Rags To Riches Collection. Rebecca Winters
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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.
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?’