A Girl to Love Page 4

  ‘I’m quite sure, Sadie, and it will be something quite different for the children. Now when shall we go to Bath?’

  ‘Well, I’d like to get the washing done tomorrow…we could go on Tuesday. Do you want to buy the girls’ presents then?’

  ‘Certainly, though I have no idea what to get—I believe they have everything.’

  She began to clear away the tea things. ‘Do they like dolls?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure they do.’ He sounded impatient and when he got out of the chair she said quietly: ‘Supper will be about half past seven, Mr Trentham, if that suits you?’

  He gave a grunting reply and a minute later she heard the typewriter. He was, she decided, a glutton for work.

  It was cold and bright and frosty on Tuesday, and leaving Tom in charge curled up by the fire, they set out directly after breakfast. Sadie had on her best coat, bought several years earlier more with an eye to its warmth and durability than its fashion. She wore her hat too, a plain felt of the same mouse brown as the coat. Mr Trentham glanced at her and then away again quickly. The women he took out were smart, exquisitely turned out and very expensive. There was only one word for Sadie and that was dowdy. He felt suddenly very sorry for her, and then, taking another quick glance at her happy young face, realised that his pity was quite wasted.

  They parked the car in the multi-storey car park and walked the short distance to the centre of the city, but before Sadie was allowed to look at shop windows they had coffee in an olde-worlde coffee shop near the Abbey, and only when they had done that did they start their shopping.

  Sadie had supposed that he would arrange to meet her for lunch and go off on his own, but he showed no sign of doing this, instead he led the way towards Milsom Street shopping precinct where all the better shops were. ‘Blue or green,’ he told her, examining the models in the windows, ‘and don’t buy a hat, get a beret. How much money have you?’

  She didn’t mind him being so dictatorial, it was like being taken out by an elder brother, she supposed. ‘Well, the salary you gave me, and I’ve some money in the bank…’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Mr Banks isn’t quite sure, but at least two hundred pounds.’ She looked at him enquiringly. Not a muscle of his face moved, as he said gravely:

  ‘I should think you could safely spend half of that as well as your salary—you’ll only need a little money for odds and ends, won’t you?’

  ‘Well, I must get one or two Christmas presents.’

  ‘Probably the amount Mr Banks sends you will be more than he estimates.’

  ‘You think so? Then I’ll spend half of it.’ Then her face clouded. ‘Only I haven’t got it yet.’

  ‘I’ll let you have a hundred pounds and you can repay me when you get it.’

  She hesitated. ‘You don’t mind?’

  ‘Not in the least. It would be highly inconvenient if I had to spend another day shopping.’ He added with the lazy good humour she was beginning to recognise: ‘So let’s enjoy ourselves today.’

  It took her a little while to get started; she had never had so much money to spend before in her life and she was afraid to break into the wad of notes in her purse. They went from one shop to the next, and if Mr Trentham was bored he never said so. Sadie settled finally on a green tweed coat and a matching skirt with a beret to match it and, since they hadn’t cost a great deal, a sapphire blue wool dress, very simply cut. By then it was time for lunch. He took her to a restaurant called The Laden Table in George Street. It was fairly small but fashionable and Sadie wished with all her heart that she was wearing the new outfit, but she forgot that presently, made very much at her ease by Mr Trentham, who when he chose to exert himself could be an amusing companion. Besides, the food was delicious and the glass of sherry he offered her before they started their meal went to her head so that she forgot that she was by far the shabbiest woman in the room.

  She spent the afternoon mostly by herself. Now that Mr Trentham had guided her away from the dreary colours which did nothing for her, he felt that he could safely leave her. ‘Get a pretty blouse or two,’ he suggested casually, ‘and a couple of sweaters—and no brown, mind. I’ll be at the coffee house at four o’clock, and mind you don’t keep me waiting.’

  So she spent a long time in Marks and Spencer, and came out loaded, not only with the blouses and sweaters but with a pink quilted dressing gown and slippers and a pile of undies. There was precious little money left in her purse, but she didn’t care; she had all the things she had wanted most and she was content.

