Nanny by Chance Read online

  Later that evening, sitting in her dressing gown, drinking cocoa in Norma’s room, Araminta reminded herself that this was exactly what she had wanted. She would never be a career girl, but she hoped there would be a secure and pleasant future ahead for her.

  Hard on this uplifting thought came another one. She didn’t want security and life could be as unpleasant as it liked, if only she could see Marcus again.

  The next few days gave her no chance to indulge in self-pity. Accustomed as she was to the care of small children, she still found the day’s workload heavy. Norma was well organised, being a trained children’s nurse, and efficient. She was kind and patient, too, and the boys liked her. They liked Araminta, too, and once she had learned her day’s routine, and her way round the school, she found that life could be pleasant enough even if busy—provided, of course, that she didn’t allow herself to think about Marcus.

  The following weekend was an exeat, and the boys would have Saturday, Sunday and Monday to go home, save for a handful whose parents were abroad.

  ‘We will split the weekend between us,’ Norma told her, ‘I’ll have Friday evening—you can manage, can’t you?—and come back on Sunday at midday. You can have the rest of Sunday and Monday, only be back in the evening, won’t you? The boys will come back after tea. Mr Gardiner doesn’t mind how we arrange things as long as one of us is here to keep an eye on the boys who are staying—there aren’t many; all but half a dozen have family or friends to whom they go.’

  ‘I don’t mind if I don’t go home,’ said Araminta. ‘I’ve only just got here…’

  ‘Nice of you, but fair’s fair, and you’ll be glad of a couple of days away. This is always a busy term— Christmas and the school play and parents coming and the boys getting excited.’

  Marcus van der Breugh, busy man though he was, still found time to phone Mrs Gardiner senior. ‘A happy coincidence,’ he told her, ‘that you should have mentioned your son’s urgent need for help. I am sure that Miss Pomfrey will be suitable for the work.’

  Mrs Gardiner, with time on her hands, was only too glad to chat.

  ‘I heard from him yesterday evening. He is very satisfied. She seems a nice girl—the boys like her and the matron likes her. So important that these people should get on well together, don’t you agree? And, of course, she is fortunate in that it is an exeat at the weekend and she will be free for part of the time to go home. She and Matron will share the days between them, of course; someone has to be there for the boys who stay at the school.’ She gave a satisfied laugh. ‘I feel we must congratulate ourselves on arranging things so successfully.’

  The doctor, making suitable replies when it seemed necessary, was already making plans.

  Araminta was surprised to get a letter the next morning; her parents were still away and the writing on the envelope wasn’t her cousin’s. She opened it slowly; her first delighted thought that it was from the doctor was instantly squashed. The writing was a woman’s; his writing was almost unreadable.

  It was from Lucy Ingram. She had asked her brother where Araminta was, she wrote, and he had given her the school’s address. Could Araminta come and stay for a day or two when she was next free? The boys were so anxious to see her again. ‘It’s an exeat next weekend and I dare say all the schools are the same. So if you are free, do let us know. I’ll drive over and fetch you. Do come if you can; it will be just us. Will you give me a ring?’

  Araminta phoned that evening. It would be nice to see Peter and Paul again, and perhaps hear something of Marcus from his sister. She accepted with pleasure but wondered if it was worth Mrs Ingram’s drive. ‘It’s only a day and a half,’ she pointed out, ‘and it’s quite a long way.’

  ‘The M4, M25, and a straight run down to Eastbourne. I’ll be there on Sunday at noon. And we shall love to see you again.’

  The school seemed very empty once most of the boys had gone and Norma had got into her elderly car and driven away. There were eight boys left, and with Mr Gardiner’s permission Araminta had planned one or two treats for the next day. The pier was still open and some of the amusements—the slot machines, the games which never yielded up a prize, the fortune-teller—were still there.

  After their midday dinner she marshalled her little flock and, armed with a pocket full of tenpenny pieces which she handed out amongst them, she let them try everything and then trotted them along the esplanade and into the town, where they had tea at one of the smartest cafés.

