The Most Marvelous Summer Read online

  `Don't worry,' said the nurse, `there's somewhere where you can wait and I'll get someone to bring you a cup of tea. Mr Scott-Thurlow is going to operate at once so you'll know what's happening quite soon. Do you want to phone anybody?'

  `Yes, please, only I haven't any money.'

  She was led away to a rather bare room lined with benches with a kind of canteen at one end and two telephones on the wall. The nurse gave her twenty pence, patted her on the shoulder in a motherly fashion and hurried away.

  She phoned Mrs Venables.

  `How could she?' cried that lady in an outraged voice. `When we have the dinner party this evening and absolutely no chance of getting a cook at such short notice. What am I to do? She must have been careless '

  `She's cut off two fingers,' said Matilda. `I'll stay here until I know what is happening to her. She's been very brave.'

  She didn't wait for Mrs Venables's reply.

  She sat for an hour, revived by a cup of hot strong tea, thinking about Cook and Mr Scott-Thurlow. She shouldn't have blurted out her silly remark in Casualty-she went hot again just thinking about it-and then to have been sick... She wriggled with humiliation. He had been kind to Cook; she hoped that he would be able to sew the fingers back on-surgeons were clever and she supposed that he was very experienced.

  The kind little nurse who had lent her the twenty pence came into the waiting-room and she got up to meet her.

  `She's going to be all right,' said the nurse. `Mr Scott-Thurlow did a good job, and her fingers will be as good as new-well, almost. He's a wizard with bones. Sister said will you arrange for Mrs Chubb's clothes-nighties and washing things and so on-to be brought in? She's to stay a few days.'

  Matilda nodded. `Yes, of course. Which ward is she in`?"

  'Women's Orthopaedic, second floor. You'll be able to see her.'

  `I'll go and get everything now and come back as soon as I can. Thank you, you've all been awfully kind.'

  She was back within the hour, Cook's necessities in a case, with a couple of paperbacks she had stopped to buy and a bunch of flowers, Mrs Venables's unfeeling, complaining voice still ringing in her ears.

  `The woman will be of no use to me,' she had said impatiently. `Now I shall have to get in another cook.'

  Matilda had turned a thoughtful green gaze on to her hostess. `Has she worked for you for long?' she asked.

  `Oh, years,' said Mrs Venables. `I must say it is most inconvenient-'

  `I dare say Cook finds it inconvenient too, and very painful.'

  She had received a very cold look for that; a good thing they were going home in a few more days.

  Cook was in a small ward, sitting up in bed, looking pale. Matilda put everything away in her locker, fetched a vase for the flowers and offered the paperbacks-light romantic reading which she hoped would take Cook's mind off her problems. She parried the awkward questions she was asked, skimming smoothly over the future, and invented one or two suitable messages from Mrs Venables. `I'll pop in some time tomorrow,' she finished, `just to see if there's anything you would like.'

  `That's kind of you, miss. We all said in the kitchen what a kind young lady you were, and so very understanding.'

  Matilda said goodbye and found her way out of the hospital, trying not to wish that she might meet Mr Scott-Thurlow. But of course she didn't.

  She got back to the house to find Mrs Venables raging up and down the drawing-room floor while Roseanne sat in a corner looking obstinate. She had intended to spend the morning with Bernard and she had had to put him off. Her mouth was set in a thin line and she looked very like her mother.

  Mrs Venables, pacing back to the door, saw Matilda. `I've telephoned every agency I can think of,' she declared. `There is not a decent cook to be had at a moment's notice. I am distraught.' She wrung her hands in a dramatic fashion and glared at Matilda.

  `You will be relieved to know that Mrs Chubb's operation was successful and that she is comfortably in bed.' Matilda glared back. `I can cook-I'll see to dinner this evening.'

