An Apple From Eve Read online

  Euphemia hadn’t expected that. ‘You’re very kind,’ she said, ‘that would be nice,’ and settled herself into the seat beside his, hoping rather naughtily that the car would play up as it so often did with her. But it didn’t. They wound their way through the morning traffic and reached Myrtle House without single mishap, and she spent half an hour giving Mrs Cross instructions as to what to do when the boys and Ellen arrived. They had coffee in the sitting room and the doctor was a nice blend of host and guest. Euphemia wasn’t quite sure what she was.

  They reached Middle Wallop in time for a late lunch, and Aunt Thea, warned in advance by telephone, had done them proud. She was an excellent cook and after the first little flurry of introductions and small talk over a glass of very sweet sherry which Euphemia guessed the doctor didn’t much care for, she sent them into the small dining room. There was watercress soup, followed by pasties and a salad, very different from the salads served at the hospital—a lettuce leaf and a sliver of tomato and if you were lucky, slice of cucumber. Aunt Thea’s salads were a dream: mint and chives and lettuce from the garden, tomatoes from the greenhouse, tiny spring onions, cucumber cubes and baby beetroots, all bathed in a dressing of her own invention. Euphemia was surprised to see the doctor tucking in with genuine pleasure and when Aunt Thea darted into her kitchen and came back with a bowl of raspberries and dish of thick cream he observed: ‘I can’t remember when I have enjoyed a meal as much, Mrs Cooper,’ at which Aunt Thea smiled widely.

  ‘Well, it’s a pleasure to cook for guests; since my husband died, there’s not much incentive to plan a meal.’

  The doctor questioned her gently and she responded, glad to talk about the late Colonel Cooper. Euphemia, watching her aunt’s rather shy manner warm under his interest, decided that he was adept worming his way into someone else’s graces. But he’d better not try that with me, she thought, the wily old devil—and then amended the thought honestly. Not a devil and not wily and certainly not old; arrogant and a great one for wanting his own way and getting it too, and his cool way of snubbing her left much to be desired. She wondered uneasily if there was another side to him which she hadn’t been allowed to see. Probably his Diana saw him in a quite different light. She munched raspberries and speculated on this, and then looking up caught his eye and pinkened a little because she had the nasty feeling that he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  Ellen offered to take him to the church after lunch which surprised Euphemia very much, as Ellen was shy of strangers, but the doctor had a way with him there was no denying that. She watched her sister going down the garden path chattering away as though she had known the doctor all her life, and then went into the kitchen to help with the washing up, feeling hard done by.

  The two of them came back more than an hour later, but this time they were accompanied by the curate, on excellent terms with the doctor and only too ready to stay for what Aunt Thea called a cup of tea but which turned out to be accompanied by paper-thin cucumber sandwiches, fairy cakes and a nice old-fashioned fruit cake, demolished to the last crumb by her guests.

  The two men left together, the curate to accompany the doctor to the station half a mile away. Dr van Diederijk took a warm farewell of his hostess and Ellen, a somewhat cooler one of Euphemia, with the reminder that she was to be at Heathrow Airport on the morning of the day after tomorrow at ten o’clock precisely, bearing her passport and such money as she thought necessary. The tickets had already been arranged for, and he reminded her also to have as little luggage as possible. He had said all this on their way down, but she nodded politely and wished him goodbye and didn’t linger in the doorway to see him go.

  The curate drove her up to Heathrow in her own car with Ellen for company and the promise to come and collect her on her return. It was a lovely morning and still early. Euphemia sat back, watching the country in the height of its summer glory, and wondering if she had been a little mad. She had never fancied Spain and she certainly didn’t fancy Diana Sibley; on the other hand Myrtle House would be home for all of them for one glorious month. Not for her, of course, but there would be almost a week left when she got back from Jerez-something to look forward to.

  They arrived in good time at Heathrow and she had expected to wait. Dr van Diederijk, elegant in summer suiting, dispelled the faint panic she had felt as she got out of the car. She wasn’t sure where he had come from, but there he was, looking calm, very much at ease and dealing with her case and ticket with the air of a man who had done it all before. Probably he had, dozens of times, she told herself as she followed him into the reception hall after goodbyes had been said.

  ‘Diana is upstairs in the lounge,’ he told her. ‘She feels a little under the weather.’

  Which was probably why she was wearing a gossamer scarf over her head and draped across the lower half of her face. Euphemia, bareheaded and cool in a short-sleeved shirtwaister, by no means new but elegant and entirely suitable for the journey, surveyed the other girl’s flowing draperies and wondered why on earth she should choose to wear something so awkward for a plane journey.

  ‘So there you are,’ observed Diana waspishly. ‘If we have to sit here much longer I shall be ill. Do something about it, Tane!’

