Year's Happy Ending. Betty Neels
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perhaps. She wondered who he was; if he was an intruder she couldn’t do much about it now, but he looked different suddenly, serious and worried, his voice was different too, no longer casual and so amused. He got the number and asked for Mrs Burns and then said: ‘Peggy? what’s wrong? I got back a couple of days early and came to see you. There’s a small gorgon here, defending your children with her life’s blood…’
He stood listening while Peggy talked. ‘I’m coming over right away. No I didn’t get your cable—I’d already left. I’ll be with you in a couple of hours, maybe a good deal less.’
He listened again and turned to look at Deborah. ‘Coping very well, I should have said; starched backbone and a mouth like a rat trap. I’d hate to be in her bad books.’ And then ‘Hang on love, I’ll be with you in no time at all.’
He put the phone down. ‘Any chance of a cup of coffee and a sandwich?’ He smiled suddenly and she almost forgave him for calling her a gorgon, then she remembered the rat trap. ‘Certainly Mr…’ She gave him a steely look and he smiled again. ‘Peggy’s brother, Gideon Beaufort. And you?’
‘Nanny,’ said Deborah coldly and went away to the kitchen, where she made a pot of coffee and cut sandwiches, by now in a very nasty temper, not improved by his appearance through the door and the manner in which he wolfed the sandwiches as fast as she could cut them. She banged a mug and the coffee pot down in front of him, put milk and sugar within reach and said frostily: ‘Excuse me, I’m going upstairs to the children.’
She crept into the night nursery and found them asleep, their small flushed faces looking angelic. She tucked in blankets, went to close one of the windows a little and let out a soundless squeak as a large hand came down on her shoulder. ‘Nice, aren’t they?’ whispered their uncle. ‘Little pests when they are awake of course.’
Deborah had got her breath back. ‘I might have screamed,’ she hissed almost soundlessly, ‘frightening me like that, you should know better…’ She glared up at him. ‘I thought you were in a hurry to see your mother?’
He was serious again. ‘I am, but I missed lunch and tea and jet lag was catching up on me. I’m going now. You’re all right on your own?’
‘Mary will be back later, thank you. Besides I have a definitely starched backbone and a mouth like a rat trap, haven’t I? That should put the most hardened criminal off.’
‘Did I say that? Next time we meet I’ll apologise handsomely.’
They were in the hall, he gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder and opened the door. He went without another word, not even goodbye. She heard a car start up outside but she didn’t go to a window to see it. She never wanted to see the wretch again. Rude, arrogant, bent on scaring the hair off her head. She went to the dining room and gave herself a glass of sherry and then went round the house, locking the doors and shutting the windows. If anyone else rang the bell she had no intention of answering it. She got her supper, sitting over it reading a novel from the well-stocked bookshelves, and then fed Deirdre and settled her for the night. The twins were out cold, humped untidily in their beds. She tucked them in and dropped a kiss on their rosy cheeks and then went downstairs again to wait for Mary; somehow she didn’t fancy going to bed until that lady was back.
Mary came home just after eleven o’clock. It had been a marvellous wedding, she told Deborah, the bride had looked beautiful and so had the bridesmaids; she didn’t mention the bridegroom—a necessary but unnoticed cog in the matrimonial wheel. And lovely food she continued, accepting the coffee which Deborah thoughtfully put before her. The drink must have been lovely too; Mary was going to have a nasty head in the morning. It hardly seemed the time to tell her about Mr Beaufort, but Mary, revived by the hot drink, wanted to know what sort of a day she had had, and Deborah, skimming lightly over the gorgon and rat trap bits, told her.
‘Such a nice gentleman,’ observed Mary, still a bit muzzy, ‘I’ve known him for a long time now, always so polite and so good with the children.’
She looked at Deborah and smiled and Deborah smiled back; she would hardly have described Mr Beaufort’s manners as polite although she was fair enough to hold back her judgment on his avuncular affability. She gave Mary another cup of coffee and then urged her to her bed. However much they might want to sleep late in the morning, there would be no chance; the twins would see to that, and Deirdre, although a placid baby, was unlikely to forego her morning feed.
The twins, bursting with energy, made sure that Deborah was up early. There was no sign of Mary as Deborah made herself a cup of tea and debated whether to take one to the housekeeper, but decided to wait for another hour and feed Deirdre while the twins got themselves dressed. She thanked heaven for Deirdre’s placid disposition as she washed unwilling faces and squeezed toothpaste out on to brushes; the baby was already asleep again which would give her time to give the twins their breakfast, and with any luck, allow her to bolt a slice of toast herself. By some miracle they were ready when Aunty Doris arrived; Deborah handed them over clean, well fed and with shining faces and nipped indoors again to take a cup of tea to Mary.
‘I have a headache,’ said Mary predictably.
‘I brought you a couple of aspirin, if you take them now and lie still for ten minutes or so, it’ll go. Do you fancy breakfast? I’m going to make some toast presently, after I’ve bathed Dee and put her into the pram. I’ll make you a slice.’
They sat down together presently in the kitchen with Dee in her pram, banging a saucepan lid with a spoon. Rather hard on Mary.
Mrs Burns rang during the morning. Her mother was better, she told Deborah, and it had been wonderful to see her brother, ‘So unexpected—I mean I’d sent him a cable—I couldn’t phone because I wasn’t quite sure where he was, but I didn’t think he’d get here for a few days. He’s been marvellous; seen the doctors and found another nurse so that I don’t have to stay up at night and he’s going to stay until Mother’s well enough to go to a Nursing Home, and by then Bill should be home, so I don’t have to worry. You’re all right, Nanny, no problems?’
I have problems, thought Deborah, one of them is having a rat trap for a mouth, but out loud she said, with her usual calm, ‘No, none, Mrs Burns. The children are splendid and Dee is such an easy baby.’ Then added for good measure, ‘And Mary is super.’
‘Oh, good. Gideon seemed to think that you were managing very well. I think I’ll be here for at least a week, perhaps a little longer than that. Will you manage until then? Get anything you need at the village stores, I’ve an account there. Oh, and will you ask Mary to send on some undies and another dress? The grey cotton jersey will do—I’ve almost nothing with me.’
Deborah hung up and handed the message on, reflecting that it must be nice to have people to do things for you; she suspected that Mrs Burns had always had that from the moment she was born and kindly fate had handed her a doting husband who carried on the good work. Probably the horrible brother was her slave too, although, upon reflection, she couldn’t imagine him being anyone’s slave.
She had no time to reflect for long, however, Mary’s headache had gone but she was still lethargic so that Deborah found it prudent to do as much around the house as she could. At least dinner was almost ready by the time the twins were brought back, both in furious tears and looking as though their clothes hadn’t been changed for a couple of weeks. ‘They had a little upset,’ explained Aunty Doris with false sweetness, ‘they’re such lively little people.’
There was nothing for it but to be patient and put them into the bath, wheedle them into clean clothes and lastly load the washing machine once more, before sitting them down to a delayed dinner which they stubbornly refused to eat.
But after a long walk in the afternoon they cheered up, ate a splendid tea and went to their beds, looking too good to be true.
By the end of the next two days they had accepted Deborah as a great friend, a firm friend who didn’t allow them to have their own way, but who nevertheless was good fun. The days had settled into a routine, a rather dull one for Deborah but busy with washing