  She got to the coffee house with a minute to spare and found him already there. She turned a radiant face to his and he took her parcels. ‘I’ve bought everything I ever wanted,’ she told him breathlessly, ‘well, almost everything. It’s been a lovely day.’

  Over tea she asked him: ‘Did you get the presents for your little girls?’

  He nodded. ‘I took your advice and got those workbaskets you liked. It seems a funny present for a little girl…’

  ‘No, it’s not; they like doing things, you know, and it isn’t like asking for a needle and cotton from a grown-up, everything in the basket’s theirs.’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it. If you’ve finished your tea we’d better go, Tom will be in despair.’

  Sadie sat beside him in the car, enjoying the speed and his good driving. It was a cold dark evening now, but the car was warm and very comfortable, and since he didn’t want to talk, she thought about her new clothes and imagined herself wearing them. Mrs Durrant would no longer be able to look down her beaky nose at her on Sundays, and at Christmas she would wear the blue dress.

  At the cottage, the car unloaded and the parcels on the kitchen table, Mr Trentham said briefly: ‘I’d like bacon and eggs for my supper,’ and stalked away to the dining room and presently she heard the clink of bottle and glass and sighed. He drank a little too much, she considered. To counteract the whisky, she would give him cocoa with his supper.

  She fed Tom, made up the fire and went to take off her things. Unwrapping the parcels would have to come later; first Mr Trentham must have his eggs and bacon.

  She set the table in the sitting room and called him when she had carried their meal in. He came at once and sat down without speaking. Only when he took a drink from his cup he put it down with a thump and a furious: ‘What the hell’s this I’m drinking?’

  ‘Cocoa,’ said Sadie mildly. Even in such a short time, she had got used to his sudden spurts of temper and took no notice of them.

  Just for a moment she thought that he was going to fling it at her across the table. Instead he burst out laughing. ‘I haven’t had cocoa since I was a small boy.’ He stared at her for a long moment. ‘Now I’m a middle-aged man. How old do you think I am, Sadie?’

  She was too honest to pretend that she hadn’t thought about it. ‘Well, it’s hard to say,’ she said carefully. ‘When you’re pleased about something you look about thirty-five.’

  ‘And when I’m not pleased?’

  ‘Oh, older, of course.’ She smiled at him. ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘I’m forty next birthday,’ he told her briefly. ‘Does that seem very old to you?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, it’s not even middle-aged. Besides, you’ve got your little daughters to keep you young.’

  ‘So I have.’ He sounded bitter and she wondered why, suddenly curious to know more about him. It was strange, the two of them living in the same house and knowing nothing about each other. She reminded herself that she worked for him, her life was so utterly different from what she imagined his to be when he wasn’t living at the cottage. Presumably he would finish whatever he was working on that so engrossed him, and tire of the peace and quiet and go back to London.

  He went back to the dining room when he’d finished his supper, calling a careless goodnight as he went, and presently Sadie went up to bed. She tried on all the new clothes before she turned out the light. They still looked marvellous, but
for some reason the first excitement at wearing them had gone. There was, after all, no one to notice them, least of all Mr Trentham.

  CHAPTER THREE

  SADIE SAW very little of Mr Trentham for the next two or three days. He appeared for his meals and ate them with evident enjoyment, but for the greater part of the day he was shut in the dining room with his typewriter and when he did emerge it was to put on his sheepskin jacket and go for a walk. On the fourth morning, however, he drove off in his car, saying that he wouldn’t be in for lunch, but hoped to be back for tea. Which gave Sadie a chance to rush through the cottage, making as much noise as she liked, polishing furniture and hoovering floors and cleaning windows. It took her all the morning, and after a quick lunch she sat down to write a list of all the things she would need to buy for Christmas. Mr Trentham had said spare no expense, and although she very much doubted if he would keep his plan to spend Christmas at the cottage, she would have to make all the preparations just the same.

  Mr Trentham didn’t come back for tea; nor did he come back for dinner. Sadie waited until after nine o’clock and when he didn’t come, she ate some of the casserole she had made, and put the rest on one side to be warmed up at a minute’s notice. At eleven o’clock she went to bed. It was silly to worry about him; he was a splendid driver, and a man of forty should be able to look after himself. It took her quite a time to get to sleep.

