A Gentle Awakening Read online

  By the time they had joined Pauline at the door, Jolly had opened it, received Sir William’s greeting with dignity, Pauline’s delighted outburst with scarcely concealed pleasure and Florina’s composed good morning with an almost avuncular mien, before standing aside to admit them.

  The lobby opened out into a semicircular hall, with a graceful staircase at one side and several doors leading out of it. Sir William flung one open now and urged Florina to enter. The room was at the back of the house overlooking a small, but delightfully planned garden.

  ‘I use this room when I’m here alone,’ he explained. ‘The drawing-room is upstairs, and a bit too grand unless I have guests.’

  Florina, taking in the elegant furnishings, the portraits on the walls and the generously draped brocade curtains, found the room delightful but grand enough. She wondered what the drawing-room would be like. This room had a pleasant air of homeliness about it. She sat down at his request, drank the coffee Mrs Jolly brought in and, having done so, got to her feet when Pauline suggested that she should show her her room before they had lunch.

  They mounted the stairs behind Mrs Jolly, and Florina was shown into a room at the head of the stairs: a beautiful room, all pink and white, with its own bathroom and a view of the street below.

  ‘I’m next door,’ Pauline explained. ‘Come and see my room when you’re ready.’

  Warned by Mrs Jolly that lunch would be in fifteen minutes, Florina wasted five of them inspecting her room. It was really a dream, the kind of room any girl would wish for. She wondered who had furnished it right down to the last tablet of soap and matching bath oil. There was even shampoo and hand lotion, all matching. She did her face and tidied her hair, and then knocked on Pauline’s door.

  Her room was as pretty as Florina’s, but here the furnishings were in a pale apricot, and the bed and dressing-table were painted white.

  ‘Do you like your room?’ asked Pauline eagerly. ‘Daddy let me help him furnish some of the bedrooms. Of course, Wanda doesn’t like them. She told Daddy that she was going to do the whole house over.’

  ‘A pity,’ observed Florina in a neutral voice. ‘I find them delightful, but people have different tastes.’

  They went back to the sitting-room and Florina was given a sherry before they crossed the hall to the dining-room. Its walls were papered in a rich red, the mahogany gleaming with polish. Florina, good cook that she was, could find nothing wrong with the shrimp patties, the lamb cooked with rosemary and the fresh fruit salad and cream which followed them.

  They had their coffee at the table and, as they were finishing it, Sir William said, ‘We will go tomorrow morning and choose a dog and cat. This afternoon I thought perhaps we might go to a matinée: I’ve tickets for Cats which starts at three o’clock. I have some telephone calls to make, then we’ll take Florina round the house, shall we, Pauline?’

  Florina went to bed that night in a haze of happiness; the day had been perfect, never to be forgotten. They had explored the house at a leisurely pace, allowing her plenty of time to admire everything. It was perfect, she thought, and she said so, forgetting that Wanda was going to change the lovely old furniture and the chintzes and velvets. Afterwards, they had gone to the theatre, and then to tea at the Ritz and finally back home, to sit by the window overlooking the garden, arguing happily about names for the animals.

  They would leave at half-past nine the next morning, Sir William had said at dinner. ‘For I have to go to the hospital and check on a couple of patients.’

  After dinner, when Pauline had gone to bed, Florina sat opposite him, listening to him talking about his work. He had paused briefly to ask, ‘Am I boring you? Wanda dislikes hearing about illness, but I think that you are interested.’

  She had told him fervently that she was and, being a sensible girl, never hesitated to stop him so that he might explain something she hadn’t understood.

  She could have stayed there all night listening to him talking, but remembered in time that she was the cook, however pleasant he was being. So she made rather a muddled retreat in a flurry of goodnights and thanks, and Sir William’s eyes had gleamed with amusement. He had made the muddle worse by bending to kiss her as she reached the door, so that just for a moment she forgot that she was the cook.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THEY spent almost two hours in the animal sanctuary. Finally, they left with an ecstatic Pauline sitting on the back seat with a large woolly dog beside her, and a mother cat and her kitten in a basket on her lap. The dog was half-grown, his ancestry so numerous that it was impossible to classify him, but he had an honest face and eyes which shone with gratitude and anxious affection. His coat was curly, and once he had recovered his full health and strength its brown colour would be glossy. He had been found by a hiker tied to a tree and left to starve. The cat and kitten had been picked up on a motorway, tied in a plastic bag. They were black and white, the pair of them, and still timid, not believing their luck.

