Winter of Change. Бетти Нилс
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that no, it was not possible for his uncle to fulfil the duties of a guardian. ‘And,’ he concluded, and his voice now held a ring of authority and firmness, ‘if you have said all you wished to say, may I suggest that you have a rest? We shall remain within call. Rest assured that your wishes shall be carried out when the time comes.’
Mary Jane, without quite knowing how, found herself propelled gently from the room, but halfway down the stairs she paused. ‘It’s so unnecessary!’ she cried. ‘Surely I can run this house and look after my own money—and it’s miles for you to come,’ she gulped. ‘And talking about it like this, it’s beastly…’
He ignored that, merely saying coolly, ‘I hardly think you need to worry about my too frequent visits.’ He smiled a small, mocking smile and she felt vaguely insulted so that she flushed and ran on down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she found Mrs Body, unpacking her shopping. She looked up as Mary Jane rushed in and said: ‘Hullo, Miss Mary Jane, what’s upset you? The Colonel isn’t…?’
‘He’s about the same. It’s that man—Mr van der Blocq—we don’t seem to get on very well.’ She stood in front of the housekeeper, looking rather unhappily into her motherly face. ‘Do you know him?’
‘Lor’, yes, my dear—he’s been here twice in the last few months, and a year or two ago he came with that friend of your grandfather’s, the nice old gentleman who lives in Holland—he’s ill too, so I hear.’
Mary Jane waved this information on one side. ‘He’s staying,’ she said. ‘I don’t know for how long. I made up a bed in the other turret room. Ought we to do something about dinner?’
‘Don’t you worry about that, Miss Mary Jane—the Colonel told me that he’d be coming, so I’ve a nice meal planned. If you’ll just set the table later on—but time enough for that. Supposing you go for a little walk just down to the lake and back. You’ll hear me call easily enough and a breath of air will do you good before tea.’
Mary Jane made for the door and flung it open. She had a great deal to think about; it was a pity she had no one to confide in; she hadn’t got used to the fact that her grandfather was dying, nor his matter-of-fact attitude towards that fact, and the strain of matching his manner with her own was being a little too much for her. She wandered down the garden, resolutely making herself think about the house and the future. She didn’t care about the money, just as long as there was enough to keep everything going as her grandfather would wish it to be. She stopped to lean over a low stone wall, built long ago for some purpose or other but now in disuse. The Colonel, a keen gardener, had planted it with a variety of rock plants, but it had no colour now. She leaned her elbows on its uneven surface and gazed out to the lake and Skiddaw beyond, not seeing them very clearly for the tears which blurred her eyes. It was silly to cry; her grandfather disliked crying women, he had told her so on various occasions. She brushed her hand across her face and noted in a detached way that the mountains had a sprinkling of snow on their tops while the rest of them looked grey and misty and sad. She wished, like a child, that time might be turned back, that somehow or other today could have been avoided. Despite herself, her eyes filled with tears again; she wasn’t a crying girl, but just for once she made no attempt to stop them.
Major had followed her out of the house, and sat close to her now, pressed against her knee, and when he gave a whispered bark she wiped her eyes hastily and turned round. Mr van der Blocq was close by, just standing there, looking away from her, across the lake. He spoke casually. ‘You have had rather a shock, haven’t you? You must be a little bewildered. May I venture to offer you a modicum of advice?’ He went on without giving her a chance to speak. ‘Don’t worry about the future for the moment. It’s not a bad idea, in circumstances such as these, to live from one day to the next and make the best of each one.’
He was standing beside her now, still not looking at her tear-stained face, and when she didn’t reply he went on, still casually:
‘Major hasn’t had a walk, has he? Supposing we give him a run for a short while?’
Mary Jane, forgetful of the deplorable condition of her face, looked up at him. ‘I don’t like to go too far away…’
‘Nor do I, but Mrs Body has promised to shout if she needs us—she’s sitting with your grandfather now, and I imagine we could run fast enough if we needed to.’ He smiled at her and just for a moment she felt warmed and comforted.
‘All right,’ she agreed reluctantly, ‘if you say so,’ and started off along the edge of the lake, Major at her heels, not bothering to see if Mr van der Blocq was following her.
They walked into the wind, not speaking much and then only about commonplace things, and as they turned to go back again Mary Jane had to admit to herself that she felt better—not, she hastened to remind herself, because of her companion but probably because she had needed the exercise and fresh air. She went straight to her grandfather’s room when they got back to the house, but he was still sleeping, so obedient to Mrs Body’s advice she went to the sitting room and had tea with her visitor. They spoke almost as seldom as they had done during their walk; indeed, she formed the opinion that her companion found her boring and hardly worthy of his attention, for although his manners were not to be faulted she had the strongest feeling that they were merely the outcome of courtesy; in other circumstances he would probably ignore her altogether. She sighed without knowing it and got up to feed Major.
When she got back to the sitting room, Mr van der Blocq got to his feet and with the excuse that he had telephone calls to make and letters to write, went away to the Colonel’s study, which, he was careful to explain, his host had put at his disposal, leaving Mary Jane to wander out to the kitchen to help Mrs Body and presently to lay the table in the roomy, old-fashioned dining room before going up to peep once more at her sleeping grandfather before changing from her slacks and sweater into a grey wool dress she had fortuitously packed, aware as she did so of the murmur of voices from the Colonel’s room.
She frowned at her reflection as she smoothed her hair into its neat bun and did her face. If Mr van der Blocq had wakened her grandfather in order to pester him with more papers, then she would have something to say to him! He came out of the adjoining room as she left her own, giving her a wordless nod and standing aside for her to go down the stairs. She waited until they were both in the hall before she said: ‘I think you must be tiring Grandfather very much. I don’t think he should be disturbed any more today—there’s surely no need.’
He paused on his way to the study. ‘My dear good girl, may I remind you that I am a qualified physician as well as a surgeon, and as such am aware of your grandfather’s condition—better, I must remind you, than you yourself.’ He looked down his long nose at her. ‘Be good enough not to interfere.’
Mary Jane’s bosom heaved, her nice eyes sparkled with temper. ‘Well, really it’s not your business…’
He interrupted her. ‘Oh, but it is, unfortunately. I am here at your grandfather’s request to attend to his affairs—at his urgent request, I should remind you, before he should die, and here you are telling me what to do and what not to do. You’re a tiresome girl.’
With which parting shot, uttered in his perfect, faintly accented English, he went into the study, closing the door very gently behind him.
Mary Jane, a gentle-natured girl for the most part, flounced into the sitting room, and quite beside herself with temper, poured herself a generous measure of whisky. It was a drink she detested, but now it represented an act of defiance, she tossed off a second glass too. It was unfortunate that Mr van der Blocq chose to return after five minutes, by which time the whisky’s effects upon her hungry inside were at their highest; by then her head was feeling decidedly strange and her feet, when she walked to a chair, didn’t quite touch the floor. It was unfortunate too that he saw this the moment he entered the room and observed coldly, ‘Good God, woman, can’t I turn my back for one minute without you reaching for the whisky bottle—you reek of it!’ An exaggeration so gross that she instantly suspected that he had been spying upon her.
She said carefully in a resentful voice, ‘You’re