All Else Confusion Page 5

  ‘Colonel Avery—yes, let him know, will you. Are you a member of the family?’

  ‘No, my parents are friends of the Averys’. I’m here as companion to Mrs Duvant for a few weeks while she settles in here.’ Her hands were shaking and she put them behind herself longing for Jake to come.

  Between them, she and Mrs Bates got Mrs Duvant into bed, and although she roused a little as they did so, she dozed off once more and didn’t wake when the doctor came to take another look at her.

  ‘She should sleep for a while,’ he told Annis. ‘I have another urgent visit to pay, but I’ll be back. Can you manage or shall I try and get a nurse?’

  ‘I can manage, and Bates and Mrs Bates are very good. Is there anything I should do? Will she be in pain?’

  ‘She won’t rouse for another two hours at least, possibly longer, and I’ll be back by then; if you’re worried about her let me know at once and I’ll come.’

  The house was very quiet after he had gone. Bates crept in with a tray on which there was a bowl of soup and had put it down on the table by Annis’s chair. ‘Just take this, miss,’ he urged. ‘The night’s going to be a long one.’

  She thanked him, urged him to see that both he and Mrs Bates had something to eat too, and warned him that Jake would be coming—a piece of information which Bates received with relieved satisfaction.

  ‘Me and Mrs Bates, we knew that the mistress had had bad turns from time to time; Mr Jake warned us of that, but we never expected anything like this, miss.’

  He looked so shocked and upset that Annis got up and went to put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Perhaps it won’t be as bad as it looks,’ she said, knowing how empty her words were and that neither of them believed them, anyway.

  Bates came back presently to fetch the tray and ask anxiously if there was any change and when might Colonel Avery be expected. ‘Because he’ll need to stay the night, miss,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Yes, of course—I’m sorry, Bates, I forgot to tell you that Colonel and Mrs Avery were out, so was Matthew. I left a message and asked that they should get it at the first possible moment, but they’d gone to some friends for dinner, and unfortunately no one knew who they were. I expect it will take a little time to find them.’ Annis glanced at the clock. ‘It’s only ten o’clock, though, they’re bound to telephone as soon as they hear.’

  ‘Yes, of course, miss. What a blessing that you’re here, miss. Mrs Bates asks if she should sit here for a bit.’

  ‘How kind of her! But I’m all right and the doctor’s coming back round about midnight. I thought I’d stay here until he comes, perhaps he’ll know more by then.’

  There was no sound in the room when Bates had gone save the faint ticking of the clock and the even fainter sound of Mrs Duvant’s breathing. Annis pulled her chair a little nearer the bed just in case its occupant should wake, and composed herself to wait.

  Half an hour later the door was softly opened and Jake came in. Annis turned her head and looked at him, not speaking. He looked as calm and unruffled as he always did, immaculate in a dinner jacket, bringing with him the strong feeling that he would be able to cope with anything no matter how awkward the situation.

  He said, ‘Hullo, Annis,’ in a quiet voice and went past her to the bed. ‘The doctor’s been?’

  ‘Yes, at about half past eight. He’s coming again before midnight. I’m to ring him if it’s necessary.’

  His eyes examined her pale face. ‘I see.’ He didn’t say anything else until Bates, who had followed him in, had put down a tray of coffee on one of the tables and gone again, then he poured for them both, added brandy to both cups and brought one over to her. ‘Drink that, and tell me what’s happened.’

  The brandy warmed her cold insides and the coffee cleared her head. She gave a succinct account of the evening without adding any comments of her own, and any doubts she had had about doing the right thing were dispelled by his quiet, ‘You’ve been splendid.’

  He refilled her cup and drew up another chair on the other side of the bed, and presently when Mrs Duvant opened her eyes and said in a quite strong voice: ‘How long have you been here, Jake?’ he answered her in a perfectly normal voice. ‘Twenty minutes ago, my dear.’

  ‘Had to leave a date, did you?’ she chuckled, and it was like dry leaves rustling.

  ‘I did; a delectable blonde who turned into a flaming virago when I stood her up.’ He picked up a hand lying on the silk coverlet and kissed it. ‘You’re worth a roomful of blondes, but I’ve told you that before.’

