Year's Happy Ending. Betty Neels

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      ‘Let me have her here,’ suggested the professor, who went on: ‘I should put your dressing-gown on before you go downstairs.’ His voice was quite impersonal but she gave a horrified squeak and pattered out of the room without another word. Bundled into her useful saxe-blue robe, buttoned from neck to ankle, she was glad of the few minutes it took in which to heat the milk. What must he have thought? She was no prude, after all she had three brothers, but children’s nurses to the best of her knowledge didn’t go prancing round in the dead of night in cotton nighties and nothing else when there were strangers around. And the professor was a stranger, and although she didn’t care a jot for his opinion of her, she squirmed at the idea of giving him something to snigger about…snigger wasn’t the right word, she conceded, give him his due, he wasn’t like that. All the same she dared say that he would have no hesitation in remarking on her dishabille if he felt like it.

      She removed the milk from the Aga, poured it into two mugs, put them on a tray and bore it upstairs with a stiff dignity which caused the professor’s fine mouth to twitch, although he said nothing, merely took the mug she offered Simon while she sat Suzy on her lap and coaxed her to drink. The pair of them were sleepy now; the milk finished, she tucked them back into bed, refused the professor’s offer to sit with them until they were well and truly asleep and bade him a dismissive goodnight. Only he wouldn’t be dismissed. ‘I’m going to make us a hot drink,’ he informed her, ‘I’ll be in the kitchen when you are ready.’

      He cast an eye over the two drowsy children. ‘Ten minutes at the outside, I should imagine.’

      ‘I don’t want…’ began Deborah and was stopped by the steely look he bent upon her. ‘You will have to be up soon after six o’clock for Dee—it is now a little after two in the morning; you will need to sleep as quickly as possible, a hot drink helps.’

      He was right, of course, although it wouldn’t be the first time she had gone short of sleep, and he was right about the twins too, they were asleep within minutes of being tucked in. She waited for a good five minutes and then went downstairs to the kitchen, cosy and magnificently equipped, to find the professor pouring steaming milk into two mugs.

      ‘Cocoa,’ he said, barely glancing at her, and handed her one.

      She sat down at the table and drank it as obediently as Suzy had done, and tried to think of something to say; but small talk didn’t come easily at the dead of night and anyway, her companion seemed unworried by the silence. She had almost finished when he observed: ‘It’s the twins’ birthday in two weeks’ time—I’m giving them a dog—a golden labrador puppy—he’ll keep them busy and sleep in their room, that should stop the nightmares.’

      ‘You approve of animals in bedrooms?’

      He gave her a surprised look and then smiled thinly. ‘I suppose you have been trained to discourage it?’

      ‘Well yes, but personally I think there’s no harm in it. Our cat always sleeps on my bed when I’m at home.’ She drank the last of her cocoa. ‘We haven’t got a dog—at least he died last year…I don’t suppose you have much time for one?’

      ‘Very little, but I have three. Two labradors and a Jack Russell—there are cats too—my housekeeper has two and a constant supply of kittens.’ He put down his mug. ‘You had better go to bed Nanny.’

      He had spoken so abruptly that she opened her green eyes wide, just for only a few moments she had forgotten that he didn’t much like her. She put her cup in the sink, said ‘Goodnight’ in a quiet little voice and went back upstairs. The twins were sound asleep, so was Dee; she got into bed and was asleep within two minutes.

      She had fed Dee and was dressed and ready for her day before the twins woke, their disturbed night forgotten and bounding with energy, but she was used to them by now; they were sitting down to their breakfast no more than five minutes late, shovelling corn flakes into their small mouths by the time their uncle appeared, Mary hard on his heels with fresh coffee and toast. He bade the room a general good-morning, gave it as his intention to drive the twins to school and ate a huge breakfast with no more than a quick look at Deborah, sitting behind the coffee pot, clean and starched and severe. ‘In that case,’ she remarked, ‘I’d better phone Aunty Doris and ask her not to come.’

      ‘For God’s sake, do—that garrulous woman…’

      ‘Little pitchers have long ears,’ said Deborah sternly and then blushed because she had sounded like a prig.

      ‘What’s a pitcher?’ asked Suzy.

      ‘Doesn’t God like Aunty Doris?’ asked Simon.

      ‘You see what you’ve done?’ snapped Deborah and was answered by a great bellow of laughter.

      The house seemed very quiet after they had gone, the three of them. Deborah bathed and dressed Dee and put her out in the garden in the pram before racing round making beds and tidying up.

      ‘It’ll be a nice roast chicken for lunch,’ said Mary. ‘Mister Gideon says he must go this afternoon—he’s partial to my trifle too.’

      Deborah tried to think of something suitable to say to this; it was evident that Mary doted on the man and there was no point in offending the dear soul by saying what she thought about the professor; after all, she was unlikely to meet him again. She would forget him, just as she had forgotten a number of people she had met and disliked during the last few years.

      Mary was looking at her, waiting for her to make some comment. She said brightly: ‘I’m sure he’ll love that—men like sweet things, don’t they?’

      The housekeeper gave a rich chuckle. ‘That they do—never grow up, they don’t, not in some ways. Now Mr Burns, he likes a nice chocolate pudding.’

      She watched Deborah collect an armful of small garments ready for the washing machine, and added comfortably: ‘Well, I’ll be off to my kitchen. I must say you’re a real help around the house, Nanny, not like some of those toffee-nosed au pairs Mrs Burns has tried out. Not a success they weren’t.’

      Deborah looked up briefly. ‘I’m only here for a short time, Mary. I expect Mrs Burns will have other plans.’

      ‘Ah, well as long as they speak English,’ she sighed.

      The professor appeared suddenly and almost silently, just as Deborah was settling Dee back in her pram after her morning feed. ‘Any coffee?’ he wanted to know.

      ‘Mary will have it ready, I expect.’ Deborah kicked the brake off, and began to wheel the pram across the lawn towards the drive. She usually had her coffee with Mary, this morning she would go for a walk first and leave the housekeeper to enjoy their visitor’s company.

      But it seemed that the professor had other ideas. He laid a large hand on the pram’s handle so that she was forced to stop. He said smoothly: ‘You don’t have to run away you know, I don’t bite; we’ve had no chance to get to know each other.’

      ‘What would be the point?’ she wanted to know matter-of-factly. ‘We’re most unlikely to meet again; I go all over the place.’

      He had steered the pram towards the patio, anchored it there and put his head through the open french window to shout to Mary. When he emerged he observed in a friendly way: ‘You must see quite a lot of life,’ and spoilt it by adding: ‘From the wings as it were.’

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