  Mr Gardiner had told her to give them a good time, that she would be reimbursed, so they ate an enormous tea and, content with their outing, walked back through the dusk to the school. Since it was a holiday they were allowed to stay up for an hour and watch television after their supper. Araminta, going from bed to bed wishing them goodnight, was almost as tired as they were.

  She put everything ready for the morning before she went to bed, praying that Norma would be as good as her word and return punctually.

  She did. Araminta, back from church with the boys and Mr Gardiner and his wife, wished everyone a hurried goodbye and went out of the school gate to find Mrs Ingram waiting there.

  ‘You’ve not been waiting long?’ she asked breathlessly. ‘It’s been a bit of a scramble.’

  ‘Five minutes. How nice to see you again, Mintie. I thought we’d stop for lunch on the way; we’ll be home before three o’clock and then we’ll have an early tea with the boys. They can’t wait to see you again.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you to invite me. I—I didn’t expect to see you or the boys again.’

  ‘You like this new job?’ Mrs Ingram was driving fast along the almost empty road.

  ‘Yes, very much. I’ve only been here for a week. I started nursing, but I wasn’t any good at it. Dr van der Breugh happened to see me at the hospital and arranged for me to give up training, and he happened to know of this school. He’s been very kind.’

  Mrs Ingram shot her a quick look. ‘Yes, he is. Far too busy, too. We don’t see enough of him, so thank heaven for the phone. Now, tell me, what exactly do you do?’

  The drive seemed shorter than it was; they found plenty to talk about, and stopped for a snack meal at a service station. The time passed pleasantly and, true to her word, Mrs Ingram stopped the car at her home just before three o’clock.

  CHAPTER NINE

  PETER and Paul fell upon her with a rapturous welcome. They had missed her, they chorused, and did she still remember the Dutch they had taught her when they were in Holland? And did she remember that lovely toy shop? And why did she have to live so far away? And was she to stay for a long, long time? For they had, assured Peter, an awful lot to tell her. But first she must go into the garden and see the goldfish…

  They had a splendid tea presently, and then everyone sat around the table and played Snakes and Ladders, Ludo and the Racing Game, relics from Mr Ingram’s childhood. Then it was time for supper, and nothing would do but that Araminta should go upstairs when they were in bed and tell them a story.

  ‘You always did in Uncle Marcus’s house,’ they reminded her.

  The day was nicely rounded off by dinner with the Ingrams and an hour or so round the drawing room fire talking about everything under the sun, except Marcus.

  It was still dark when she awoke in the pretty bedroom.

  ‘It’s a bit early,’ said Peter as the pair of them got onto her bed and pulled the eiderdown around them, ‘but you’ve got to go again at tea time, haven’t you? So we thought you might like to wake up so’s we can talk.’

  The day went too quickly. They didn’t go out, for the weather had turned nasty—a damp, misty, chilly November day—but there had been plenty to do indoors. It was mid-afternoon when Mr Ingram took the boys into the garden to make sure that the goldfish were alive and waiting for their food, leaving Mrs Ingram and Araminta sitting in the drawing room, talking idly.

  They were discussing clothes. ‘It must be delightful—’ began Araminta, and stopped speaking as the door
opened and the doctor came in.

  He nodded, smiling, at his sister, and said, ‘Hello, Mintie.’

  Nothing could have prevented her glorious smile at the sight of him. He noted it with deep satisfaction and watched her pale cheeks suddenly pinken.

  ‘Good afternoon, Doctor,’ said Araminta, replacing the smile with what she hoped was mild interest, bending to examine one of her shoes.

  Mrs Ingram got up to kiss him. ‘Marcus, how very punctual you are. We’re about to have tea. Such a pity that Araminta has to go back this evening.’

  The doctor glanced at his watch. ‘You have to be back to get the boys settled in again?’ he asked Araminta. ‘If we leave around four o’clock that should get you there in good time.’

