Promise of Happiness. Бетти Нилс

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СКАЧАТЬ very discreet man,’ offered Mr Raukema van den Eck, ‘if you would care to tell me about it…?’

      Her hands tightened on Pooch’s fur so that he muttered at her. ‘I can’t bother you with something that’s—that’s…’

      ‘None of my business? I have always found that talking to a stranger is so much easier—you see, they are not involved.’

      ‘Well, it would be nice to talk about it…’

      ‘Then talk, Miss…no, Rebecca.’

      ‘People call me Becky, only my stepmother and Basil call me Rebecca.’

      He had slowed the car as the country round them was slowly swallowed by the outskirts of the city, and his ‘Well?’ was encouraging if a little impatient.

      ‘I’m twenty-three,’ began Becky, ‘my mother died when I was eighteen and I looked after Father at first and when I went to Leeds to train we got a housekeeper. Everything was lovely…’ she swallowed a grief which had never quite faded. ‘My father married again. He died two years ago and my stepmother forced me to go home because she said she was ill and needed me…’

      ‘People don’t force anyone in these days,’ remarked her companion.

      ‘Oh, yes, they do.’ She wanted to argue with him about that, but there wasn’t much more time. ‘She wrote to the Principal Nursing Officer and her doctor wrote too. She sent Basil—he’s my stepbrother, to fetch me. She wasn’t really ill—jaundice, but not severe, but somehow I couldn’t get away. I tried once or twice, but each time she told me what she would do to Pooch and Bertie if I went, and I had no money.’ She added vehemently: ‘I don’t suppose you know what it’s like not to have any money? It took me almost two years to save up enough money to get away.’

      ‘How much did you save?’ he asked idly.

      ‘Thirty pounds and sixty pence.’

      ‘That won’t go far.’ His voice was gentle.

      ‘Well, I thought for a start it would pay our bus fares and breakfast before we look for a job.’

      ‘Will your stepmother not look for you?’

      ‘Probably, but they don’t get up until eight o’clock. I call them every morning—they’d wonder where I’d got to. But by the time they’ve asked the housekeeper and looked for me that will be at least another hour.’

      ‘And what kind of job do you hope to get?’

      ‘Well, nursing, of course, though I suppose I could be a housekeeper…’

      ‘References?’ he probed.

      ‘Oh—if I gave them the hospital at Leeds my stepmother might enquire there and find out—there isn’t anyone else, only my father’s elder brother, and he lives in Cornwall, and I don’t expect he even remembers me.’ She turned to look at him. ‘I suppose you couldn’t…?’

      ‘No, I couldn’t.’ His tone was very decisive.

      She watched the almost empty street and didn’t look at him. ‘No, of course not—I’m sorry. And thank you for giving us a lift. If you’d stop anywhere here, we’ll get out.’

      He pulled into the kerb. ‘I am a little pressed for time and I am tired, but I have no intention of leaving you here at this hour of the morning. I intend to have breakfast and I shall be delighted if you will join me.’

      He didn’t sound in the least delighted, but Becky was hungry. She asked hesitantly: ‘What about Pooch and Bertie?’

      ‘I feel sure we shall be able to find someone who will feed them.’

      ‘I’m very obliged to you,’ said Becky, any qualms melting before the prospects of a good meal.

      He drove on again without speaking, threading his way into and across the central motorway, to take the road to Tynemouth and stop outside the Imperial Hotel.

      ‘Not here?’ asked Becky anxiously.

      ‘Yes, here.’ He got out and opened her door and then invited Bertie to get out too, handing her the string wordlessly before entering the hotel. He was looking impatient again and as she hastened to keep close, reflecting that the hotel looked rather splendid and that probably the porter would take one look at her and refuse to allow her in—especially with the animals.

      She need not have worried. Her wet raincoat was taken from her and leaving Pooch and Bertie with Mr Raukema van den Eck she retired to the powder room with her comb to do the best she could with her appearance. And not very successfully, judging by her host’s expression when she joined him.

      They were shown into the coffee room where a table had been got ready for them and what was more, two plates of food set on the floor beside it. Becky took her seat wonderingly. ‘I say,’ she wanted to know, ‘do all hotels do this? I didn’t know— breakfast at seven o’clock in the morning and no one minding about the animals.’

      Her companion looked up from his menu. ‘I don’t think I should try it on your own,’ he suggested dryly. ‘They happen to be expecting me here.’ He added: ‘What would you like to eat?’

      Becky hesitated. True, he drove a Rolls-Royce and this was a very super hotel, but the car could go with the job and he might have intended to treat himself to a good meal. She frowned; it seemed a funny time of day to be going anywhere…

      ‘I’m very hungry,’ said Mr Raukema van den Eck. ‘I shall have—let me see—grapefruit, eggs and bacon and sausages, toast and marmalade. And tea—I prefer tea to coffee.’

      ‘I’d like the same,’ said Becky, and when it came, ate the lot. The good food brought a little colour into her pale thin face and her companion, glancing at her, looked again. A plain girl, but not quite as plain as he had at first supposed. When they had finished she made haste to thank him and assure him that she would be on her way. ‘We’re very grateful,’ she told him, and Bertie and Pooch, sitting quietly at her feet, stared up in speechless agreement. ‘It’s made a wonderful start to the day. I’ll get my coat…would you mind waiting with them while I go? I’ll be very quick…you’re in a hurry, aren’t you?’

      ‘Not at the moment. Take all the time you need.’ He had taken a notebook from a pocket and was leafing through it.

      Becky inspected her person in the privacy of the powder room and sighed. Her hair had dried more or less; it hung straight and fine down her back, a hideous mouse in her own opinion. She looked better now she had had a meal, but she had no make-up and her hands were rough and red and the nails worn down with housework. She didn’t see the beauty of her eyes or the creaminess of her skin or the silky brows. She turned away after a minute or two and with her raincoat over her arm went back to the coffee room. She was crossing the foyer when the door opened and three people came in; a large, florid woman in a too tight suit who looked furious, and a small, elderly lady, exquisitely dressed, looking even more furious, and seated in a wheelchair pushed by a harassed-looking man.

      ‘I am in great pain,’ declared the little lady, ‘and you, who call yourself a nurse, do nothing about it! I am in your clutches for the next few weeks and I do not like it; I wish you to go.’

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