The Convenient Wife Read online

  As she switched on the light she called, ‘Granny,’ but the little house was silent. She put down her bag and went into the sitting-room, turning on the light as she did so. The fire had burned low and her grandmother was sitting in her chair, her knitting in her lap, and Venetia knew before she reached her and felt for her pulse that she wouldn’t be able to find it. She said, ‘Granny?’ again in a frightened voice, and put her young arms around the elderly shoulders. She stayed like that for a few minutes, thrusting back grief. That could come later…

  There was no telephone in the cottage. She crossed the road to one of the neighbours and phoned her grandmother’s doctor, and then went back and waited quietly for him to come, sitting very still, her granny’s hand in hers.

  It was the end of the month before the professor returned to St Jude’s, and, after discussing the operation he intended doing on the following day, he got into his car and drove himself to his house. He was going through Hampstead when he saw Percy Lane’s narrow opening, and on an impulse he turned the car into it. He wasn’t sure why he was going—Venetia probably wouldn’t be there. He was being foolish, and he was annoyed at that.

  There was a light shining between the drawn curtains and the front door was open. He got out of the car and pushed the door wider, and noticed then that there was a house agent’s board fastened on to the wall beside it. He said, ‘Venetia, I’m coming in,’ and pushed the sitting-room door open. She was sitting at the little round table by the window, her hands in her lap, and the face she turned to him was so white and weary that he said quickly, ‘What’s the matter? Are you ill?’ His dark eyes swept round the little room; it was scrupulously tidy, and also very cold. ‘Your grandmother?’ he asked.

  Venetia supposed that she should have felt surprise at seeing him, but she didn’t. She said in her quiet way, ‘She died rather suddenly, two weeks ago.’

  ‘My poor girl.’ He undid his coat, tossed his gloves on to the table and sat down opposite her. ‘The house is up for sale. Why are you sitting here in the cold alone?’

  She said steadily, ‘Well, you see, this house doesn’t belong to Granny now—there was some arrangement she made a long time ago—she sold it to some kind of company, and they let her have the money for it then so that she had an income.’ She added seriously, ‘The rates are rather high, you know, and there wasn’t any other money, only her pension. That’s why I’m here—someone’s coming with some papers for me to sign…’

  ‘Have you no solicitor?’

  ‘Oh, yes, but you see it wasn’t convenient for him to come here in the evening, and he said it was all right for me to sign them.’ She went on in her sensible way, ‘The furniture is mine.’

  ‘You have family?’

  ‘No. At least, only a cousin of my father, whom I’ve never met. He and my father didn’t like each other, and I don’t suppose he would want to hear from me.’

  He got up and shut the door. ‘When is this man coming?’

  She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Now, if he’s punctual. Can I get you a cup of tea? I’m so sorry I didn’t ask you…’

  Someone knocked on the door and he got up. ‘I’ll answer that. Are you having days off?’ And when she nodded he added, ‘And sleeping here?’

  ‘They said I could stay until the end of the month. There are things to pack up.’

  He nodded and went to the front door, and presently he ushered in a businesslike-looking man with a briefcase. ‘Go ahead,’ he invited him. ‘I’m merely here in an advisory capacity.’

  A remark which made Venetia blink with surprise. She still wasn’t thinking straight, but she was conscious of relief that the professor should have appeared on her doorstep just when she knew she needed someone. She wished the man good evening, and set herself to read the papers he offered her. Then she passed them over to the professor, who read them, too. They were quite in order, and it was no good pointing out that if the house had been Venetia’s on her grandmother’s death she would have been able to sell it for three times the amount her grandmother had received for it.

  Venetia sighed, offered tea and was refused, and watched the professor see the man to the door. When he came back into the room she got up.

  ‘Thank you very much, Professor,’ she said politely. ‘It was very kind of you to stay. Now I have only to pack up and get somewhere to store the furniture.’ She added, unconsciously wistful, ‘Would you like a cup of tea before you go?’

  ‘No. Get whatever you need for the night. You’re coming back with me.’

