A Happy Meeting. Betty Neels
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hand came down on hers, firm and warm. ‘The rest of the day is my own. I’ll drive you home.’
At the gates she asked him, ‘Would you like to come in? Moggy will make a pot of tea…’
He had got out of the car too and stood looking down at her. ‘I should have liked that but I’m going into Yeovil to collect the dog. Have you any ideas about a name?’
‘Well, no. Oughtn’t he to have a Dutch name since he’s to live in Holland?’
‘He is English; he should have a name which is common to both countries.’
‘Caesar?’
‘That would do very nicely. It will suit him, too; he bids fair to be a large beast when he is grown.’
Cressida put out a hand. ‘I’m so glad he’s going to be looked after. That’s wonderful; thank you again for all you’ve done. Goodbye.’
The hand holding hers felt reassuringly large and secure. She wished very much that the doctor wasn’t going away. He would forget her, of course, but knowing him even for such a short time had been pleasant.
He waited by the car until she reached the door and went inside, turning to give a final wave as she did so.
She didn’t tell Moggy about the will. First she would write to Mr Tims; it would never do to raise the dear soul’s hopes until she had heard from him. Over their tea they talked about the dog and the splendid home he would have when he travelled to Holland.
‘Lucky beast,’ said Miss Mogford with a good deal of feeling.
Dr van der Linus found his grandmother sitting in her high-backed armchair by a brisk fire. The weather was still fine and sunny, but, as she pointed out cheerfully, arthritis and old age needed warmth.
He bent to kiss her cheek. ‘My dear, you are one of those lucky people who never grow old; you’re really a very pretty lady, you know.’
‘Go on with you! Buttering me up… What have you been doing with yourself?’
‘Working.’ He sat down opposite her. ‘Grandmother, do you know of a Mr Tims of Sherborne?’
‘Of course I do. He is my solicitor, has been for years—must be all of seventy.’
‘Do you suppose he would allow me the sight of Mr Preece’s will?’
‘Been to see that girl again, have you?’ Lady Merrill’s old eyes twinkled with amusement.
‘I met her on the road as I was coming here. She looked like a small wet hen. I gave her a lift home and got her to talk. I fancy Mrs Preece has—shall we say?—misunderstood the terms of the will…’ He explained briefly and his grandmother nodded in quick understanding.
‘So if she has been misleading the girl and the housekeeper things can be put right, the housekeeper can leave and the girl will be free to find herself a job.’ Her old face puckered in thought. ‘What kind of a job would a wet hen be able to get?’
The doctor laughed. ‘I think that if she were free and independent she might begin to look like any other girl. Have you any ideas?’
‘I’ll think about it. Go and phone George Tims and then come and play cribbage?’
Mr Tims was co-operative. The doctor might pop in any time he chose during the next day. Dr van der Linus went back to the drawing-room and bent his powerful mind to the problem of allowing his grandmother to win without her suspecting it.
Undoubtedly there had been a misunderstanding, Mr Tims assured the doctor the following morning; Miss Mogford was free to leave when she wished and would receive her legacy without delay. ‘Mrs Preece will miss her; she has been with the family for many years and will be hard to replace. Mrs Preece is a delicate lady, unable to do a great deal, but of course she will have Cressida—such a sensible girl.’
The doctor agreed blandly and drove back to the house. The little wet hen deserved a chance. She was, he supposed, possessed of the normal skills of a well-educated girl; she should have no difficulty in getting herself a job, but what as? She knew nothing about computers; he felt sure of that. Probably she couldn’t type or do shorthand, and she would be no good as a nurse; far too small for a start and with far too soft a heart. Not that he approved of nurses who didn’t have soft hearts, that was a vital part of being a decent nurse—but he suspected that she would allow personal sympathy with the patient to supplant nursing expertise. It would have to be something around the house, he thought vaguely. Were there companions nowadays? He wasn’t sure, but there were au pairs from whom all that was required was common sense, an ability to do chores around the house, like children and animals and be willing to babysit. He knew that; various of his married friends had them. She would have a roof over her head too…
He was turning in at Lady Merrill’s gate when he found the answer.
Over dinner he told his grandmother what he had in mind. ‘I shall want your help, my dear,’ he added.
Lady Merrill listened carefully. ‘This is really rather fun. You do realise that I shall have to do this through a third person? I cannot appear on Mrs Preece’s doorstep out of the blue. Let me see, Audrey Sefton knows her. Leave it to me, Aldrik. Is the girl presentable?’
He leaned back in his chair. ‘She has a pretty voice and nice manners. Beautiful eyes and no looks. I suppose dressed in the right clothes she would do very well in the most exacting of households.’
‘Yes, dear—but how does she get these clothes if she has no money?’
‘I’ll see Mr Tims. A small sum held in some sort of reserve for her use or something similar.’
His grandmother gave him a sharp look. ‘You’re going to a great deal of trouble, my dear. She would probably get herself some sort of work if she were left to do so.’
‘Oh, I’m sure she would. I shall be going up to Friesland in any case and I’ll see Charity and Tyco. Charity might like company for a few months, at least until the baby is born, and that will give Cressida time to look around and decide what she wants to do.’
‘Yes, dear? Will you stay up there?’
‘I’ve no appointments there until the middle of the month. I’m tied up in Leiden almost as soon as I get back. That will give me a chance to see something of Nicola…’
‘I’m sure she will be pleased to see you again. There’s nothing definite, I suppose, dear?’
‘No, Grandmother. We are both sensible people; a deep regard and a full knowledge of each other’s character seems to me to be essential before marrying.’ It sounded pompous but he disarmed her with a grin.
His grandmother gave him a loving look. He was her very favourite grandchild and she wanted him to be happy. He loved his work as a consultant physician and he was very successful. He had money, friends, and those who worked for him liked him. All very well, she thought, but he has no idea what it is like to be in love. Nicola was a cold fish, elegant and witty and wanting, Lady Merrill suspected, only a secure place in her comfortable world, never mind the romance.
He left the next day, promising to come and see her as soon as he could spare a few days. ‘I’ll be driving Mama over before Christmas,’ he promised her.
Two days later Mrs Preece came down to breakfast looking annoyed. ‘So vexing—I had planned to go into Yeovil and do some shopping; now that wretched Mr Tims wants to call this morning. Hurry up and eat your breakfast, Cressida, and get a tray ready. If he doesn’t stay I’ll still have time to go. Bring the coffee as soon as he gets here.’
Cressida went to the kitchen, laid a tray for coffee and told Miss Mogford, ‘Half-past ten, he said in his letter. She didn’t tell me why, papers to sign, I expect.’
Mr Tims arrived punctually and Mrs Preece, eager to get to Yeovil, didn’t keep him waiting. Cressida carried in the coffee, wished