Rags To Riches Collection. Rebecca Winters

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      Her cousin answered. ‘I’ve had a letter from mother,’ began Araminta. ‘It was a bit of a surprise. I’m catching the five o’clock train from here, so I’ll be home for supper…’

      There was silence for a few minutes. ‘Araminta, I won’t be here. Didn’t your mother tell you? No, of course, she would have forgotten. I’m on the point of leaving—Great Aunt Kate is ill and I’m going to Bristol to nurse her. I’ve left food in the fridge and Cherub is being looked after until you come. I’m sorry, dear. Your mother and father left in a hurry and I don’t suppose they thought… Could you not stay with friends? I’ll come back just as soon as I can.’

      Araminta found her voice; it didn’t sound quite like hers, but she forced it to sound cheerful. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be quite glad of a quiet time after rushing round here. I’ll look up some friends in the village. I’m sorry you won’t be at home, and I hope Christmas won’t be too busy for you.’

      She must end on a bright note. ‘My taxi’s just arrived and I mustn’t keep it waiting. Let me know how you get on. I’ll be at home for a couple of weeks, and you may be back by then.’ She added, ‘Happy Christmas,’ with false brightness.

      The taxi had arrived. It was too early for the train but she had planned to leave her luggage at the station and have tea in the town. Now all she wanted was to go somewhere and sit as far away from people as possible. She didn’t want to think, not yet. First she must come to terms with disappointment.

      She got into the taxi. ‘Will you drive me along the promenade? I’ll tell you where I want to be put down.’

      It was dusk already, and cold. The promenade was bare of people and only a handful of cars were on it. Away from the main street it was quiet, only the sound of the sea and the wind whistling down a side street. She asked the driver to stop and got out, took her case and bag, then paid him, assuring him that this was where she wished to be, and watched him drive away.

      She crossed the road to a shelter facing the sea. It was an old-fashioned edifice, with its benches sheltered from the wind and the rain by a roof and glassed-in walls. She put her luggage down and sat down in one corner facing the sea. It was cold, but she hadn’t noticed that; she was arranging her thoughts in some kind of order. Just for a short time she allowed disappointment to engulf her, a disappointment all the more bitter because she hadn’t really expected it—nor would it have been as bad if she had gone home to a loving family, waiting to welcome her.

      ‘Wallowing in self-pity will do you no good, my girl,’ said Araminta loudly. ‘I must weigh the pros and cons.’

      She ticked them off on her gloved fingers. ‘I have some money, I have a home to go to, I can get another job after Christmas, Mother and Father…’ She faltered. ‘And there is Cherub waiting for me.’

      Those were the pros, and for the moment she refused to think of anything else. But presently she had to, for she couldn’t sit there for the rest of the evening and all night. The idea of going home to an empty house was something she couldn’t face for the moment, although she could see that there was nothing else that she could do. She had friends in the village, but she had lost contact with them; her parents were liked and respected, but hardly neighbourly. There was no one to whom she could go and beg to stay with, especially at Christmas, when everyone had family and friends staying.

      The tears she had been swallowing back crawled slowly down her cheeks.

      The doctor was well aware that school had broken up, and upon which day Araminta would be going home for the holidays; old Mrs Gardiner had been delighted to have another little gossip when she had visited him at his consulting rooms. She had even volunteered the information that the teaching staff and the matrons stayed at the school for an extra day in order to leave everything tidy. And she had added, ‘Miriam—my daughter-in-law—told me that the matrons stay until the late afternoon. They have a good deal to see to, but she is always glad when they have gone and the school is empty. I shall be going there for Christmas, of course.’

      It took a good deal of planning, but by dint of working early and late the doctor achieved his object. By two o’clock he was driving away from St Jules’, on his way to Eastbourne.

      Araminta had left the school ten minutes before he stopped before its gates.

      ‘Gone to catch the five o’clock train,’ the maid who answered his ring told him. ‘I said she was too early, but she was going to have tea somewhere first.’

      The doctor thanked her with a civility which quite belied his feelings, then drove into the town, parked the car and began his search. The station first, and then every tea room, café, restaurant and snack bar. Araminta had disappeared into thin air in the space of half an hour or so.

      The doctor went back to the station. He was tired, worried and angry, but nothing of his feelings showed on his face. He searched the station again, enquired at the ticket office, questioned the porters and went back to the entrance. There was a row of taxis lined up, waiting for the next train from London, and he went from one to the other, making his enquiries in a calm unhurried manner.

      The third cabby, lolling beside his cab, took a cigarette out of his mouth to answer him.

      ‘Young lady? With a case? Booked to go to the station, but changed her mind. Looking for her, are you?’

      ‘Yes, will you tell me where you took her?’

      ‘Well, now, I could do that, but I don’t know who you are, do I?’

      ‘You’re quite right to ask. My name is van der Breugh. I’m a doctor. The young lady’s name is Miss Araminta Pomfrey. She is my future wife. If you will take me to her, you could perhaps wait while we talk and then bring us back here. My car is in the car park.’ He smiled. ‘If you wish you may accompany me when I meet her.’

      The man stared at him. ‘I’ll take you and I’ll wait.’

      Araminta, lost in sad thoughts, didn’t hear the taxi, and didn’t hear the doctor’s footsteps. Only when he said quietly, ‘Hello, Mintie,’ did she look up, her mouth open and her eyes wide. All she said was, ‘Oh.’

      It was apparently enough for the doctor. He picked up her case and the plastic bag and said in a brisk voice, ‘It’s rather chilly here. We’ll go somewhere and have a cup of tea.’

      ‘No,’ said Araminta, then added, ‘I’m going home.’

      ‘Well, of course you are. Come along, the taxi’s waiting.’

      The utter surprise of seeing him had addled her wits. She crossed the road and got into the taxi, and when the cabby asked, ‘OK, miss?’ she managed to give him a shaky smile. She was cold, her head felt empty, and it was too much trouble to think for the moment. She sat quietly beside Marcus until the taxi stopped before a tea room, its lighted windows welcoming in the dark evening. She stood quietly while the doctor paid the cabby, picked up her luggage, opened the tea room door and sat her down at a table.

      The place was half full, for it was barely five o’clock, and it was warm and cosy with elderly waitresses carrying loaded trays. The doctor gave his order, took off his overcoat, then leaned across and unbuttoned her jacket, and in those few minutes Araminta had pulled herself together.

      ‘I do not know why you have brought me here,’ she said frostily.

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