  Her white face flushed faintly. ‘Indeed, I am not, Professor. It is very kind of you to suggest it—’

  ‘I’m not being kind, I’m being sensible. You can’t stay alone. My housekeeper will look after you, and you can return in the morning and do whatever you have to do.’

  He sounded reassuringly disinterested.

  ‘But won’t it interfere with your evening?’

  ‘Why should it? I’m going out to dinner, and shall not be back until late, and I’m operating in the morning. I suggest that you spend your two nights at my house and come and go as you please.’ He turned a frowning look upon her. ‘I’m already a little late.’

  Put like that, there wasn’t much that she could do about it and, indeed, she hadn’t quite regained her usual independent spirit. She pushed a few things into her overnight bag, locked up and put on her coat, to be bustled out and into the Bentley, greatly to the interest of the neighbours.

  It was a dark, misty evening and later there would be a frost. Venetia was grateful for the warmth of the big car, and at the same time realised that she was hungry. She hadn’t waited for tea at the hospital, and her midday dinner had been gobbled because she had been delayed on the ward by old Mr Thirsk, who was recovering from a stomach operation and had mislaid his glasses. It had taken her a few minutes to find them among the bedclothes, and by then his neighbour was demanding that his water jug be filled. Somehow her hunger was the last straw; she had just parted with what had been her home for some years, and she had very little idea what to do next. Go on nursing, of course, but there was the question of the furniture, and the solicitor had mentioned several outstanding bills. To her horrified shame her eyes filled with tears. They dripped down her cheeks, getting worse every moment. She put out her tongue and did her best to catch them, and sniffed discreetly, but she was quite unable to stop. It was a good thing that her companion was looking ahead of him. She turned her head away and gazed unseeingly out of the window.

  The professor had turned into a wide road skirting the Heath, with houses standing well back, surrounded by large gardens, overlooking the fields and trees. He turned into an open gateway and stopped before the lighted porch of the house at the very end of the road, switched off the engine and asked quietly, ‘Why are you crying, Venetia?’ At the same time he offered her a handkerchief.

  She mopped her eyes, blew her small nose defiantly, and said in a sodden voice, ‘You’re so kind.’ She looked at him over the hanky. ‘I’m very sorry—Mother always said that nothing annoyed a man more than women weeping.’ She gave a gulp and scrubbed at her face. ‘It’s just that it’s one thing on top of another,’ she mumbled.

  He put out an arm and drew her close so that her head was on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but the comfort of it started her weeping once more. He let her cry for several minutes and then said, ‘We’ll sort things out tomorrow. I’ll be home after lunch for a couple of hours. I think it will be best if you stay here until I get back, then we can talk about it. It will be easier with two.’

  She sniffed into his coat. ‘I’m not usually so silly, but it was all a bit sudden.’

  ‘And you had no one to turn to,’ he said softly. He disentangled her from his shoulder and undid her seat-belt, then got out to open her door. ‘Mrs Todd will look after you and give you supper.’ He had opened the door with his key, and ushered her inside. The hall was large and square, lit by a crystal chandelier h
anging from a plastered ceiling, and a curved staircase rose from one side. There were a number of doors leading from it, and from one of these came a small, round woman with grey hair piled high in elaborate rolls, wearing a neat dark dress.

  ‘There you are, sir.’ She trotted to meet them. ‘Todd’s laid out your things. And can I get you anything…?’ Her small twinkling eyes studied Venetia.

  ‘Mrs Todd, I’ve brought Miss Venetia Forbes back here for a couple of nights. Will you see that she has supper? And give her the room overlooking the back garden, will you? Perhaps you would take her there now, and then come back to me.’

  Mrs Todd smiled and nodded. ‘Right, sir. If Miss Forbes would like to come upstairs…’

  It was a lovely house, thought Venetia, following Mrs Todd obediently. Not only lovely to look at, but it felt…she sought for a word…like home, warm and welcoming and softly lit. She had no doubt, either, that it was run on oiled wheels. She sighed and Mrs Todd turned round to say kindly, ‘You’re tired, miss. I can see that. A nice supper and then bed—there’s nothing like a night’s sleep to get you on your feet again.’