  Mrs Duvant smiled at him. ‘We’ve had some good times together. I didn’t have any children, but now it’s like having a son and a daughter with me.’ She turned her head and looked at Annis. ‘You make a darling daughter, my dear—one day you’ll make some lucky man a darling wife.’

  ‘Why, thank you.’ Annis managed a perfectly natural smile, taking her cue from Jake, although there was a lump in her throat fit to choke her. ‘I think you’d make a lovely mum—’ She paused as the door bell sounded faintly and Bates’s elderly voice spoke to someone downstairs—the doctor.

  The two men shook hands and the doctor said: ‘You made good time, Jake, not much on the roads.’

  ‘Hardly a thing. Do you want us out of the way while you talk to Aunt Dora?’

  ‘No, that won’t be necessary.’ He bent over the bed, taking Mrs Duvant’s pulse and then her blood pressure. ‘I’m going to give you another injection,’ he told her. ‘The pain’s starting up again, isn’t it?’

  She nodded. ‘I should have loved to have talked to Jake, we’ve only had a few minutes.’

  ‘I’ll be here when you wake up, darling,’ said Jake from the window, and turned to give her a grin. ‘I’ll stay here and nod off in a chair and we’ll have a cup of tea together.’

  ‘And Annis?’

  ‘She’ll be here too. I’ll take a few days off next week and we’ll play poker.’

  Mrs Duvant smiled slowly and allowed Annis to lift her arm for the doctor to give the injection. ‘I’ll look forward to it,’ she answered him in a voice hardly to be heard now.

  She drifted off without speaking again, and presently the doctor went and Jake went with him. He was back again in a very few minutes, though, to sit down again opposite Annis. ‘Bates is bringing up a pot of tea,’ he told her, and at her look: ‘That’s what Aunt Dora would like.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she felt her cheeks grow warm, ‘that was silly of me.’ And when the tea came she meekly accepted a cup. It had the effect of dissolving the lump in her throat so that, quite against her will, tears began to pour down her cheeks.

  Jake crossed the room and took the cup from her and pulled her gently out of her chair. ‘Now look, darling, you must stop crying. Aunt Dora wouldn’t like it, for one thing, nor do I for another.’ He put an arm round her shoulders and held her close; she could feel his immense vitality wrapped round her like a cloak and felt instantly better.

  ‘So sorry,’ she managed.

  ‘No, don’t be sorry for a warm heart, Annis—there are enough cold ones around.’ He fished a handkerchief out of a pocket and started to mop her face. ‘That’s better. Do you think you can go on for a bit? It won’t be for much longer.’

  She stared up at him. ‘Isn’t Mrs Duvant… You said we’d all have a cup of tea…’

  ‘So I did. You’re not very grown up, are you, darling?’ He kissed the top of her head, a small gesture which did much to comfort her, and went on: ‘I think—I know that Aunt Dora would like it if we were to stay here with her, but if you feel you can’t she’d understand.’

  ‘I’ll stay.’ Annis leaned away from him and he dropped his arms at once.

  ‘That’s my girl! Sit down again and finish that tea and I’ll tell you about Aunt Dora. She’s had a most interesting life, you know.’

  He rambled on quietly, sitting by the bed, a small limp hand in his, talking about Mrs Duvant’s travels, which had been numerous, and all the things she had done without the approval of her relations. ‘She had a splendid life, and she and her husband adored each other; when he died she disappeared for several months—trekked through darkest Africa, or was it America?’

  His gentle musings, needing no reply, gave Annis time to pull herself together, and when after a little while he said: ‘Well, it’s over, my dear,’ she said quite calmly: ‘What do we do now? How can I help?’

  And then she went to the bed and knelt down like a child for a few moments, then got to her feet and stood looking down on the quiet face. ‘She lived until the last minute, didn’t she? I mean, so many elderly people start dying slowly years before they need to.’

  Jake had his back to her, looking out into the night. ‘You’ve hit the nail on the head, bless her. I’ll phone the doctor, and will you see if the Bates’s are still up?’

  The remainder of the night passed in a blur of happenings: the Colonel arriving, the doctor, Mrs Bates whisking her off to bed… Annis woke late, astonished that she had slept.