  ‘Not possible, Diana, I’m afraid,’ said the doctor soothingly, ‘but your flight should be called at any moment now and you should be comfortable enough once you’re on board. In a few hours you will be at your aunt’s house and able to relax.’

  Diana could have been smiling, it was impossible to tell with all that veiling, but her eyes, heavily made up, opened wide and she flicked the lashes at him. ‘Dear Tane,’ she said in her well modulated voice, ‘so thoughtful—I shall miss you.’

  ‘And I you, but this holiday will restore you to your old self again.’ A voice bade them go to the gate and join their flight and Euphemia got to her feet composedly, picked up her shoulder bag, accepted Diana’s enormous crocodile one, and followed the two of them down the stairs to the barrier where the doctor bade them a courteous goodbye without so much as taking his fiancée’s hand in his. And that wouldn’t do for me, decided Euphemia silently, as she shepherded her charge through Customs.

  Once on board, ensconced in comfort in the first class section, Diana signified her intention of having a nap. ‘And I don’t want to be disturbed,’ she added sharply. She pulled off her veil then, revealing an unhealthily pale face, far too thin, lines of discontent deeply scored between mouth and nose. ‘Look at me,’ she declared bitterly, ‘I’ve always been beautiful, everyone says so, and now I’m as plain as any other girl.’

  Euphemia allowed her calm professional mask to hide her feelings. ‘That’s because you need to get out into the sun and air—I daresay you’ve been indoors all day…’

  ‘Well, of course I have—I’m far too delicate to go racketing around when I’ve been so ill. I’m not a great tough creature like you, I’m sensitive, I always have been, but I manage to hide it—even Tane was surprised to see how badly the mumps affected me. It was he who insisted on this holiday.’ She gave a self-satisfied little laugh. ‘He’s so careful of me; I’m to lie in the garden and swim each day and eat anything I fancy. He insisted on you coming with me, too.’ She added patronisingly: ‘He seems to think you’re a good nurse, and of course, only the very best is good enough for me.’

  Euphemia had nothing to say to this—indeed, she didn’t think that Diana expected a reply, anyway. She made her comfortable and then sat back in her seat, accepted a cold drink from the stewardess and looked out of the window. They were over water and there was land ahead. England had been left behind already.

  She had been looking forward to the flight. Looking down on other countries was a new experience for her, but her thoughts became more and more engrossing, so that presently she had no idea where they were and didn’t much care. Diana Sibley was a horrid young woman, conceited, spoilt and selfish. Why on earth Dr van Diederijk wanted to marry her was beyond Euphemia’s comprehensio
n; she had never once seen even the faintest spark of feeling between the two of them, although she had to admit that they could possibly be so reserved that they kept their feelings hidden in public. She frowned. The first time she had met Diana she had been nauseatingly coy and possessive towards the doctor, although his manner towards her had been pleasant and nothing else. She would really have to find out… Perhaps he had been tricked into an engagement? Unlikely considering the kind of man he was. Perhaps he had had his heart broken and didn’t care whom he married? Euphemia pursued this idea in some depth until she became quite carried away and actually felt sorry for him. He needed rescuing before he found himself tied up for the rest of his life to Diana. Perhaps he wasn’t such a bad man after all, thought Euphemia on a wave of sympathy, and he had been very kind about Myrtle House…perhaps she could find a way of helping him out of an awkward situation.

  They were met at Seville Airport by a uniformed chauffeur, who ushered them into an immense Cadillac with an air of reverence and saw to all the tiresome details of luggage and tipping. Euphemia, sitting back in her corner, heaved a sigh of relief; Diana had wakened in a frightful temper and it had been no easy matter to get her off the plane and through Customs without setting everyone’s teeth on edge. She sat beside her now, the veil discarded because, as she pointed out crossly, none of her friends were within hundreds of miles to stare at her spoiled looks, grumbling at the heat, the slowness of the porters, the journey ahead of them… How could anyone, let alone Dr van Diederijk, love such an ill-tempered creature? All the same, Euphemia reminded herself, she had promised to look after Diana and get her back to her normal self again, and she had no intention of backing out of that promise.

  The chauffeur got into the car, urged it through the traffic and joined the motorway south, bypassing Utrero and disappointingly cutting out a number of villages and small towns Euphemia would have liked to see. She was a little disappointed in the scenery around her, but she told herself sensibly that away from the main roads it was probably quite different. Now all she could see as they tore along was a seemingly unending plain with few trees and those small and umbrella-shaped, the olive groves giving way to row upon row of vines; bleak even in the bright sun but impressive too.