  She opened a door on the balcony above the staircase and ushered Venetia inside. The room was quite large, with a large window draped in old rose chintz; the counterpane on the bed matched exactly, and the rose colour was repeated on the small armchair and the bedside lights. The carpet was thick, a rich cream colour which, reflected Venetia, her housewifely instincts aroused, would be quite a problem to keep pristine. She glanced guiltily at her own shoes and then apologetically at Mrs Todd, who only smiled in a cosy way and led her into the adjoining bathroom.

  ‘You just tidy yourself, miss, and then come downstairs. Todd’ll be there to show you where to go. And just you ask me if there’s anything you need.’

  Examining the dressing-table, a dainty affair of maple wood, and then the bathroom, Venetia decided that someone had provided everything a girl could want cosmetic-wise. It would be lovely to use them, but she decided against that; she was only there for a couple of nights, and she supposed that anything used, however sparingly, would have to be replaced. She washed her face and hands, powdered her prosaic features, tidied her hair and went down the stairs.

  Todd was waiting for her, a small round man, exactly right for Mrs Todd, but with a great deal of dignity. He bade her good evening, opened a door and silently ushered her into what she supposed was the drawing-room. It extended from the front of the house to the back, its parquet floor strewn with silky rugs, and a number of comfortable armchairs and sofas disposed about it. The professor rose from an outsize chair by the open fire and came to meet her. ‘Ah—just time for us to have a drink before I go out. I made it clear that you are to spend your nights off duty here? You will have a good deal to do during the next few days. It would be satisfactory if you could settle everything before you go back to St Jude’s.’

  He handed her a glass of sherry and sat down opposite her chair. ‘I shall be here shortly after two o’clock tomorrow. It would be helpful if you had decided by then exactly what you intend to do with your possessions, so that arrangements can be made.’

  She took a sip of sherry and said thoughtfully, ‘You are awfully kind, Professor, but please don’t bother. I’m very grateful for your hospitality, but I’ll manage quite well—’

  ‘Are you telling me not to interfere?’ His voice was chilly.

  ‘My goodness me, no. Only I think I’ve been enough bother to you already.’

  ‘Which is no reason for us to leave things half done.’

  A remark which struck her as decidedly indifferent to her feelings, to say the least.

  He went away presently with a polite wish that she should enjoy her evening and go to bed at a reasonably early hour, and she in her turn was invited by Todd to accompany him to a pleasant room at the back of the house, where she dined deliciously and in solitary state, and then, not wishing to disrupt the household more than necessary, elected to go to bed.

  To her surprise the professor was in the hall, magnificent in a dinner-jacket and looking ill-tempered. He was listening to someone on the telephone, and said curtly, ‘I have been delayed, unavoidably so.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I should with luck be with you in twenty minutes.’ He put down the phone, frowned at her, rumbled something which might have been goodnight, and let himself out of the house.

  Venetia stood on the bottom stair and listened to the car being driven away. A staid tabby cat had arranged itself comfortably on one of the high-backed chairs in the hall, and she addressed it for lack of any other audience. ‘Poor man. I am being a nuisance, but he didn’t have to make it quite so obvious, did he? I dare say that was his girlfriend telling him off.’

  The cat settled herself just so and began on a meticulous toilet, and Venetia turned and went upstairs. ‘I am lapped in luxury,’ she told herself as she went, ‘so I have no reason to feel lonely.’ But she was.

  She spent all of ten minutes wondering about the professor, guessing wildly at his life, wondering, too, whereabouts he lived in Holland. No wife, she decided. Somehow he didn’t strike her as the kind of man to leave his wife at home while he took up residence somewhere else for weeks on end. She was inventing a beautiful blonde sitting opposite him in some exclusive restaurant at the very moment when she fell asleep.

  A cheerful girl brought her early-morning tea, wished her a good morning and begged her to stay in bed, since Mrs Todd was even then cooking her breakfast and would bring it up herself.