  Everyone was at breakfast when she got down— Jake and the Colonel, Mrs Avery and Matt. They bade her a cheerful good morning and the Colonel asked at once if she would like to go back with them later in the morning.

  Annis, without realising it, looked at Jake.

  ‘I’d like you to stay, Annis, I’ll need some help, and there are some things the Bates’s can’t do.’

  Mrs Avery said crossly: ‘It’s a great pity that we can’t stay, but we can’t put off the Lord Lieutenant…’ She shot a glance at Matt, stolidly working his way through a good breakfast. ‘Matt, surely you could stay?’

  ‘But why, Mother? Jake can cope with everything, you know that, and Annis can manage perfectly well.’

  His mother said even more cros
sly, seeing her matrimonial plans sliding away before they’d even got going: ‘You and Annis have always done everything together…’

  ‘But, Mother, we’re not children any more.’

  Annis, playing around with a bit of toast, held her tongue, while Jake sat back at his ease, drinking his coffee, smiling just a little.

  But he looked perfectly grave when Mrs Avery turned to him. ‘Matt’s right,’ he told her soothingly, ‘there’s not much he could do, as long as Colonel Avery doesn’t mind me getting on with things…’

  Colonel Avery surfaced from toast and marmalade. ‘Of course not, dear boy. After all, you’re one of the executors, and I must get back…’

  ‘Of course.’ Jake was at his most bland. ‘If anything comes up, I’ll phone you.’

  And so the Averys went away again presently, and Jake took Annis by the arm and marched her into the sitting-room. ‘Sit down quietly,’ he told her, ‘and read the papers. I’ll join you for coffee presently.’

  ‘Yes, but isn’t there something I should do?’

  ‘Not for a little while,’ he told her gently.

  So she pretended to read the news while she listened to quiet feet going up and downstairs and the murmur of voices, and then Jake’s firm footfall crossing the hall and going into the drawing-room.

  Half an hour later he joined her. ‘It’s just occurred to me—shouldn’t you ring your family? Will your mother object to you staying here?’

  ‘Of course not. Not if I can be of some use…but I’ll ring her, if you don’t mind.’

  He nodded. ‘The funeral is in four days’ time. I’ll stay until then, and I hope you will too. This afternoon, if you feel you can, I want you to sort through Aunt Dora’s jewellery. I know about her will, of course, she’s left a good deal of it to members of the family, and it would help a lot if you could check it.’

  ‘Are there a lot of nephews and nieces?’

  ‘Dozens. Matt will get quite a nice little legacy, she was fond of him.’

  He looked at her as he spoke, but her face showed no interest at this news.

  ‘It will come in handy when he marries,’ persisted Jake.

  ‘Yes, I expect it will; is there anything I can do?’

  ‘Yes, come for a brisk walk with me.’

  Which they did, through Royal Victoria Park, the Botanical Gardens and across High Common. It was a fine morning, still cold but right for walking, and they arrived back more than ready for their lunch.

  The afternoon passed quickly. There was an astonishing amount of jewellery to sort through and they did it together in front of the sitting room fire, while Jake talked about Aunt Dora, so naturally that it seemed as though she wasn’t dead at all, and when Annis remarked on this he said briskly: ‘Well, in a way, she isn’t, and I for one don’t believe in hushed voices and drawn blinds and nor did she.’

  They ate their dinner on the best of terms and afterwards Jake went away to do some more telephoning. When he joined her by the fire in the sitting-room presently, he observed: ‘How pleasant, just like an old married couple.’

  He didn’t seem to expect a reply, which was just as well, as she couldn’t think of one, but sat down opposite her and picked up a newspaper.

  Five minutes passed. ‘How dull,’ observed Annis thoughtfully.

  Jake lowered his newspaper. ‘What’s how dull?’

  ‘Being an old married couple.’ She glanced up at him and then went back to her knitting.

  ‘Now let us go into this in some depth.’ He put the paper down and stretched out in his chair. ‘I should imagine that after the hurly-burly of years of married life, it must be very pleasant to share your fireside and your declining years with someone you’ve loved and still love.’