  He turned up at nine o’clock the next morning, after she had eaten her own breakfast and got the fires going.

  ‘I’d like my breakfast.’ He had flung open the dining room door and was halfway into the room, without saying good morning or hullo. Now he paused to say testily: ‘Well, why are you looking so disapproving?’

  He was coldly, bleakly angry, but Sadie wouldn’t admit even to herself that she was even faintly scared. ‘You went away yesterday morning, Mr Trentham, and said that you expected to be back for tea. If you’d phoned I wouldn’t have cooked supper…’

  He said in an amused, mocking voice which she found worse than anger: ‘Since when must I keep my housekeeper informed of my comings and goings?’ He added: ‘I don’t pay you to be nosey.’

  Sadie blushed so hotly that she could feel the whole of her face burning. All the same, she stood her ground. She said with great dignity: ‘I was not being nosey…’ She had intended to say a good deal more but altered it to, ‘I’ll get your breakfast at once.’

  She was a gentle girl, not given to rages, but she seethed as she cooked bacon and eggs, mushrooms and crisps of fried bread; made coffee and toast. When it was done, she tapped on the dining room door, carried the tray through to the sitting room and went upstairs to her own room, where she sat down at the little table under the window which did duty as a desk, and in a neat hand wrote out her notice, pointing out in the politest way possible that she would be prepared to go at once if he wanted her to, otherwise she would work out her remaining weeks. There was, she advised him, an excellent agency in Bridport where she felt sure he would get someone to suit him in a very short time.

  She addressed an envelope, stuck it down and once downstairs, put it on his desk before going back to the kitchen. Domestic upheavals or not, meals had to be got ready, and she had a tasty minestrone soup already simmering; it had taken her quite a time to prepare, and it was as different from the tinned variety as chalk from cheese. She was grinding a touch more pepper into its delicate aroma when the door burst open and Mr Trentham came charging in waving her notice.

  ‘What the hell do you mean by this?’ he demanded savagely.

  Sadie put the pepper mill down and replaced the saucepan lid. ‘Well, just what I said—wasn’t it clear enough? I’ve never written one before, so I wasn’t sure…’

  ‘And don’t you ever dare to write one again,’ he warned her. ‘Of all the silly female nonsense, just because I happened to be mildly touchy!’

  She stood in front of him, small and thin and even in her gay smock only slightly pretty, but she was quite unruffled now only though a little pale. ‘I am not a silly female,’ she pointed out with calm, ‘and if that’s what you’re like when you’re mildly touchy then I shan’t bother with writing my notice if you have an attack of real touchiness, I shall take Tom and go.’ She prevented herself just in time from adding, ‘So there!’

  His great roar of laughter was disconcerting. It was just as disconcerting when he said gravely: ‘If I apologise, will you stay, Sadie? You really are a splendid housekeeper, and if you can ignore my ill temper and my tiresome ways, I would be grateful if you will stay. You’re like a mouse around the place and your cooking is out of this world.’ He smiled with such charm that she found herself smiling back. He held out a hand. ‘Shake on it—I’ll promise not to lose my temper unless I’m absolutely driven to it.’ And when they had solemnly shaken hands: ‘Something smells delicious—is it lunch?’ His elegant nose flared as he sniffed.

  ‘Only soup, and it’s for lunch.’ She spoke in a matter-of-fact voice. ‘Would you like your coffee now?’

  ‘Please.’ He rarely said please and she blinked her long lashes. ‘And I want to talk to you about Christmas.’

  ‘I’ll be ten minutes, Mr Trentham.’

  But he didn’t mention Christmas to start with. ‘I went to a conference,’ he told her. ‘I’m half way through a script for a series—short stories really, linked together by one theme, love. The producer couldn’t see eye to eye with me about it,’ his lip curled. ‘The fellow could only see love in terms of bedroom scenes, but there’s more to it than that—there must be, because some people have been lucky enough to find it. I’ve persuaded him to change his mind, but it left me…mildly touchy.’