  Which that good lady did, not ten minutes later: scrambled eggs, crisp toast, orange juice and a pot of coffee. ‘And mind you eat every crumb, miss,’ she urged. ‘You could do with a bit more flesh on your bones. A nasty time you’ve been having, by all accounts, and a good lie-in will do you the world of good. There’ll be coffee if you want it when you come downstairs, and I’ll dish up a nice little lunch at half-past twelve sharp, since the professor expects to be home earlier than he thought. Phoned he did, ten minutes ago. He’ll have a sandwich and a glass of beer at the hospital and then come right home.’

  Venetia longed to ask questions, there was so much she wanted to know about the professor, but she held her tongue. Mrs Todd was a kind little chatterbox, but she suspected that to chatter about her employer would be the last thing the housekeeper would do.

  She ate her breakfast, had a bath—much too hot and lengthy—dressed and went downstairs. Todd, with the cat trailing him, came to meet her in the hall. ‘Good morning, miss. The professor asked me to suggest to you that you should decide which firm you wish to employ to dispose of your furniture. It will save time this afternoon, and allow arrangements to be made.’

  He opened the door to the room where she had had dinner. There was a fire burning brightly, and coffee on a tray placed invitingly on a drum table, by a small armchair. ‘I have put the local telephone directory on the table in the window, miss. Also today’s newspaper.’

  After the bleak weeks she had struggled through it seemed like a dream world. She sipped coffee and studied the lists of firms who might be suitable. There were one or two things she would like to keep: a papier-mâché work-table which had belonged to her mother, a small collection of her grandmother’s books, one or two pieces of silver left from more affluent days… She made a tidy list of these, picked out the more modest firms who might dispose of the furniture, and opened the Daily Telegraph, suppressing a feeling of guilt because she wasn’t going to do anything useful.

  She lunched deliciously: watercress soup, cream sitting on its smooth green; a cheese soufflé; baked apple dumplings with a rich custard; and more coffee afterwards. She was just finishing her second cup when the professor walked in. He was followed by Todd, bringing fresh coffee, and sat down at the table. Venetia wished him good afternoon and received a beetle-browed stare. Evidently he was in no need of the niceties of speech; she finished her coffee and waited silently.

  ‘If you have decided what you wish to do with your furnitu
re and who is to deal with it, there is no reason why the business shouldn’t be settled at once. Presumably you don’t have any more days off for another week?’

  ‘No, I don’t. And I should like to get everything settled today and tomorrow. I have chosen a firm I think will do. A local business—perhaps they could collect the furniture before I go back to the hospital.’

  He put down his cup. ‘Then let us go without delay.’

  ‘Give me two minutes,’ begged Venetia, and belted upstairs to fetch her coat and handbag. He was obviously impatient to get the whole business settled; indeed, she suspected that he probably regretted even offering to help her in the first place. Well, two could be businesslike; she nipped down to the hall, intent on getting through the afternoon’s business as quickly as possible.

  Things went smoothly. At the professor’s instigation, someone from the house furnishers she had elected to go to accompanied them to her grandmother’s house and, since it was a small place and there wasn’t a great deal of furniture, within the hour he had assessed its contents and named a price, with the undertaking that it would be removed on the following day and a cheque for the amount paid to her if she cared to call in the afternoon. Moreover, he offered to store the one or two pieces she wished to keep. The matter nicely settled, they all drove back to his place of business where Venetia arranged to call on the following day.

  The professor had had little to say, but what he had said had been very much to the point and with no words wasted. She got back into the car and they drove back to his house and went indoors. In the hall he said, ‘I suggest that you telephone your solicitor and anyone else concerned with your affairs. There’s a phone in the small sitting-room.’ He turned away. ‘You will excuse me if I leave you? I have some letters to dictate before I go back to St Jude’s.’

  ‘Thank you very much for your help, Professor. I’m very grateful.’

  He paused at his study door. ‘You have no relations other than your father’s cousin who has no interest in you?’