  Mrs Venables's glare turned to a melting sweetness. 'Matilda! Oh, can you really cook? I mean cordon bleu? My dear girl, however can I thank you-what a relief, you have no idea how worried I've been.' She reeled off the menu: consomme royale, poached salmon, roast duck with orange garnish and brandy, straw potatoes and a selection of vegetables, some sort of a salad-she had left that to Cook-and then peach conde and coffee mousse. `Can you manage that?' She patted Matilda's arm. `So good of you to do this for me.'

  'I'm doing it for Cook,' said Matilda.

  She didn't wait for Mrs Venables's outraged gasp but took herself off to the kitchen, where she explained matters to the domestic staff and sat down at the kitchen table to get organised. She had plenty of willing help, and, satisfied with the arrangements, she went away to tidy herself for lunch, an uncomfortable meal with Mrs Venables suppressing her ill temper in case Matilda should back out at the last minute, and Roseanne still sulking.

  Matilda spent most of the afternoon preparing for the evening. She enjoyed cooking and she was an instinctive cook, quite ordinary food turning into delectable dishes under her capable hands. She had her tea in the kitchen, which rather upset the butler and the kitchen maid and certainly upset Bertha, who had disapproved of the whole thing to start with. `Ladies,' she had sniffed, `don't belong in the kitchen,' a remark to which Matilda didn't bother to reply.

  Everything went well; as the first guests arrived and the butler went to admit them, Matilda gave the ducks a satisfied prod, tasted the consomme and began to make a salad. There was half an hour before dinner would be served and she enjoyed making a salad.

  The Honourable Mrs Venables greeted her guests with an almost feverish eagerness. She had planned the evening carefully and ii anything went wrong she would never recover from it. She cast an anxious eye over the laughing and talking people around her. Bernard had come and she sighed with relief, for Roseanne had stopped sulking at the sight of him and even looked a bit pretty. There were two more to come, Rhoda Symes and Mr Scott-Thurlow, and they entered the room at that moment. A handsome couple, she conceded; Rhoda looked magnificent, but then she always slid. Mr Scott-Thurlow looked much as he usually did, rather grave; always courteous and lovely manners, though. She went forward to welcome them.

  Mr Scott-Thurlow had seen Roseanne as soon he entered the room but there was no sign of the bright head of hair he had expected to see. He listened politely to one of the guests trying to prise free advice from him while he glanced round the room. Matilda wasn't there. He caught Rhoda's eye and she smiled at him. She was looking particularly beautiful, exquisitely made up, her hair a blonde halo, her cerise dress the very latest fashion. She would make him a very suitable wife; she was a clever woman as well as attractive, completely at ease against a social background, cool and undemonstrative. The uneasy thought that her charming appearance hid a cold nature crossed his mind and he found himself wondering why he had asked her to marry him. He knew the answer to that: she made no demands upon him and appeared quite content with the lack of romance between them. He had been an only child and had lost his parents in a plane crash when he had been a small boy. He had gone to live with his grandparents, who had loved him dearly but had not known what to say to him, so he had learned to hide his loneliness and unhappiness and had grown up into a rather quiet man who seldom allowed his feelings to show, channelling his energy and interest into his work. It was his old nanny, Mrs Twigg, who kept house for him, who had begged him to find himself a wife and he had acknowledged the good sense of that; his friends were all married by now and despite his absorption in his work he was sometimes lonely.

  He and the man to whom he was talking were joined by several more people and the conversation became general until they were summoned to dinner, where he sat between two young married women who flirted gently with him.

  It was someone at the other end of the table who remarked loudly upon the delicious duck. `You must have a sple
ndid cook,' he remarked, laughing.

  `I've had her for years,' declared Mrs Venables. `She's a treasure,' and Mr Scott-Thurlow, happening to glance at Roseanne across the table, saw the look of surprised rage on her face and wondered why.

  It was some time afterwards when they were gill back in the drawing-room that he made his way to her side. `Nice to see you, Roseanne, and you look charming. Is Miss ffinch ill?'

