An Old Fashioned Girl. Betty Neels

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СКАЧАТЬ der Beek, his notes carefully sorted and the bare bones of the first chapter of his learned volume lying before him on his desk after four days’ hard work, laid down his pen and strolled out of the study. Each morning before his household was stirring he had let himself out of the house with his dog and walked until breakfast-time; he walked again in the evening but so far he hadn’t taken much interest in the house. Miss Murch cooked delicious meals for him, kept the house quiet and disturbed him not at all but now he had an urge to look around him.

      It was a chilly morning; he would find his way to the kitchen and ask for his coffee. He stood in the hall, looking around him, and his eye lighted on the bowl of winter jasmine set on the wall table. It was a splash of colour and he wondered who had put it there. Miss Murch, splendid housekeeper that she was, wasn’t one to waste time arranging flowers. A faint sound behind him made him turn his head, in time to see a grey skirt disappearing through the dining-room door, with such swiftness that he wondered if he had imagined it. He shrugged huge shoulders, went to the kitchen and had his coffee sitting on the kitchen table while Miss Murch made pastry and then made his way back to the study. He was in the hall when he came face to face with Patience.

      CHAPTER TWO

      IT WAS Basil who made the first move; he trotted forward and jumped up at Patience, recognising someone he had already met and liked. She bent to pat him, glad of something to do, for Mr van der Beek’s stare was disconcerting.

      ‘Ah, yes,’ his voice was cool, ‘Basil remembers you.’ His tone implied that he himself did not. ‘I take it you are the—er—general factotum whom Mr Bennett urged me to employ.’

      She didn’t allow herself to be disconcerted by his cold eyes. ‘Yes, Mr van der Beek, I’m Patience Martin.’ She added, wishing to be friendly, ‘We met out walking on Sunday afternoon.’

      ‘Did we?’ He turned away. ‘Don’t let me keep you from your work.’

      She put away the table silver she had been cleaning and went back to the kitchen to make a neat list of the groceries Miss Murch wanted delivered on the following day. ‘Tell that butcher that I want the best Scotch beef; if he hasn’t got it, he need not bother to send anything else.’

      Patience called in on her way home that afternoon to warn the butcher. ‘I know you have excellent meat, but the housekeeper is determined to find fault with everything. I don’t think she likes living out of London.’

      Mr Crouch leaned his elbows on the counter. ‘She’s going to like it even less—there’s bad weather on the way, Miss Patience; snow and a nasty east wind. Like as not she’ll be holed up there in the house for days on end.’

      Mr Crouch was noted for his weather predictions. ‘I might get holed up too,’ said Patience. ‘Just to be on the safe side I think I’ll talk to Mrs Dodge … she might have to keep an eye on the aunts.’

      ‘Yes, do that, love. Got plenty of stores up at the house, have they?’

      ‘Enough for a week, but not bread or milk, and there might be power cuts.’

      ‘Well, you bear it in mind. Remember that winter four years back—you was all cut off for days—us as well—real blizzard that were and no mistake.’

      ‘It’s only half a mile away from the village,’ observed Patience.

      ‘Might just as well be ten miles when there’s drifts.’ Mr Crouch wiped down the counter. ‘I’ve a tasty pair of chops if you fancy them to give Miss Martin and her sister …’

      Patience took the chops and herself off home to the aunts, waiting with ladylike patience for their tea.

      She broached the subject of possible bad weather to Miss Murch on the next day.

      ‘There’s nothing on the weather forecast,’ said Miss Murch. ‘I shall want some carrots from the garden; Mr van der Beek likes a carrot.’

      Patience didn’t think that Mr van der Beek would enjoy anything as homely as a carrot but she went and found old Ned, who filled her trug and remarked gloomily that there was bad weather on the way and how was he supposed to get at the cabbages and leeks if they got snowed up?

      ‘Miss Murch says there’s nothing on the weather forecast …’

      Old Ned’s snort dismissed Miss Murch. ‘And what do she know about it, eh?’ He patted a string of splendid onions with a loving hand. ‘You mark my words …’

      Patience, who had more faith in old Ned and Mr Crouch than the weathermen, had another go at Miss Murch. ‘This house has been cut off during bad weather,’ she volunteered, not mentioning that she and her aunts had been cut off too. ‘The snow drifts badly here—it’s rather flat, you see.’

      ‘Then what are the snowploughs for?’ asked Miss Murch witheringly. ‘This may be the back of beyond but presumably it is entitled to the same public services as those enjoyed by more civilised parts.’

      Patience gave up and went away to answer the doorbell. Someone from a firm in Norwich wanting to know if the owner of the house would like double glazing.

      ‘Well, he’s not here—away for a few days.’ Patience, hardened to telling fibs, after a little pause added, ‘If you want to come again it would save a lot of time if you phoned first. He’s not often at home.’

      She smiled kindly at the man, who looked as though he could have done with a warm drink. On her own she would undoubtedly have given him one. ‘You could try the vicarage if you haven’t called there already …’

      He went away quite cheerful; she was sure the vicar couldn’t afford double glazing but she was just as sure that the man would be given a cup of tea. Selling double glazing in January was no way to earn a living; she thought of Mr van der Beek, secure in the cosy fastness of his study, having regular meals and earning fabulous sums just by sitting at a desk and writing.

      Mr van der Beek was indeed sitting at his desk, but he wasn’t writing. To his annoyance his powerful brain was refusing to concentrate upon transcribing his notes into plain English—interlarded with Latin medical terms of course—instead, he found his thoughts wandering towards his general factotum. A mouse-like creature if ever there was one, he reflected, and surely with that ordinary face and mouse-like hair she didn’t need to dress like a mouse? Her eyes were beautiful, though; he reflected for a few moments on the length and curl of her eyelashes. She had a charming voice too … He picked up his pen and summarily dismissed her from his mind.

      The following morning when Patience went down to the kitchen garden she found old Ned stacking carrots, leeks and turnips in neat piles in the greenhouse. ‘Them turnips will be tough,’ he pointed out, ‘seeing as ‘ow there weren’t no one to dig ‘em up at the proper time. They’ll bake, though, and likely keep you going while the snow lasts.’

      Patience didn’t argue with him; she could see that the weather was changing with sullen clouds creeping in from the sea and a nasty cold wind.

      ‘It’ll be snowing by the morning,’ said old Ned.

      He was right; there was already a light covering when she got up and the still dark sky had a nasty yellow tinge to it. She was glad that she had seen Mrs Dodge, who lived close by and even in very bad weather would be able to get to the aunts. She had stocked up the kitchen cupboard too. She made sure that the house was warm and her aunts suitably clad and СКАЧАТЬ