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  The coffee came and presently Mrs Bates to lead them upstairs and show first Mrs Duvant to a room at the front of the house and then Annis to hers; a charming apartment overlooking the surprisingly large garden at the back. Annis, used to the rather spartan simplicity at the Rectory, poked her head into the adjoining bathroom, smoothed the silken quilt and opened a drawer or two, lined with tissue paper and smelling of lavender. There was a builtin wardrobe too and a couple of small inviting easy chairs. Definitely a room to enjoy, she decided as she tidied herself at the little walnut dressing table, brushed her hair into a glossy curtain, and went downstairs.

  Mrs Duvant was in the hall, talking to Bates. ‘There’s an hour or more before lunch, let’s go over the house.’ She was as excited as a small child with a new toy.

  So with Mrs Bates sailing ahead of them, and Mrs Duvant trotting behind with Annis beside her, they set off. It was to be no lightning tour—that was obvious from the start. Mrs Duvant stopped every few steps to examine curtains, stooped to inspect carpets and insinuate her round person into cupboards. They started with the dining room, an elegantly furnished room with an oval mahogany table and six charming Adam chairs around it; there were half a dozen more chairs against the walls and a handsome sideboard, on which was displayed a selection of silver gilt. The walls were hung with sea green brocade and almost covered with what Annis took to be family portraits. A delightful room; she could find no fault with it, nor for that matter could its owner.

  The drawing-room took a good deal longer; it was a large room with white panelling and a China blue ceiling, ornamented with a good deal of plasterwork, and the furniture was plentiful and elaborate; moreover there were innumerable ornaments scattered about its small tables. Annis found it a little too grand for her taste and uttered a sigh of pleasure at the morning room on the other side of the hall, a simple little room which Mrs Duvant dismissed quickly enough. The sitting room they had already seen and by then it was time for lunch, anyway.

  Refreshed by oyster soup, omelette with a side salad and a rich creamy dessert, taken with a glass of white wine, Mrs Duvant declared herself ready to inspect the upper floors. And that took most of the afternoon, what with a long discussion about new curtains for one of the bedrooms, and a meticulous inspection of the linen closet on the top floor, but presently they were sitting by the fire having tea and with the prospect of the evening before them.

  ‘I’ve got tickets for the concert in the Assembly Rooms, dear,’ observed Mrs Duvant. ‘If we have dinner a little early, we shall be in good time for it. It doesn’t start before half past eight.’

  Going to bed much later, Annis decided that there was a lot to be said for such a pleasant way of life—not that she would want to change it for her life at the Rectory, but like any other girl, she sometimes hankered after the fleshpots.

  They spent almost all the next day shopping: Mrs Duvant, it seemed, was a great shopper and since money didn’t seem to be any problem to her, she bought several things at prices which made Annis lift her eyebrows, but her companion’s enjoyment was so genuine that she could find no objection, and after all, it was her money, and besides, Annis liked her.

  They went to a cinema that evening and the following morning drove back with a firm promise to Bates that Mrs Duvant intended to take up residence in the near future.

  They reached the Rectory at teatime and while Annis rang Matt to come over and collect the Rover and his aunt, Mrs Fothergill sat Mrs Duvant down before the fire and plied her with tea and hot buttered toast.

  It was when Annis joined them that Mrs Duvant, between bites, announced that she would like Annis to accompany her to Bath. ‘Just for a few weeks,’ she said persuasively. ‘I shall be a little lonely at first—if you could spare her? And if she would like to come?’ She glanced a little anxiously at Annis. ‘It would be a job, of course, I forget things and leave things lying around, and paying bills and so on, so you’d be quite busy, dear. Would forty pounds a week suit you? For about six weeks?’

  Two hundred and forty pounds; Mrs Duvant had paid exactly that for a suit in Jaegar’s the day before. A list, expanding every second in Annis’s head, of things which that sum would buy for them all, slowly unrolled itself before Annis’s inward eyes. A washing machine, a new coat for her mother, shoes for the boys, all the tobacco her father could smoke, the dancing slippers little Audrey had set her heart upon… She glanced at her mother and saw that she was doing exactly the same thing. She said promptly: ‘Well, if Mother could manage, I’d love to come, if you think I’d be of any use.’