  Roseanne said softly, `No, of course not-she never is. She's in the kitchen. She cooked the dinner.' She smiled suddenly. `We'll go and see her if you like.' Before he could answer she said loudly, `It's rather warm-shall we go on to the balcony for a minute?'

  There was a small staircase at one end of the balcony and she led the way down it and round the house and in through a side-door.

  The short passage was rather dark and smelled vaguely damp. Roseanne opened the door at its end, revealing the kitchen.

  Matilda was standing at the kitchen table, carving slices off a roast duck. She wasn't doing it very well and there was a large pan of rather mangled bones and bits beside her. She looked up and saw them as they went in. She was flushed and untidy and swathed in one of Mrs Chubb's aprons, many sizes too large for her, and despite that she still contrived to look beautiful. When she saw them she smiled and said, `Oh, hello...'

  `What the devil do you think you're doing?' asked Mr Scott-Thurlow with a good deal of force.

  She chose to misunderstand him. `Well, I never could carve-the bones will make splendid soup and there's still plenty of meat...'

  His tone was measured. `That is not what I meant, and you know it. Why are you working in the kitchen when you should be in the drawing-room? That abominable woman...' He stopped, mindful of good manners. `Do you mean to say that she asked you to cook dinner?"

  'No. I said that I would-to help Mrs Chubb; you know she was in such a state. They tell me that you did a splendid job on her fingers. Are you a consultant or something?'

  `Yes. Let us keep to the point, Matilda.'

  She looked meek, but her eyes sparkled because he had called her Matilda and not Miss Ffinch. A tiny step forwards perhaps?

  She picked up the knife again and started on the other side of the duck and he stepped forwards, took the knife from her, carved the rest of the bird with a practised hand and laid the knife down on the table.

  `Is there no one to help you?"

  'They're having their supper. I'll stay down here until you've all gone home.' She selected a slice of duck and popped it into her mouth.

  It was Roseanne who spoke. `Look,' she sounded worried, `we must go back-they'll wonder where we are.'

  `Very well. Have you had your dinner, Matilda?'

  He looked as cross as two sticks, she thought lovingly. `I shall take a tray up to my room. Goodnight, Mr Scott-Thurlow, or is it goodbye?'

  CHAPTER THREE

  MATILDA, packing the remainder of her things ready to leave in the morning, reflected sadly that it really had been goodbye and not goodnight. From upstairs at the landing window she had watched the dinner guests go home and it seemed to her that Mr Scott-Thurlow was quite devoted in his attention towards his fiancee as they left the house. Rhoda had really looked quite stunning.

  She was glad to be going home; Mrs Venables had thanked her for her services rather coldly, remarking at the same time that she had no idea how she was going to manage with the temporary cook whom she had engaged. Matilda, who had been to see Mrs Chubb again, had observed rather tartly that she would appreciate Mrs Chubb's services all the more when she returned,

  `Because, of course, she will be coming back here, will she not? After all these years?'

  A remark which received no answer save a non-committal murmur which could have meant anything or nothing.

  Gregg fetched them soon after breakfast and the two girls bade their hostess goodbye. She embraced Roseanne warmly and begged her to visit her again very soon, but when she shook Matilda's hand she observed rather distantly that she supposed that the daughter of a rector had much to occupy her and that they were unlikely to meet again.

  Matilda, who had no wish to improve her acquaintance with the Honourable Mrs Venables, assured her that the likelihood of her visiting London in the foreseeable future was indeed remote.

  Gregg obligingly stopped at the rectory and deposited Matilda and her case in the porch while Roseanne hung out of the car, calling to her to come up to the manor as soon as she could. `Mother will want to know about Bernard...'

  Matilda nodded and smiled, thanked Gregg and opened the door of her home to hear her mother's voice from somewhere upstairs and a moment later her father's deeper tones from his study before both parents converged in the halI to hug her warmly.

  `We've missed you,' said her mother. `It's lovely to have you back...'