  Araminta looked at Mrs Ingram, who said airily, ‘Oh, you won’t mind if Marcus drives you back, will you, Araminta? After all, you do know each other, and you’ll have plenty to talk about.’

  ‘But it’s miles out of your way…?’

  Araminta, filled with delight at the thought of several hours in Marcus’s company, nonetheless felt it her duty to protest.

  ‘I am interested to hear how you are getting on at the school,’ he observed blandly. ‘I feel sure that there will be no chance to discuss that once the boys have come indoors.’

  Which was true enough. They swarmed over their uncle and grown-up conversation of any kind was at a minimum. Tea was eaten at the table: plates of thinly cut bread and butter, crumpets, toasted teacakes, a sponge cake and a chocolate cake.

  ‘The boys chose what we should have for tea—all the things you like most, Araminta,’ said Mrs Ingram. ‘And, I suspect, all the things they like most, too! We always have an old-fashioned tea with them. I can’t say I enjoy milkless tea and one biscuit at four o’clock.’

  She glanced at her brother. ‘Did you have time for lunch, Marcus?’

  ‘Oh, yes. It’s Briskett’s day off, but he leaves me something.’ He sounded vague. But there was nothing vague about his manner when presently he said that they must leave if Araminta needed to be back at the school by six o’clock. She fetched her overnight bag and got into her coat, then made her farewells—lengthy ones when it came to the boys, who didn’t want her to go.

  ‘Araminta must come and see us all again soon,’ said Mr Ingram. ‘She gets holidays just like you do.’

  A remark which served to cheer up the boys so that she and Marcus left followed by a cheerful chorus of goodbyes.

  Beyond asking her if she were comfortable, the doctor had nothing to say. It wasn’t until they were on the M4, travelling fast through the early dusk, that he began a desultory conversation about nothing in particular. He was intent on putting Araminta at her ease, for she was sitting stiff as a poker beside him, giving him the strong impression that given the opportunity she would jump out of the car.

  She had said very little to him at his sister’s house, something which no one but himself had noticed, and now she was behaving as though he were a stranger. Driving to Oxford that afternoon, he had decided to ask her to marry him, but now he could see that that was something he must not do. For some reason she was keeping him at arm’s length, and yet at St Jules’ she had flung those arms around him with every appearance of relief and delight at seeing him. She seemed happy enough at the school. Perhaps she was trying to make it plain that she resented his reappearance now that she had settled into a job that she liked.

  They reached the M25 and he was relieved to see that her small stern profile had resolved itself into her usual habitual expression of serenity. He waited until they had left the motorway, going south now towards Eastbourne.

  ‘You are happy at the school?’ he asked casually. ‘You feel that you can settle there, if permanent job should be offered, or would you prefer to use it as a stop-gap? You can always enrol at another hospital, you know.’

  ‘No. That was a mistake. I hope that I can stay at the school. Matron is thinking of leaving next year; there’s always the chance that I might get her job. I would be very happy there for the rest of my life.’

  She spoke defiantly, expecting him to disagree about that, but all he did was grunt in what she supposed was agreement, which should have pleased her but left her illogically disappointed.

  Presently he said, ‘You feel that you have found your niche in life?’ He shot past a slow-moving car. ‘Have you no wish to marry? Have a home of your own, a husband and children?’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that was exactly what she wished, but what would be the point of wishing? Where was she to find a home and a husband and children? And anyway, the only husband she wanted was beside her, although he might just as well have been on the moon.

  She wasn’t going to answer that; instead she asked, ‘And you, doctor, don’t you wish for a wife and children?’

  ‘Indeed I do. What is more, I hope to have both in due course.’

  Not Christina, hoped Araminta, he would be unhappy. She said, at her most Miss Pomfrey-ish, ‘That will be nice.’

  A silly answer, but what else was there to say? She tried to think of a suitable remark which might encourage him to tell her more, but her mind was blank. Only her treacherous tongue took matters into its own hands.