  Florina, sitting beside Sir William, listened to the child talking to her new pets and spoke her thoughts aloud. ‘Isn’t it nice to hear Pauline happy?’

  Sir William threw her a quick sideways look. ‘Is she not always happy?’

  ‘Almost always.’

  ‘But she is sometimes unhappy. Will you tell me why?’

  ‘No, I can’t tell you that—at least I can, but I don’t choose to do so.’ She added hastily, ‘I don’t mean to be rude, Sir William.’

  His grunt could have meant anything. Presently he broke his silence. ‘I shall be away for the whole of next week, and I think it likely that I shall remain in town over the weekend. Nanny will be with you, of course, but you can always phone if you need anything—Jolly will know where I am.’

  She said meekly, ‘Yes, Sir William,’ and wondered where he would be going. To stay with Wanda? Very likely. She sat silent, brooding about it.

  Back at the house, Pauline ran off to the kitchen to show Mrs Jolly her pets, and Sir William excused himself on the grounds of telephone calls to make and departed to his study, which left Florina standing in the hall, not sure what to do. It was Jolly who entered the hall just then and told her that lunch would be in half an hour, and if she cared to go into the drawing-room she would find drinks on the table under the window.

  So she went in there and sat down in one of the smaller of the easy chairs. She didn’t pour herself a drink, and she was surprised at Jolly mentioning it. After all, she should really be in the kitchen…

  The house was quiet. But from the closed door leading to the kitchen came the sound of Pauline’s excited voice. The study door was shut, so Florina nipped smartly out of the room, and crossed the hall silently. The dining-room door was half-open; she peeped round it—the table was set for three persons. She took a soft step forward and was brought to a startled halt by Sir William, speaking within inches of her ear. ‘Set your mind at rest, Florina, you are lunching with us.’

  She had whizzed round to gape up at his amused face. ‘How did you know? I mean, I expected to eat with the Jollys,’ she added fiercely. ‘You forget that I work for you, Sir William.’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ he agreed, ‘but for quite different reasons than those you are supposing.’ He turned her smartly around. ‘Shall we have a drink? We shall have to leave soon after lunch—I’ve a date for this evening. I’ll not be down at the weekend, as I’ve told you already. I’ve a long-standing invitation I most particularly wish to keep.’

  She said nothing to this. It would be with Wanda, of course; even when she wasn’t there she made her presence felt, tearing Florina’s futile daydreams to shreds. She sat down in the chair she had just vacated, and sipped her sherry while Sir William began a rather one-sided conversation. It was a relief when Pauline came to join them.

  ‘The pets are having their dinner,’ she explained. ‘Daddy, what shall we call them?’

  Names were discussed at some length during lunch. Presently, they all got into the Bentley to driv
e back to Wheel House, Pauline in the back with the animals and Florina beside Sir William. It would be polite to talk a little, she reflected, so she ventured a few remarks about the pleasures of the weekend and was answered in such a vague fashion that she soon gave up. Perhaps he didn’t like chatter as he drove, although Pauline never stopped talking when she sat with him and he hadn’t seemed to mind.

  She was taken by surprise when he said, ‘Don’t stop talking. You have a gentle voice, very soothing. It helps me to think.’

  She glanced at his profile. He was looking severe but, when he looked at her, suddenly his smile wasn’t in the least severe. She began to talk about the garden and the swans and the delight of the mill stream running under the house, rambling on, speaking her thoughts aloud.