  `You're glad to be home?' enquired her father. `Oh, Father, yes.' Her eyes shone with tears.

  `I missed you all too.'

  They went into the kitchen and presently sat down round the kitchen table to drink coffee.

  `You enjoyed yourself, dear?' asked her mother. `When you wrote and telephoned there was always a party or a dinner or something.' Shc added casually, `Did you meet anyone you liked?'

  Matilda cut herself a slice of the cake her mother had taken out of the oven and bit into it . She wiped the crumbs away from her mouth before she answered. `Yes, but he's going to be married to a very beautiful woman.' She went on steadily, `I met quite a few people I liked too but not many young ones. They went to the dance and Roseanne mostly went with her godmother.

  Her mother nodded and smiled a little; she could imagine the Honourable Mrs Venables's disquiet when she had first set eyes on Matilda-Roseanne wouldn't stand much chance.. . And this man? She wondered who he was and where Matilda had met him and whether he had been aware that her darling daughter had lost her heart to him. She longed to know; instead she asked, `And Roseanne, did she have a good time too?"

  'Oh, yes-we met a young man, Bernard Stevens-at one of the picture galleries, and he fell for her. Luckily he knows friends of Mrs Venables so I can't see that Lady Fox could possibly object-Roseanne wants to marry him and she can be as stubborn as a mule. He'll be down for a weekend soon, I expect, and you'll meet him or at least see him in church.'

  `What a relief for Lady Fox,' observed Mrs ffinch. `There are three daughters and those unfortunate noses... Did you enjoy the big dinner party before you left? Did the grey crepe do?'

  Matilda took another slice of cake. `Well, I didn't go..., She paused, smilling a little, remembering Mr Scott-Thurlow's visit to the kitchen. `The cook cut herself,' she began and recounted the happenings of that eventful day, leaving out Mr Scott-Thurlow of course.

  Her mother was indignant. `Well, really-it was one thing letting you do the cooking but she could at least have told her guests and thanked you.'

  Mrs ffinch looked quite fierce and the rector said, `Now, now, my dear, Matilda had the thanks that mattered-the poor woman with the cut hand will remember her with gratitude, while Mrs Venables is to be pitied for her lack of charity.'

  His wife cast him a resigned look; sometimes she wished that he would get really annoyed about something or someone, but he never did. She smiled suddenly at him. `You're quite right, of course-you always are.'

  Matilda went to the manor the following morning to resume her usual duties there. Roseanne met her at the door and said eagerly, `You will tell Mother what a splendid man Bernard is, won't you? She's sure to ask you. Ii' you could persuade her to invite him for a weekend...'

  `I'll do my best,' said Matilda doubtfully. Lady Fox wasn't the kind of person one could persuade easily.

  As it happened her task was made easy; Lady Fox had already had a good report of Bernard from Mrs Venables. All the same she cross-questioned Matilda about him at length. `I should I ike to meet this young man,' she concluded.

  Matilda was catching up on the household accounts. `I expect you have already thought of a way to do t
hat,' she suggested. `A weekend here would give you the opportunity to get to know him.'

  `That is true, and I had of course already decided to do so. I cannot have one of my girls throwing herself away on some unsuitable young man.'

  Matilda murmured. She was of the private opinion that Roseanne intended to marry the young man whether her mother approved or not.

  Lady Fox got up from her desk. `Yes, I shall certainly do so,' she said in a voice which suggested that Matilda had begged her not to.

  `How very wise of you, Lady Fox,' said Matilda, looking as meek as red hair and green eyes allowed her.

  Life settled back into the quiet routine which had been interrupted by their visit to London. Matilda, soothed by the comparative leisurely progress of her days, was able to think about James Scott-Thurlow in a sensible way. She was in love with him and always would be, there was no gainsaying that, but she had known her case was hopeless when she had set eyes on Rhoda. It was now just a question of forgetting him, she told herself firmly. Unfortunately she soon discovered that this was impossible.