A Star Looks Down. Betty Neels
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doorway. She peered round him as far as she could, and quite forgetful of her manners, demanded: ‘Where’s William?’
His bland: ‘Good evening, Miss Partridge,’ reminded her of them.
‘Oh, good evening, Professor. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to be rude—I thought you were William. Have you come to see him? He’s late, I’m afraid, but if you would like to come in and wait?’
He smiled down at her. ‘William has had to fill in for the Casualty Officer. He asked me to tell you that he won’t be home tonight.’
‘Oh.’ She stood uncertainly. ‘Then why—that is…’ She stopped, not quite sure what to say next. After all, he was a consultant, an important man at the hospital and probably even more important in his own country, and she wasn’t sure how she should address a professor off duty.
‘If I might come in?’ His voice was pleasantly friendly.
‘Of course. You—you took me rather by surprise.’ She led the way into the sitting room and he paused on its threshold and looked about him with interest, drawing an appreciative breath as he did so. ‘Toasted cheese?’ he inquired.
‘Supper,’ she told him succinctly, and waved a well kept hand towards a chair, then sat down herself, waiting patiently for him to say whatever it was he had to say.
‘Your brother was kind enough to tell Professor McDonald that you might consider looking after my sister’s children while she is in hospital,’ he began without any beating about the bush, ‘but before I say any more, I should like to know if the suggestion is agreeable to you. I understand from Professor MacDonald that you have a week’s holiday and I feel bound to point out that the job is no sinecure. I had intended applying to an agency for some sort of help, but I should very much prefer that it should be someone whom I know.’
‘But you don’t know me.’
‘You are thought of very highly at St Elmer’s, and I have seen for myself that you don’t flap.’
Beth blinked at him. ‘Are they the sort of children who might make one flap?’ she asked forthrightly.
He burst out laughing. ‘Perhaps, they need firm handling. What do you say?’
She studied him carefully. He was nice; never mind that he was one of the best-looking men she had ever met, never mind the charm of his smile and his deep, quiet voice; he would have been just as nice if he had had a squint and outstanding ears. His hair, she noticed, was grey at the temples and his eyes were very blue. ‘All right,’ she said quietly, ‘I’ll take them on. I’d like to know something about them though, and does your sister want me to live in or go each day?’
‘Oh, if you would live there, I think, and regarding your fee…’ he mentioned a sum which sent her arched brows flying upwards.
‘But that’s heaps too much—four times as much as nannies and people like that get.’
‘But you will have four times as much as that to do.’ He spoke firmly and she had the feeling that if she were to argue he would get annoyed.
‘Very well, thank you.’ She smiled across at him. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee?’
His reply astonished her. ‘I should like to stay to supper,’ he said.
She hadn’t been Miss Partridge of Chifney House for nothing, she hastened to invite him with just the right degree of pleasure and served the simple meal with an aplomb which would have done justice to something far more elaborate. ‘I’m afraid there’s no beer,’ she informed her guest, ‘but there’s orange squash…’
The professor assured her that orange squash was exactly what he would have chosen and when Beth poured him a glass of this innocuous beverage, drank it with every sign of enjoyment, he ate his portion of macaroni cheese with a flattering appetite too, talking gently about this and that, so that she hardly realized that she was answering any number of skilfully put questions. By the time they were drinking their coffee she had told him quite a lot about Chifney as well as revealing, quite unknowingly, a good deal about her stepbrother.
‘You have a pleasant home here,’ remarked the professor, and sounded as though he meant it, ‘and some delightful pieces of furniture.’
‘Aren’t they? Philip allowed us to bring them with us, you know. They don’t quite suit the flat, but we grew up with them.’ She poured more coffee for them both, feeling wonderfully at ease with this large, quiet man. She would have liked to have told him so many things and might have done so if she hadn’t reminded herself with her usual good sense that all good medical men had the power of making one feel at ease and able to talk freely. She frowned, hoping she hadn’t talked too much; perhaps she should change the conversation.
‘You were going to tell me something about your nephews and nieces,’ she prompted him.
‘Ah, yes—but first I think we should wash up.’
‘Wash up? Good heavens, no! I’m sure you’ve never washed up in your life.’
He smiled faintly. ‘I wonder what makes you think that?’ His voice held a note of inquiry and she flushed a little.
‘I didn’t mean to sound rude,’ she assured him, ‘and I can do it later.’
For answer he began to pile the plates tidily and carried them through to the kitchen, and it struck her that he was a man who, once he had made up his mind, didn’t like it changed for him. They washed up together, talking in a casual friendly way which she found very pleasant, then went back to the sitting room, where the professor settled himself in a chair again with the air of one staying for the rest of the evening.
‘About the children,’ he began, ‘the eldest is Dirk, he’s ten, then there is Marineka, who is eight, Hubert, seven and Alberdina, the littlest, who is five. They are normal healthy children, that is to say they are as naughty and disobedient as most children of their ages. On the whole their manners are passable, they don’t sulk and I should say that they have a strong sense of fair play. They adore their mother, who spoils them, and hero-worship their father, an archaeologist of some repute, at present somewhere in Chile leading an expedition of some sort or other. He will be away for several more weeks, and since I had already accepted an invitation from St Elmer’s to give a series of lectures, Martina—my sister—decided that it would be a good idea if they were to come over to England at the same time. The children, by the way, speak tolerable English; they had an English nanny until she left to get married a short time ago.’ He paused to smile. ‘You are still willing to come?’
Beth’s wide mouth turned up its corners in a delightful smile. ‘Oh, yes. When do you want me to start?’
‘I am told that your holiday starts on Sunday.’ He paused to ask if he might light his pipe and Beth sat composedly watching him, saying nothing, and presently he went on: ‘There is a housekeeper and daily help, but they aren’t suitable for the children—besides, they have enough to do. You would have to be with them for most of the day, although I will undertake to have them with me if and when I am there. You are prepared for that?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she assured him. What was curtailed freedom when it meant William’s new shoes and some clothes for herself as well? ‘I’ve days off on Friday and Saturday. I could go along on Friday afternoon if you would like that. Where am I to go?’
He scribbled an address in his pocket book, tore out the page, and handed it to her. ‘Take a taxi,’ he advised her, ‘your expenses will be paid.’
She glanced at the address he had written down and then looked again because his writing was almost illegible. William had been right, it was somewhere close to Harrods—a rented house, presumably—possibly someone he knew; doctors helped each other… She was aware that he had got to his feet and jumped up briskly. ‘It was kind of you to come—I quite thought you had found someone else.’
She smiled as she spoke, but he answered seriously: