Marrying Mary. Betty Neels

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      ‘Yes, but we haven’t got one. We have a cat called Bingo.’

      He began to talk about her aunt then; he sounded exactly like a family doctor, which made him remote so that she couldn’t find the courage to ask him about his work, let alone his personal life. Even though he talked about Mrs Winton it was surprising the amount of information he gleaned from her without giving the least inkling of his own life.

      They were very nearly at her home when she asked shyly, ‘Do you live here in England or go back to Holland?’

      ‘My home is in Holland but I spend a good deal of time here.’ He added lightly, ‘A foot in either camp, as it were.’

      Which left her knowing no more about him than that.

      He stopped before her home and she thanked him with a hand on the door ready to jump out, but he was there before her, holding her door open—something Arthur wouldn’t have dreamt of doing even if she’d had her arms full of parcels. Arthur would have sat behind the wheel and said, ‘So long, old girl.’

      Professor van Rakesma was older and wiser than Arthur, besides the fact that he had nice manners. He opened the gate, glanced at the shabby house with its elaborate gables and said, ‘There must be a splendid view from the back of your home.’

      ‘Oh, there is—the Heath, you know.’

      They stood facing each other, either side of the gate, and he smiled suddenly. ‘I’ll be back around five o’clock, Miss Pagett.’

      She went up the overgrown drive to the front door and turned round to look when she reached it. He was still there, and she wondered uneasily if he had expected to be asked in. He had said that he was going to have tea with his godson ... She opened the door and went inside.

      Polly came into the hall to meet her. ‘Mary, I haven’t seen you for days. Mother’s in the hut and Father’s in the study. I cooked most of the lunch. Can you stay for tea? I made some rock cakes.’

      ‘Lovely, Polly, and I can stay for tea, but I have to be ready to leave at five o’clock.’ She went on with a slightly heightened colour, ’I have a lift here and back.’

      ‘Not Arthur?’

      ‘Heavens, no. What I mean is, I don’t think he knows I’m at Aunt Thirza’s house.’

      ‘Then who?’

      ‘Professor van Rakesma brought Mrs Stone, who relieves me each day, and since he was visiting someone in Hampstead he said he’d bring me home and drive me back.’

      ‘What’s he like? I know you said he had ginger hair and blue eyes but is he nice?’

      ‘Very nice.’

      ‘Is he married?’

      ‘I really don’t know. He’s—he’s not a man to talk about himself, I think.’

      ‘Well, then, he’s a nice change from Arthur,’ observed Polly. ‘It would be nice if he fell in love with you and married you, and that would be one in the eye for Arthur.’

      ‘Arthur is a good, steady man,’ said Mary as they went into the kitchen and began to gather things ready for tea.

      ‘Oh, pooh,’ said Polly. ‘Can you imagine what he’ll be like in ten years’ time?’

      Mary knew exactly what she meant.

      On Sundays, when they were all at home, they had tea in the drawing-room—a large, lofty-ceilinged place and very draughty since the old-fashioned windows were ill-fitting and allowed the air to seep in round their frames. In winter, of course, the door was shut and no one went near the place; it would have cost a fortune to light a fire large enough to warm the room and there was a damp patch in one corner which dried out during the summer and reappeared each autumn.

      Today was dry and warm, however, and the room, though shabby and on the chilly side, was pleasant enough; the chairs were elderly but comfortable and Mary and Mrs Blackett kept the tables and cabinets polished. They laid the tea things on a table by the big bay window at the back of the room and Mary cut sandwiches while Polly cut the cake and boiled the kettle.

      As Mary sliced and spread she allowed her thoughts to wander. Professor van Rakesma was probably at that very moment eating his tea somewhere in Hampstead. It would be a more elegant meal than she was preparing, of course—good china and silver teaspoons and cake-stands. He must be glad to get away from the hospital, which was jammed tight among narrow, busy city streets. Would he live there? she wondered, and dismissed the idea. Consultants would only be at the hospital at certain times; he must have a flat ...

      ‘Mary.’ Polly had raised her voice. ‘I’ve been talking to you for ages and you haven’t heard a word. Are you in love? You look quite moony.’

      ‘Good heavens, no.’

      Mary spoke so sharply that Polly said, ‘Well, you don’t have to snap my head off. P’haps you are tired. Great Aunt Thirza’s pretty grim, isn’t she?’

      ‘She’s old. Will you be a darling and fetch Mother from the hut? And I’ll get Father.’

      Tea was a pleasant, leisurely meal. Mrs Pagett wondered in her dreamy way when Mary would be home again, and her father remarked in a vexed voice that when she was away he could never find anything that he wanted.

      ‘I’ll be home soon,’ soothed Mary. ‘Aunt Thirza is much better and she’s to start doing more tomorrow.’

      ‘That’s nice, dear. Don’t let her tire you too much,’ observed her mother. ‘I suppose you have to go back after tea?’

      ‘Yes. Five o’clock. Professor van Rakesma gave me a lift here and is calling for me then.’

      ‘He could have come to tea...’

      ‘He was going to have tea with his godson, somewhere in Hampstead.’

      ‘Will he be coming in? I still have one or two cards—’

      ’He won’t come in, Mother. I’ll wait for him at the gate—he’ll want to get back:

      Mrs Pagett got up. ‘Then you won’t mind if I go back to the but and get on with my painting, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow, I expect.’

      She wandered away down the garden and presently Mr Pagett got up too. ‘I’ll leave you two to tidy up; I’ll only be in the way.’

      Polly ate the last sandwich. ‘I’ll wash up,’ she volunteered, ‘after you’ve gone.’

      ‘We’ll do it together—there’s fifteen minutes before he’ll be here.’

      They cleared the table together and went into the kitchen. Mary turned on the sink taps and waited patiently for the water to get warm—the boiler was beginning to get temperamental—and Polly went off to feed Bingo. She went out of the back door to call him in and found him lying comfortably in a rose bed by the gate. Professor van Rakesma was leaning over the gate, doing nothing.

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