  ‘That sounds too good to be true.’

  ‘No, it’s not. I for one intend to make it true.’

  Annis dropped a stitch. ‘Oh? Are you thinking of getting married?’

  ‘I’ve got past the thinking stage. I now know I am.’

  ‘How—how nice.’ It was ridiculous to feel so forlorn about it. Annis knitted fiercely, making a botch of the pattern, reminding herself that she didn’t like him, after all—arrogant, too self-assured, more money than was good for him, far too good-looking, and all these quite drowned out by a persistent little voice at the back of her head reminding her that he could, when he wished, be kind and thoughtful and amusing and always knew what had to be done without being bossy about it.

  ‘And you?’ went on Jake. ‘Do you and Matt intend to marry?’

  She dropped several stitches. ‘Me and Matt? Get married? Whatever do you mean? We grew up together.’

  ‘Some people would say that was an excellent basis for a successful marriage.’

  ‘Pooh, what utter nonsense! I can’t imagine anything more dull—besides, Matt’s only a boy.’

  Jake settled further into his chair. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ and when he had got his pipe going: ‘So he’s not your ideal husband?’

  ‘You must be joking!’ Annis let her work fall into her lap and went on dreamily: ‘Someone who doesn’t expect me to go out in all weathers and notices if I’ve got something new on.’ She paused. ‘Though I can’t blame Matt for that, because I don’t have many new clothes for him to notice.’ She stared at the wall opposite her, quite forgetful of her companion. ‘Always polite and never shouting me down, considerate of my every wish, noticing if I’ve got a headache, remembering anniversaries with red roses…’ She stopped because Jake was laughing at her. She said huffily: ‘You would laugh!’

  ‘Darling, you’re such a child and yet you’re a practical young woman too—a delightful mixture.’

  Annis frowned. ‘Don’t call me darling, that’s the third time. It doesn’t mean anything, not—when you say it like that.’

  He said very softly: ‘No? Well, you can make what you like of that, Annis.’

  A remark which kept her silent for quite some time, trying to decide just what he meant; or perhaps he hadn’t meant anything at all. That was why she didn’t like him, she told herself, because she was never quite sure if he meant what he said.

  But during the next few days she found herself forgetting more and more often that she didn’t like him. He was a good companion, and what was more, he kept her busy helping him with the hundred and one small tasks which had to be done, and each afternoon, whatever the weather, he marched her off for a long walk so that she began to look like her old self again. He expected her to help with the arrangements for the funeral too, treating the whole thing with a matter-of-fact air which robbed it of too much solemnity, and made it easy for her to greet the host of relations and friends who arrived. Her mother and father came at the same time as Colonel and Mrs Avery and Matt, and Mrs Avery, hoping to take advantage of the circumstances, did her best to throw Matt and Annis together on every possible occasion. She had no success at all. Annis had too much to do and Matt, after a perfunctory ‘Hullo, old girl,’ had made a beeline for a cluster of pretty cousins he hadn’t seen for some time.

  It was when almost everyone had gone again and only a handful of family were left that Mrs Avery broached the subject of Annis going back with Matt. ‘We came in his car,’ she pointed out, ‘and he’ll be glad of your company—I expect you want to get home as soon as possible, Annis.’

  Annis, poised at the door with a tray load of cups and saucers for the Bates to wash up, stood very still, it had struck her forcibly and in utter surprise that she had no wish to go home. She loved her parents dearly and she had no objection to Matt but she wanted to stay where she was until the last possible moment. And the reason for that was standing across the room from her, talking to her father: Jake, looking even more self-assured than usual, very much in command of the occasion and to all intents and purposes unaware of her existence.

  She took a firmer grip of the tray; now was not the time to discover that she was in love with him. How much more convenient if she could have made the discovery in the peace and quiet of her own room without Mrs Avery’s keen eye boring holes in her back. And her mother, bless her, had turned round to hear her answer, too.

  The first one to speak was Jake. ‘Oh, I’m sure you won’t mind if Annis stays for another day or two. Mrs Fothergill, will you be an angel and allow me to bring her back, say, the day after tomorrow? There’s still quite a lot of tidying away and clearing up to do and she’s been so useful.’