An Old Fashioned Girl. Бетти Нилс

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ to our beds.’

      ‘Well, that would be nice,’ said Patience, ‘but I’m not sure—I mean, I haven’t got a dressingg-gown …’ She had gone rather red but she gave him a steady look.

      ‘My dear young lady, no dressing-gown could cover you as adequately as the garment in which you presently appear to be smothered. Miss Murch’s, I gather?’

      He had led the way back to the kitchen and opened up the Aga and filled a kettle. ‘Tea?’ he asked.

      Patience thrust back her sleeves once more and crossed to the dresser, collecting cups and saucers, spoons, the tea caddy and a tray with the ease of long custom. As she came back with the milk jug and sugar bowl Mr van der Beek, watching the kettle come to the boil, remarked quietly, ‘You are familiar with this house, are you not, Miss Martin? Was it your home?’

      ‘Oh, how did you know?’ She paused on her way to the table. ‘I didn’t—I didn’t mean to deceive you, you know, only Mr Bennett thought you might need someone to give a hand and as I knew where everything was and the tradespeople …’

      ‘You have no need to apologise. I am sure you are worth your weight in gold. Do I have to call you Miss Martin?’

      ‘Oh, no, no. That wouldn’t do at all. My name’s Patience.’

      He nodded. ‘And the two ladies who come each day to work here? They know who you are?’

      ‘Oh, yes. They used to work here while my aunts lived in this house, only not for some time now; for the last few months we managed very nicely without anyone.’

      He poured water into the teapot. ‘Your aunts are elderly?’ He knew the answer to that but all the same he waited to hear what she would say.

      ‘We closed up most of the rooms.’ She spoke with a touch of defiance and he smiled.

      ‘Come and drink your tea. Are we likely to be snowed in?’

      ‘Oh, yes. The ploughs will come, of course, but they clear the main roads first so it will be a day or two.’

      ‘Will we be able to get through to the village?’ he asked idly.

      ‘Not until the wind dies down and we can dig our way out. The lane dips and there is always a drift every time there. Well,’ she added fairly, ‘there are drifts all over the place but the one in the lane is particularly deep.’

      ‘So we may be isolated for several days?’

      ‘I expect so.’ She added kindly, ‘But that will be nice for you; you wanted to be very quiet, didn’t you? And no one is likely to call; the phone will be down, it always is, and of course the postman can’t get here.’

      ‘An interesting prospect. I trust there is enough coal and wood to keep us warm?’

      She nodded and said in her practical way, ‘Yes, I got old Ned to bring some logs up to the boot-room and there is plenty of coal, and if we run short we can live in the kitchen.’

      Mr van der Beek sighed; living in the kitchen was something he would prefer not to do, and besides he would be hindered from his writing. He drank the last of his tea and watched her stifle a yawn. ‘Go back to bed, Patience, and get some sleep. I’ll blow out the candles.’

      She wished him goodnight and, clutching the surplus folds of her nightgown, made her way back to her room. It was cold there after the kitchen but she was too tired to mind that. She was already asleep within minutes.

      It was still dark when she got up and the snow had faltered to occasional flurries driven by the wind. She dressed, wound her hair into a neat bun and went downstairs to the kitchen. The Aga might be old but it still worked; she added coal, turned up the heat and set a kettle on to boil. Miss Murch would be down presently and both she and Mr van der Beek would expect tea. There was no sign of Basil, but presently she heard him barking. Perhaps he had got shut out—she went through the scullery and past the boot-room and opened the old door which led to the garden. Here it had been somewhat sheltered from the wind so that the snow hadn’t drifted although it was several inches deep. She poked her head out cautiously, her breath taken by the icy air, and was rewarded by the sight of Mr van der Beek shovelling snow, making a narrow path towards the woodshed. He appeared to be enjoying himself, tossing great shovelfuls to one side as though they were feathers. He had a splendid pair of shoulders, thought Patience, watching him, and, dressed as he was in a great baggy sweater with trousers stuffed into his boots, he didn’t look at all like the austere man whom she spent her days avoiding.

      It was Basil who saw her and came romping back to say hello and although Mr van der Beek didn’t look up he called over one shoulder, ‘I should like a cup of tea …’

      ‘Well, you shall have one if you come into the kitchen now,’ said Patience tartly, ‘and wipe your boots and leave them on the mat.’

      She didn’t wait for an answer but went back to the kitchen, made the tea and set out a small tray ready to carry to the study. As soon as he had had it and gone upstairs to make himself presentable for his breakfast she would nip in and get the fire raked out and lighted.

      Basil came prancing in, delighted with the weather, and his master with him, looking meek in his socks. ‘I’ll take the tray through to the study,’ said Patience.

      ‘Indeed you will not. It’s freezing there. I’ll have it here. Where’s Miss Murch?’

      ‘I expect she will be down presently to cook your breakfast.’ She picked up the teapot and he put three mugs down on the table.

      ‘Let’s not be dainty. I like two lumps of sugar. Is there a towel I can use to rub Basil dry?’

      ‘Behind the door. I’ll fetch a clean one for us to use.’

      Miss Murch, coming into the kitchen, paused in the doorway. Her, ‘Good morning, Mr van der Beek,’ was glacial, but he didn’t appear to notice that.

      ‘I’m going to shave,’ he told her cheerfully, ‘and I’ll have my breakfast here where it’s warm—twenty minutes?’ He gave her a charming smile, whistled to Basil and went out of the room.

      ‘I made a pot of tea,’ said Patience. ‘Would you like a cup, Miss Murch? The Aga’s going nicely and Mr van der Beek has cleared a path to the woodshed so there’ll be plenty of coal and logs. Would you like me to see to the fire in the study first?’

      ‘Well, since there’s no one else. We had better have our breakfast when Mr van der Beek has finished his. If you could light the study fire it would soon be warm enough for him.’ She sounded almost apologetic.

      Patience got into the apron Mrs Perch used when she came to work, collected bucket, shovel, paper and kindling, and went off to the study. It was getting light now; she drew back the curtains to find that the snow had heaped itself up against the windows so that she had to stand firmly on tiptoe in order to see out; really she might just as well have left the curtains drawn …

      She had a nice fire going and was sitting back on her heels admiring it when Mr van der Beek came in.

      ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he wanted to know, and she glanced up in surprise; it didn’t sound like him at all.

      She said in the СКАЧАТЬ