  When they reached Wheel House she slipped away to the kitchen after Nanny’s brief greeting, and carried in the tray set ready. Then she went to her room and put her things away. By the time she went downstairs tea was almost over, and Sir William was preparing to leave. She bade him a quiet goodbye and he nodded casually. ‘Think up some of your super menus, will you? I’ll be back with Wanda the weekend after next.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to that,’ she told herself silently.

  The two weeks went quickly, what with walking the dog, and initiating the cat and her kitten into the life of comfort they were undoubtedly going to lead. Pauline had chosen their names—Mother and Child—for, as she pointed out to Florina, that’s what they were. The dog she called Bobby, because she found he answered to that name. Florina taught her to whistle, and the dog, while not looking particularly intelligent, was obedient and devoted to her. The days were placid, and even her father’s ill humour couldn’t spoil Florina’s content. True, her thoughts dwelt over-long upon Sir William, and any titbit of news about him when he telephoned Pauline she listened to, and stored away to mull over when she had gone to bed. It was a good thing that towards the end of the fortnight she had to begin in earnest on the weekend’s food. She helped around the house too, and made sure that Pauline’s school uniform was ready for the autumn term was almost upon them.

  Nanny, usually so brisk, looked dejected. ‘They’ll be married, mark my words,’ she observed to Florina, as they sat together after Pauline had gone up to bed. ‘The child will be at school, and next term she’ll find herself a boarder there, with that woman persuading Sir William that it is just what Pauline longs for. Then it will be me, packed off, away from here. And take it from me, Florina, you won’t be long following me! She won’t risk having you in the house. You’re young—and a nice girl—not pretty, but there is more to a girl than a handsome face…’

  Florina murmured a reassurance she didn’t feel. Being young and nice was no help at all against Wanda’s cherished good looks.

  Sir William arrived in time for a late tea. Florina heard the car draw up and shut the door upon the sound of Wanda’s voice, strident with ill temper, raised in complaint as she came into the house.

  She heard her say to Nanny, who had gone into the hall, ‘Still here, Nanny? There can’t be anything for you to do—according to Sir William that cook of his is quite capable of running the place. You must be longing to retire again.’

  It augured ill for the weekend and Florina, warming the teapot, wished it over. The less she saw of Sir William, the better for her peace of mind. Even so, she longed to see him. She made the tea, put the tea cosy over the pot and began to butter scones.

  ‘Well, well!’ Sir William’s quiet voice took her by surprise. ‘My own kitchen door shut against me! Pauline has been commandeered to help Wanda unpack.’ He took a scone and ate it with relish. ‘And how are you, Florina?’

  He studied her face carefully, and she reddened under his gaze. ‘Very well, thank you, Sir William.’

  He began on another scone. ‘Jolly is with us. Will you or Nanny see that he is comfortable? He has driven down in a Mini—you can drive? You’ll be able to take Pauline to school and fetch her.’

  She said faintly, ‘Oh, will I?’ and passed the plate of scones, since he seemed bent on eating the lot.

  ‘There aren’t all that number of people I would trust to drive her. Could you escape from the stove tomorrow morning—before breakfast? We’ll go for a run?’

  All her resolutions about keeping out of his way disappeared like smoke. ‘It’s breakfast at half-past eight…’

  ‘Couldn’t be better. Seven o’clock be OK?’ He didn’t wait for her answer, but took another scone and wandered out of the kitchen, leaving her door open.

  Which meant that after a few moments she heard Wanda’s voice as she came downstairs. She was still complaining and Nanny, coming for the tea tray, had a face like a thunder cloud. ‘In a fine temper, she is—wanted to stop at some posh hotel for tea, but Sir William wanted to come straight home.’

  She stalked off with the tray and Florina set the table for their own tea, helped by Jolly, who had just come into the house.

  It was a pleasant meal, with Jolly and Nanny keeping the conversation carefully to generalities. This was a disappointment to Florina, who had hoped to glean news about Sir William and Wanda. After tea, there was no time to talk. There was dinner to see to which kept her in the kitchen for several hours, aware that Pauline’s voice, raised and tearful, interlarded by Bobby’s bark and Wanda’s regrettably shrill tones, were hardly contributing to a happy evening.