  She gave him a thoughtful look. ‘Are you very famous?’

  His brows rose. ‘I could be falsely modest and say no, but I’ll be honest and say that for the time being at least, yes, I’m famous among my kind.’

  He passed his cup for more coffee. ‘And what do you think about love, Sadie?’

  ‘Me? Well, I don’t know, when I was at school I had crushes on tennis players and film actors, but I don’t think I’ve been in love with anyone.’

  Mr Trentham nodded. ‘Well, it’s for people like you I’m writing this series.’

  ‘I expect I’ll enjoy it, then.’

  ‘You’re free to give me an honest criticism when you see it. And now about Christmas. I’m going to fetch the children down next week—Miss Murch will come too, of course. They’ll be here for about three weeks. Will you be able to manage? I’ll get extra help in if you need it.’

  ‘Oh, but why should I? Miss Murch will be here to look after Anna and Julie, won’t she? And it’s as easy to cook for five as it is for two, especially when I don’t have to be economical.’

  ‘Get all you need to make a good Christmas for the children. I shall be here for Christmas Day, but I’ve a number of invitations; I daresay I shall be away for a good deal of the time. Most of my friends live in London and there’s a good deal of merrymaking planned.’

  Sadie felt a pang of disappointment. ‘Yes, of course,’ she agreed cheerfully, ‘but there’ll be plenty for the girls to do. Does Miss Murch like the country?’

  ‘I haven’t the least idea.’ He was suddenly bored with it all and with a muttered excuse, went back to his typewriter.

  Sadie went down to the village the next morning and gave Mrs Beamish an order to make that lady’s eyes sparkle. ‘My word,’ she exclaimed, ‘wouldn’t your granny have been pleased, spending all that money on extras!’

  And Sadie agreed, hiding a sorrow for the old lady because she knew that her grandmother would have disliked any sign of weakness. She unpacked the groceries Mrs Beamish’s schoolboy son brought up to the cottage after lunch and Mr Trentham, coming into the kitchen for a slice of cake to fill the gap between lunch and tea, demanded to know if she had all she wanted.

  ‘No,’ said Sadie, ‘if you don’t mind, I’ll take the bus into Bridport tomorrow and get the things I
can’t get here. Crackers, almonds, raisins and sweets, and give an order to the butcher—they like to know in plenty of time if you want a turkey, you know.’

  ‘No, I didn’t know. It seems my education has been sadly neglected in the domestic field.’ He took a second slice of cake. ‘I’ll drive you in.’

  ‘I might be ages.’

  ‘I’ve some shopping to do too. But why don’t we go to Dorchester? Aren’t there more shops there?’

  ‘I don’t suppose there are many more, but there is a Marks and Spencer.’

  ‘Good, we’ll go directly after breakfast.’

  It was a raw morning when they set out, with a freezing mist shrouding the high ground at Askerswell so that Mr Trentham had to slow down to a mere forty miles an hour. Sadie could feel his impatience mounting and said soothingly: ‘It clears up once we get off the dual carriageway.’

  She sat back, conning her shopping list, feeling elegant in her new coat and beret. If there was time she would buy some gloves and perhaps a pair of shoes. And presents for the little girls and of course, Miss Murch. She hoped she was young and that they would get on together; it would be nice to have someone of her own age at the cottage.

  They had coffee before he left her to do the shopping, saying that he had some to do for himself, and he would meet her at one o’clock exactly at the King’s Arms in High East Street. There was a splendidly old-fashioned grocers close to the hotel where Sadie knew that she would be able to get all the things she needed, she could go there last of all and have time to look for presents at her leisure. Handkerchiefs for Miss Murch, she decided; expensive hand-embroidered ones, and more difficult to find, two small dolls to be dressed in clothes she would make herself.

  And something for Mr Trentham. What, she wondered, would be a suitable gift from a housekeeper to her employer? She found a book and old print shop and after a good deal of browsing found a small eighteenth-century map of Dorset, nicely framed. It was rather more than she had intended to pay, but the shoes could wait until her next pay day.