  ‘Of course you will. That’s settled, then. You’ve no idea how grateful I am, Annis.’ She paused as the door opened and Matt came in. It wasn’t until the hubbub of small talk had died down that she said: ‘Shall we say on Saturday? That gives you four days. Is that time enough?’

  Annis nodded. ‘Plenty. Do I drive you again?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. I can have the Rover for the time being. We must see about getting a car later on.’ She bustled out on a tide of goodbyes, explaining to Matt as they went.

  When the last sounds of the car had died away Mrs Fothergill said: ‘You do want to go, darling? I shall miss you, and so will your father, but it will make a nice change and you’ll have some money.’

  ‘We’ll have some money,’ Annis corrected her. ‘I’ve already made a list, have you?’

  Her mother nodded happily. ‘But it’s your money, Annis. Now tell me, what sort of a house is it?’

  Annis began to tell her, and it took quite a time; she hadn’t quite finished when her father came in from a parish council meeting, and she went to get the supper and make sure that the younger ones were doing their homework properly.

  Back at the Manor House, Mrs Duvant was writing a letter. She wrote as she did most things, with enthusiasm and a great many flourishes of the pen and she smiled a good deal as she wrote. It was a long letter. She read it through, put it in an envelope and addressed it to Jake Royle, whose godmother she was.

  The house at Bath looked very welcoming as Annis drew up before it on Saturday afternoon. It had been a bright, cold day and now that the sun was almost gone there was already a sparkle of frost, but the house blazed with lights, and as they went in Annis noticed the great bowl of daffodils on the hall table and in the little sitting room where they at once went, the window held hyacinths of every colour. There was a vase of roses too, long-stemmed and perfect. Mrs Duvant picked up the card with them and chuckled as she read it, although she didn’t say why.

  ‘We’d like tea, Bates,’ she said briskly, ‘I know it’s rather late, but perhaps Mrs Bates could put dinner back half an hour?’

  So the two of them had tea together round the fire before going upstairs to unpack and get ready for dinner. ‘I always like to change my dress,’ observed Mrs Duvant. ‘Nothing fancy, you know, unless I’m going out, but it somehow makes the evening more of an occasion, if you see what I mean?’

  So Annis took the hint and put on the green jersey, wondering as she did so if she might get herself another dress when she was paid. She and her mother had pored over their lists, scratching out and adding until they had spent her wages, on paper at least, to the greatest advantage. Even after everyone had had something there was a little over for herself—enough for a dress—something plain and dateless to take the place of the outworn blue velvet. Doubtless she would have some time to herself in which to browse among the shops. Annis tugged her green jersey into shape with an impatient hand and went downstairs.

  She discovered after the first few days that her duties were light in the extreme and consisted mainly in finding Mrs Duvant’s spectacles, handbag, library book and knitting whenever she mislaid them, which was often, reminding her of the various things she wished to do each day, and unpicking her knitting when she got it in a muddle; that was pretty often too. The pair of them got on excellently together and since Annis got on equally well with the Bates’, the household was a happy one.

  She had been there a week when the even tenor of her days was unexpectedly shaken. Mrs Duvant had the habit of retiring for an afternoon nap after lunch each day, leaving Annis to do as she wished. Previously she had gone for a brisk walk, done some window shopping and taken herself round the Roman Baths, but this afternoon it was raining, not a soft rain to be ignored, but a steady, icy downpour. Annis decided on a book by the fire as she came downstairs after seeing Mrs Duvant safely tucked up. There were plenty of books in the sitting room and an hour or so with one of them would be very pleasant.

  Bates met her on the stairs. ‘Mr Royle has arrived, miss—he’s in the drawing room.’

  Annis stood staring at him, her mouth a little open. ‘Mr Royle? What on earth…I didn’t know Mrs Duvant was expecting him.’ She suppressed the little spurt of excitement at the idea of meeting him again and reminded herself that she didn’t like him, which made her voice sound reluctant.

