A Dream Came True. Бетти Нилс
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done,’ said Jemima chidingly. ‘I told you that specs would be easier for you.’ She got down on her knees and picked up the broken chain. ‘I’ll get some thread and tie the links together until we can get it mended.’
Lady Manderly was opening and closing her mouth like a dying fish, struggling to get out words. At last she managed: ‘You are a forward girl…’
‘I don’t mean to be,’ said Jemima, and smiled nicely at the cross face.
‘Would you like me to read to you first this morning, there don’t seem to be many letters.’ She glanced at the unopened pile on the desk.
‘Very well,’ said Lady Manderly ungraciously, and then: ‘Really, I don’t know if you will suit, Miss Mason.’
Jemima’s heart sank, but she turned a calm face to her employer.
‘Would you like me to draft another advertisement?’ she asked matter-of-factly.
Lady Manderly bristled. ‘You don’t like your work here? You wish to leave?’
‘Me? Heavens, no! I’m very happy, you see I had an invalid mother to look after for a few years and I—I miss caring for someone.’
Lady Manderly’s rather protuberant eyes popped out still further and for once she had no answer. Jemima hadn’t expected one, she skimmed through the news, picking out the choicest bits. ‘Shall I start reading, Lady Manderly?’ she asked.
‘Yes, you may do so, Miss Mason. You say that you are happy here—that being so, I am prepared to overlook your lateness this morning. After all, my nephew seems to think that you are a good enough young woman.’
‘How very kind of him,’ said Jemima softly and her fine eyes sparkled with temper at the arrogance of it.
‘So you will stay?’ asked Lady Manderly, and Jemima detected the tiniest hint of wistfulness in the commanding voice.
‘Yes, I’d like to, Lady Manderly.’ She smiled at the lady and picked up the paper. ‘There is a report on the PM’s speech—shall I read it to you first?’
The morning went as usual after that, and at lunch time, Lady Manderly made gracious conversation, presumably offering an olive branch of sorts. Jemima was a good listener; they rose from the table in charity with each other and Jemima, having seen Lady Manderly safely tucked up in the drawing room, whisked herself out of the house with Coco, just as eager for a walk as she was.
It was almost six o’clock, and Jemima was just finishing the last of the letters when the phone rang.
‘You leave at five o’clock, do you not?’ asked the Professor into her ear.
‘No, I don’t, Professor.’ Remembering that he had called her a good enough young woman, she asked in a freezing voice: ‘You wish to speak to Lady Manderly?’
‘No, not particularly, I thought you might like to know that the little cat is recovering nicely. Have you attempted to find out if it belongs to anyone?’
‘How could I do that?’ she asked with a snap. ‘I’ve had no time at all. I’ll go round to every house this evening when I’m free to do so.’
‘If you hadn’t taken me up so sharply, I would have continued,’ said the Professor mildly. ‘The cat is obviously a stray, ill cared for and half starved. If I might suggest—without my head being bitten off—that she remains with the vet until she is quite well, then if you wish to have her you can do so, if not, we must find a good home for her.’
‘Oh, yes—well, that would be nice, but the vet won’t keep her for nothing? Will he? Could I have his phone number or his name—the bill, you know.’
‘I thought I had made myself clear already, Miss Mason. He doesn’t charge for emergency treatment, and I will settle the account…’
Jemima said suddenly: ‘You’re an endocrinologist, aren’t you? Belling told me. Do you use cats to—to experiment on? Because if that’s the reason…’
His voice cut through hers like cold steel. ‘Miss Mason, I do not, as you put it, use cats. I never have done nor do I intend to, but since you are determined to think the worst of me I suggest we end our conversation.’
He hung up before she could so much as draw breath.
She licked down the last envelope, wondering if she had hurt his feelings—or was he a man with feelings to hurt? Just his pride perhaps. In any case she would have to apologise. She picked up the letters to post and went along to the drawing room to wish Lady Manderly goodnight and went slowly out of the house and down the street.
‘Bother the man,’ she muttered, ‘I hope I never see him again!’ The thought was a little lowering for some reason; she brightened visibly when she remembered that she would have to in order to apologise.
CHAPTER THREE
JEMIMA DIDN’T SEE HIM for a whole week; although he did in fact leave a message with Belling on two occasions, letting her know that the little cat was making progress. And when she did see him again, he had Gloria with him; they arrived one early afternoon just as Jemima was about to take Coco for her walk. Gloria was wearing a dashing tartan outfit with long leather boots which must have cost the earth. She had a fetching, slightly ridiculous hat perched on her lovely head and wore the smug expression of one who knows she looks as near perfection as possible. As well she might, conceded Jemima sourly, aware of her own shortcomings.
Gloria grinned at her and waved an airy hand. ‘Hullo there, how’s a life of toil suiting you, darling?’ She eyed her with a faintly malicious smile. ‘You could do with a visit to the hairdresser, if you don’t mind my saying so.’
Jemima bent to fasten Coco’s lead on to the silly jewel-studded collar. Words, heated words, jostled on her tongue, but she had no intention of allowing them to be uttered. She was rather red in the face as she straightened up, but she managed a smile.
‘No time,’ she said with false cheerfulness, and made for the street door. The Professor was standing just inside it, apparently wrapped in thought, and she went past him without looking at him. It was a surprise therefore when he opened it for her and joined her on the pavement.
‘The little cat is well enough to leave the vet,’ he told her blandly. ‘I’ll fetch her this evening and bring her to your flat.’
Jemima stood staring up at him, unaware of the horror on her face. He saw it and wondered with a faint spark of interest why it was there.
‘Oh, well,’ she said in a rush, ‘I—I haven’t told my landlady—she might not…that is…’
‘I should anticipate no difficulty, Miss Mason, unless you live in a council flat.’
‘No, no, I don’t.’
‘Then there should be nothing to worry you.’ He waited a bit to see if she was going to tell him what the difficulty was, but when she didn’t speak: ‘I will meet you here at six o’clock.’
Jemima sought feverishly for an excuse and could think of none—not that it mattered; he had turned on his heel and gone back into the house before she had got her addled wits working.
She spent the rest of the afternoon examining various wholly unsatisfactory ways of getting out of the mess, and rejecting them in turn, to the detriment of her work, so that Lady Manderly had the satisfaction of calling her to order several times.
Six o’clock came too soon, and when she suggested that she should stay a little while and check the grocery bills due to be paid, she was told quite sharply to go home at once. She took as long as she could to leave the house, going back twice on trumped-up excuses, but in the end, almost fifteen minutes late, she had to open the door, buoyed up with the very faint hope that the Professor had got sick of waiting for her.
He hadn’t. There was the Rolls, parked opposite with him at the wheel. He