a job such as this one where one can live out.’ He allowed himself to dream a little. ‘You might even get a post in the country where there is a cottage or something similar where we might live.’
She had her doubts, but it would be unkind to throw cold water over his pleasure. She let him ramble on happily and hoped that she had done the right thing. After all, her job, although not to her liking, was, as far as she knew, safe enough, and she had earned enough to make their life a good deal easier than it had been. On the other hand, she wouldn’t need to buy food, they would live rent-free and she would be able to save a good deal of the money she earned.
‘I hope I’m doing the right thing,’ she muttered as she went to the kitchen to get their supper.
She went to see Miss Bennett the next morning and was surprised to find that that lady knew all about it. ‘You will have to work out your week’s notice,’ she told Eustacia, and her usually sharp voice was quite pleasant. ‘There will be no difficulty in replacing you—I have a list of applicants ready to jump into your shoes.’ She added even more surprisingly, ‘I hope you will be happy in your new job. You will have to see the professor before you go. You are on Saturday duty this week, are you not?’ And when Eustacia nodded, ‘So you will leave at six o’clock on that day.’
She nodded dismissal and Eustacia escaped to the quiet of the little cubby-hole where she washed the bottles and dishes and, while she cleaned and polished, she allowed her thoughts to wander. Sir Colin hadn’t said exactly when they were to go, but she hoped it wouldn’t be until Monday so that she would have time to pack their things and leave the flat pristine.
There was a letter for her the following morning. If her grandfather and she could be ready by Sunday afternoon directly after lunch, they would be fetched by car and driven to Turville; he trusted that this arrangement would be agreeable to her. The letter was typewritten, but he had signed it with a scrawl which she supposed was his signature.
She could see no reason why they should not go when it was suggested, so she wrote a polite little note saying that they would be ready when the car came, and went off to tell her grandfather.
She packed their clothes on Saturday evening, got up early on Sunday morning and did some last-minute ironing, shut the cases and set about seeing that the flat was left clean. There wasn’t time to cook lunch, so she opened a can of soup and made some scrambled eggs and was just nicely ready when the doorbell was rung.
She was surprised to find Sir Colin on the doorstep. He wished her good-day in his placid voice, exchanged a few words with her grandfather, helped him into the front seat and put their luggage in the boot, ushered her into the back and, without more ado, set off.
There was little traffic on the road. Just before they reached Henley, Sir Colin turned off on to a narrow road running between high hedges which led downhill into Turville. Eustacia saw with delight the black and white timbers of the Bull and Butcher Inn as they reached the village, drove round the small village green with its fringe of old cottages, past the church and down a very narrow lane with meadows on one side and a high flint wall on the other. The lane turned abruptly and they drove through an open gateway into a short, circular drive leading to a long, low house with many latticed windows and a stout wooden door, the whole enmeshed in dormant Virginia creeper, plumbago and wistaria. It would be a heavenly sight in the summer months, she thought; it was a delightful picture in mid-winter with its sparkling white paint and clay-tiled roofing. Sir Colin stopped the car before the door and it was immediately thrown open to allow the two boys to rush out, shouting with delight.
Sir Colin got out, opened Eustacia’s door and helped her out, and left her to receive the exuberant greetings of the little boys while he went to help her grandfather. A grey-haired man came out of the door to join him. ‘Ah, Samways, here are Mr and Miss Crump.’ And, as he smiled and bowed slightly, Sir Colin went on, ‘Pipe down, you two, and give a hand with the luggage.’
He had a quiet, almost placid voice and Eustacia saw that they did as they were told without demur. They all went indoors to the hall, which was wide and long with pale walls and a thick carpet underfoot. The graceful curved staircase faced them, flanked by a green baize door on the one side and on the other a glass door with a view of the garden beyond. It was pleasantly warm and fragrant with the scent of the hyacinths in the bowl on a delicate little wall-table.
Sir Colin said in his quiet voice, ‘Samways, if you would show Mr Crump to his room…’ He paused as the baize door opened and a small, stout woman bustled through. ‘Ah, Mrs Samways, will you take Miss Crump to her room? And if we all meet for tea in ten minutes or so?’
Eustacia watched her grandfather go off happily with Samways and then, with Mrs Samways leading the way and the two boys following behind, she went up the staircase. There was a wide landing at its top with passages leading from it, and Mrs Samways took the left-hand one, to open a door at its end. ‘The boys are just next door,’ she explained. ‘They have their own bathroom on the other side.’ She led the way across the large, low-ceilinged room and opened another door. ‘This is your bathroom, Miss Crump.’