  ‘I suppose I’d better go…’ her voice trailed off and Bates coughed gently. ‘It would be a pity to disturb Mrs Duvant,’ he reminded her.

  Annis took a step down. ‘Yes, of course, Bates.’

  She went past him, crossed the hall, opened the drawing room door reluctantly and went unwillingly inside.

  Jake Royle was standing, very much at home, before the fire. She said idiotically: ‘Oh, hullo, Bates told me you were here. I’m afraid Mrs Duvant’s having a nap, she always does after lunch.’

  ‘Yes, I know that.’ He smiled at her, and since it was obvious after a moment that he wasn’t going to say anything else, she plunged into speech.

  ‘Aren’t you going back to New Zealand?’ she asked.

  His firm mouth twitched. ‘Is that where you would consign me, Annis?’

  ‘Of
course not, Mr Royle. Why should I consign you anywhere?’

  ‘My name is Jake.’ He went on standing there, watching her and she sought feverishly for a topic of conversation. ‘I’m staying with Mrs Duvant,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, I know that too.’

  She frowned. At least he could give a hand with the conversation, the wretch! ‘I expect you’ll be staying for tea? I’m sure Mrs Duvant will want to see you.’

  He grinned at her. ‘I’m here for a few days—I visit Aunt Dora from time to time—we’ve known each other since I was a small boy,’ and at the look of surprise on her face: ‘Oh, she’s not a genuine aunt, just an adopted one.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I see. Perhaps you’d like to see your room?’

  He answered her gravely enough, although his eyes danced with amusement.

  ‘I expect Bates has taken my things upstairs for me. I’d love some tea—we can always have it again when Aunt Dora comes down.’

  Annis, intent on being coolly impersonal, only succeeded in looking delightfully flustered as she rang the bell and rather belatedly asked if he would sit down, rather pink now at her lack of manners and a little cross because Jake seemed to have the power to make her feel shy and awkward, something which she, a parson’s daughter, had learned not to be at an early age. And when tea came she was furious to find that her hands shook as she poured it. Jake, observing this, smiled to himself and embarked on a steady flow of small talk which was only interrupted by the arrival of Mrs Duvant, who came trotting in, her round face wreathed in smiles.

  ‘Now isn’t this nice?’ she aked them. ‘Annis, ring for more tea, will you? And I’ve left my spectacles somewhere… Jake, I hope you can stay for a few days—you’ve got your car with you, I suppose? you can drive us… Ah, thank you, dear, I knew I’d put them down somewhere.’ She paused to pour tea. ‘There’s a concert at the Assembly Rooms this evening, will you come with us?’

  Jake agreed lazily. ‘Anything you say, Aunt Dora. I hope it’s not Bach?’

  ‘Strauss and Schubert and someone singing, but I can’t remember the name.’

  ‘As long as she’s nice to look at.’

  Annis, drinking her unwanted tea, wondered what on earth she should wear; the green or the blue velvet? She had nothing else, and if only she’d known she would have bought that blue crêpe dress, the one she had seen in Milsom Street; after all, she had her first week’s money in her purse. Now it was too late. She knitted her brows; there was no earthly reason why she should fuss over what she should wear. What was good enough for her and Mrs Duvant was good enough for Jake Royle, it couldn’t matter in the least to him what she wore. There would be dozens of pretty girls there, wearing gorgeous outfits. She became aware that they were both looking at her, Mrs Duvant smiling, Jake with his brows lifted in amusement. They must have said something.

  ‘I’m sorry, did you ask me something?’

  ‘No, love—I was just telling Jake what a delightful week we’ve had together.’

  So why was Jake looking amused? Annis gave him a frosty look and offered him more cake.

  She wore the green with the gold chain, and when she went downstairs it was a relief to find that Mrs Duvant was wearing a plain wool dress, and although Jake had changed, the suit he had on was a conservative grey. She had to admit that it fitted him very well. So it should, considering what it had cost to have it made.

  Dinner had a slightly festive air, partly due to the champagne Jake had brought with him, and partly owing to Mrs Duvant’s high spirits. She was such a happy person it was impossible to be ill-tempered or miserable in her company.