  Mother and Child were curled up cosily before the Aga, presently to be joined by a furious Pauline and Bobby, who, being good-natured himself, expected everyone else to be the same.

  ‘I hate her!’ declared Pauline. ‘If Daddy marries her, me and Bobby will run away. She said he smelled nasty.’ She sniffed, ‘Daddy said it was time for his supper, and then him and me—I—will take him for his walk.’

  Daddy seemed good at pouring oil on troubled waters. Florina watched Pauline feeding the animals. The child was entirely engrossed in this, and happy, but how soon would her happiness be shattered once Wanda had become her stepmother? Sir William, much as she loved him, had been remarkably mistaken in his choice of a second wife. Men, thought Florina, however clever, could be remarkably dim at times.

  She was in the kitchen all the evening, so that she saw neither Sir William nor Wanda. It was bedtime by the time they had eaten their own supper and cleared it away. Since Jolly had undertaken to remain up until Sir William retired himself, she and Nanny said goodnight and went to their respective rooms.

  It was one o’clock in the morning when Florina woke on the thought that she had forgotten to put the porridge oats to soak. Nanny was a firm believer in porridge, but it had to be said that she insisted it was made according to her recipe—old-fashioned and time-consuming. She got out of bed, without stopping to put on a dressing-gown and slippers, and nipped down to the kitchen. There would be no one around at that hour. She put the exact amount of oats into water in a double saucepan, added the pinch of salt Nanny insisted upon, and stirred it smoothly before filling the steamer with hot water and setting the whole upon the Aga. Having done which, she stepped back and glanced at the clock, and then let out a startled yelp as Sir William, speaking from the door where he had been lounging watching her, observed, ‘Such devotion to duty! It’s one o’clock in the morning, Florina.’

  She curled her toes into the rug before the stove and longed for her dressing-gown. ‘Yes—well, you see I forgot the porridge. Nanny likes it made in a certain way, and I forgot to soak it. I’m very sorry if I disturbed you…’

  He said gravely, ‘Oh, you disturb me, but you have no need to be sorry about it.’ He stood looking at her for a long moment, and when he spoke his voice was very gentle. ‘Go to bed, my dear.’

  She flew away without a word, intent on escape, wishing with all her heart that she was his dear. Sleep escaped her for the next hour or so, so that the night was short, but she got up and dressed and plaited her hair neatly at the usual time. Then she went down to the kitchen, intent on making tea before t
hey set out, thankful that it would give her something to do, for, remembering their early-morning meeting, she was stiff with shyness.

  Sir William was already there, with the tea made and poured into mugs. His good morning was casually friendly, and he scarcely looked at her, so she calmed down and, by the time they reached the garage, she was almost her usual calm self.

  Sir William was hardly the build for a Mini. Florina, despite the smallness of her person, found it a tight fit with the pair of them. To make more room he had flung an arm along the back of the seat and she was very aware of it; nevertheless, she made herself concentrate on her driving, going along the narrow country road to Wilton and then back on the main Salisbury road, and taking the turning to the village, over the bridge opposite the farm.

  ‘Quite happy about ferrying Pauline to and fro?’ he asked as she ran the little car into the garage. He got out, strolling beside her towards the kitchen door. ‘If Pauline’s up we’ll take Bobby for a walk.’ He turned on his heel and then stopped and turned around to face her. ‘You have such beautiful hair—a shining mouse curtain. You should wear it loose always.

  ‘It would get in the soup,’ said Florina.

  Wanda came downstairs mid-morning, beautifully dressed and made-up, ready to be entertained. It was a pity that everyone should be in the kitchen with the door to the patio open, milling around, drinking coffee, feeding the swans from the patio, playing with the cats and brushing Bobby. In the middle of this cheerful hubbub, Florina stood at the table making a batch of rolls, quite undisturbed by it all. Nobody else noticed Wanda’s entrance, and Florina paused long enough to say politely, ‘Good morning, Miss Fortesque. Would you like coffee?’