  ‘Is she pretty?’ asked Araminta, and went scarlet with shame, thankful that it was too dark for him to see her face.

  The doctor managed not to smile. He said in a matter-of-fact way, as though there was nothing unusual in her question, ‘I think she is the loveliest girl in the world.’

  To make amends, Araminta said, ‘I hope you will be very happy.’

  ‘Oh, I am quite certain of that. Paul and Peter are looking very fit, don’t you agree?’

  Such a pointed change in the conversation couldn’t be ignored. She was aware of being snubbed and her reply was uttered in extreme politeness with waspish undertones. It seemed the right moment to introduce that safest of topics, the weather.

  She spun it out, making suitable comments at intervals, and the doctor, making equally suitable answers in a casual fashion, was well content. True, his Araminta had shown no sign of love, even liking for him, but she was very much on her guard and anxious to impress him with her plans for her solitary future.

  But he had seen her gloved hands clenched together on her lap and the droop of her shoulders. She wasn’t happy, despite her assurances. He wished very much to tell her that he loved her, but it was only too obvious that she was holding him at arm’s length. Well, he could wait. In a week or so he would find a reason to meet her again…

  They were in the outskirts of Eastbourne and he glanced at the clock on the dashboard. ‘Ten minutes to six. Do you go on duty straight away?’

  ‘I expect so. There’ll be the unpacking to do, and the boys will want their supper.’

  He stopped the car by the school entrance and she undid her seat belt. ‘Thank you for bringing me back; I have so enjoyed my weekend. Don’t get out—you must be anxious to get home.’

  He took no notice of that but got out, opened her door, got her case from the boot and walked her to the door.

  She held out a hand. ‘Goodbye, Dr van der Breugh. I hope you have a lovely time at Christmas.’

  He didn’t speak. He put her case down in the vestibule and bent and kissed her, slowly and gently. And only by a great effort was she able to keep her arms from flinging themselves round him. He got back into his car then, and drove away, and she stood, a prey to a great many thoughts and feelings, oblivious of the small boys trooping to and fro in the hall behind her.

  Their small voices, piping greetings, brought her to her senses and back into the busy world of the school. It was only that night in bed that she had the time to go over those last few moments.

  Had he meant to kiss her like that? she wondered. Or was it a kind of goodbye kiss? After all, if he intended to marry, he would have no further interest in her, and any interest he might have had had been more or less thrust upon him.

 
She was glad that she had been so positive about the future she had planned for herself. She must have convinced him that she had no interest in getting married. There were hundreds of girls who had made independent lives for themselves and there was no reason why she shouldn’t be one of them.

  No one would mind. Her mother and father would want her to be happy, but it wouldn’t worry them if she didn’t marry.

  She was too tired to cry and tomorrow morning was only a few hours away. She went into an uneasy sleep and dreamed of Marcus.

  With Christmas only weeks away there was a good deal of extra activity at the school: the play, the school concert, the older boys carol-singing in the town, and all of the boys making Christmas presents. Model aeroplanes, boats, spacecraft were all in the process of being glued, nailed and painted, destined for brothers and sisters at home. Cards were designed and painted, drawings framed for admiring mothers and fathers, calendars cut out and suitably ornamented for devoted grannies, and, as well as all this, there were lessons as usual.

  Araminta, racing round making beds, looking for small lost garments, helping to write letters home, helping with the presents and making suitable costumes for the play, and that on top of her usual chores, had no time to think about her own life. Only at last when she had her free day did she take time to think about the future.

  She didn’t go home; her parents would be coming back during the following week and she would go then. She wrapped up warmly and walked briskly along the promenade, oblivious of the wind and the rain.

  It seemed obvious to her that she wouldn’t see Marcus again. It must have been pure chance which led him to visit his sister while she was staying there. Indeed, it was always pure chance when they met. He had had no choice but to offer to drive her back to Eastbourne.

  ‘I must forget him,’ said Araminta, shouting it into the wind.