  They set off for the Assembly Rooms presently, in the best of spirits, driving through the rain-swept streets in Jake’s Bentley, Mrs Duvant beside him wrapped in mink, and Annis behind, in her elderly winter coat. She was enjoying herself so much that she had quite forgotten that.

  They sat with Mrs Duvant in between them and listened to the excellent orchestra, and later when the singer appeared, and turned out to be not only a very pretty woman but with a glorious voice, Annis couldn’t stop herself from turning a little and peeping at Jake. He wasn’t looking at the singer at all, but at her. He smiled before he looked away, leaving her with the feeling that although she didn’t like him, she was becoming very aware of his charm.

  When the concert was over they had a drink before going back to the house and she was nonplussed to find his manner towards her casual to the point of coolness; she must have imagined the warmth of that smile, and anyway, she told herself peevishly, why was she getting all worked up about it? She couldn’t care less what he thought of her.

  When they got back she waited merely to ask Mrs Duvant if she needed her for anything before saying goodnight and going to her room. It had been a lovely evening, she told Mrs Duvant, and she had enjoyed herself very much. Her goodnight to Jake was brisk and delivered to his chin, since she wanted to avoid looking at him.

  It would be a pity, she thought as she undressed, if he were to upset the gentle pattern of their days, but since he was to stay only a short time, that didn’t really matter. She dismissed him from her thoughts and went to sleep, to dream, most infuriatingly, of him all night.

  Mrs Duvant wasn’t at breakfast the next morning, but Jake was. He was at table, reading the paper and making great inroads into eggs and bacon when Annis went down at her usual time. He got to his feet, wished her a friendly good morning, hoped that she had slept well, passed her the coffee pot and resumed his breakfast. Only good manners, she felt, prevented him from picking up his newspaper again.

  Instead he carried on a desultory conversation, just sufficient to put her at her ease. Indeed, by the time their meal was finished, she found herself talking to him with something which amounted to pleasure.

  ‘Aunt Dora wants to visit the American Museum this morning,’ he told her as they left the room together. ‘There’s some embroidery exhibited there she intends to study. You’ll be coming?’ His voice was nicely casual.

  ‘I expect so, Mrs Duvant likes someone with her, but perhaps if you’re going there…’

  He gave her a glance full of amused mockery. ‘My dear Annis, I know absolutely nothing about embroidery.’

  She left him in the hall, wishing as she went upstairs that he was as nice as he had been at breakfast all the time, and not just when he felt like it. The way he looked at her with that horrid half-smile… She bounced into her room, dragged a comb ruthlessly through her hair, which didn’t need it anyway, and went along to see how Mrs Duvant did. If it were possible, she would see if she could get out of going out that morning.

  It wasn’t possible. Mrs Duvant was so enthusiastic about the outing, pointing out how useful Annis was going to be, although Annis couldn’t quite see why, that she didn’t even suggest it. And as it turned out, Jake was charming, and once they got to the embroidery exhibition, wandered off on his own, leaving Mrs Duvant to exclaim over feather-stitching, smocking and the like while she made Annis write down a variety of notes which she thought might be useful to her later on.

  It was during lunch that Jake observed that he would have to go back to London in two days’ time. Annis was shocked at the keen disappointment she felt when he said it; she couldn’t stand the sight of him—well, for most of the time anyway, but she would miss him. Which made it all the stranger that she hesitated about going downstairs again after she had tucked Mrs Duvant up for her post-prandial nap. But as she left Mrs Duvant’s room she saw Jake disappearing out of the front door. She would be able to go downstairs and read by the fire in the small sitting room; she didn’t want him to think that she was avoiding his company—that was if he thought about it at all, nor did she wish to bore him with her own company if he had a mind to be on his own. She found her book and curled up in one of the deep arm chairs drawn up to the cheerful fire.

  She had read two pages when the door opened and Jake came in. ‘Ah,’ he said blandly, ‘I had an idea you might have gone into hiding for the afternoon.’

  A remark which instantly set her on edge. ‘And why should you think that?’ she wanted to know tartly. ‘I have no reason to hide.’