  But she had second thoughts as they approached Jerez; it was a much larger place than she had thought and it looked interesting, but before she could see much of it the chauffeur turned the car off the main road and drove along a narrow, ill-surfaced road which took them through the outskirts to slightly higher ground. Presently there were high iron railings on one side and then a closed gate which was opened as the chauffeur sounded his horn and started up a broad drive, beautifully kept and bordered on either side by palm trees, jacaranda trees and great splashes of bougainvillea as the drive wound round a corner and the house came into view. Euphemia could see roses, crimson and yellow and pink climbing over its white walls. The house was large and low and beautiful; even without its magnificent grounds it would have been that. Euphemia forgot her first disappointment. This was Spain as she had imagined it, and she sighed with pleasure as they got out of the car. The door was open and an elderly woman dressed in black was standing there to welcome them—not Mrs Kellard of course, the housekeeper probably, smiling and wishing them good day in sparse English. Euphemia returned the greeting, but Diana swept inside with an impatient: ‘Where is my aunt?’

  They were conducted across a vast cool hall and into an equally vast room, its french windows open to the gardens beyond. It was furnished in the Spanish style, dark wood, heavily carved, and there was a profusion of flowers. Diana’s aunt was reclining on a chaise-longue, swathed in gossamer draperies, and made no attempt to get up as they entered. She was an older edition of her niece, a thin, faded lady with an acidulated face and an elaborate hair-style, and her voice, small and rather shrill, was as faded. ‘There you are, Diana—and you’ve brought your nurse with you? A good thing, because I’m quite unable to undertake any arduous tasks at the moment—this heat…’

  Diana crossed the room and kissed her aunt an inch away from her cheek and said shortly: ‘Yes, here’s the nurse. Her name’s Euphemia.’

  ‘Extraordinary!’ Mrs Kellard lifted her head a couple of inches the better to look at Euphemia, who stayed where she was, and stared coolly back. Somehow she had imagined the aunt to be a perfectly normal person, and here she was, a second Diana, only more so. Euphemia sighed to herself and said in voice of great politeness: ‘How do you do, Mrs Kellard.’

  Mrs Kellard looked taken aback, just as though she hadn’t expected to be spoken to by a nurse, then said grudgingly: ‘I hope you will be happy here, Nurse…’

  ‘Blackstock.’

  ‘Blackstock—er—my poor niece has been very ill, so I’m told, and I’m sure she will need your services.’ She added: ‘You are a trained nurse, I hope?’

  ‘I’m a Ward Sister, Mrs Kellard, and I’ve come as Diana’s companion to oblige Dr van Diederijk.’

  Mrs Kellard said faintly: ‘Oh, well, of course…you two girls can make your arrangements, just let Maria know. Diana, ring the bell, please, you’ll want to go to your rooms and rest. Have tea sent up if you want to—I’ll see you both at dinner.’

  Diana had a huge room opening on to a balcony overlooking the gardens at the front of the house. Euphemia saw her safely into it with a promise to return very shortly, and followed her guide down the wide corridor to a similar room on the other side of the house. It was smaller but just as comfortably furnished, with its own small balcony and bathroom. Euphemia took a quick satisfied look and went back to Diana.

  She found her on the bed complaining that she was exhausted, while a maid unpacked her cases. Euphemia said with mild authority: ‘A cool bath will do you good, then a cup of tea and a rest in bed until it’s time to change for the evening.’

  ‘I’m too tired…’

  ‘Dr van Diederijk would like to see you well again as quickly as possible, so shall we start right away? Two weeks isn’t too long. We shall have to plan some kind of programme, I think…’

  ‘Why?’ Diana asked peevishly. ‘I don’t feel like doing anything, and I don’t see why I should.’ She added with a faint whine: ‘I’ve been ill.’

  ‘Mumps,’ observed Euphemia levelly. ‘Thousands of people have them every day of the year, now all you have to do is to be quick and get pretty again. You surely don’t want to walk around with a veil over your face for ever?’ She walked through to the bathroom, saying over her shoulder, ‘Dr van Diederijk will be so pleased to find you your old self again.’

  She took a couple of towels from the pile laid ready and set them handily for the shower. Would he be pleased? she wondered, and then dismissed the thought as a mean one.

  Dinner, taken in a high-ceilinged room opening on to the garden, was a serious affair. Euphemia was secretly thankful that she had packed one or two pretty summer dresses suitable for the evening, for both Mrs Kellard and Diana had changed into elaborate chiffon creations and while neither of them had said anything, she was only too well aware that they thought nothing of her pale patterned cotton voile. The meal itself was lengthy and over-elaborate, and since neither of the ladies ate more than a mouthful of each course, Euphemia was forced to curb her own healthy appetite. It was quite a relief when Diana said that she would go to bed immediately after their coffee and plainly expected Euphemia to go with her. Her aunt bade them good night, told them to ring for anything they might want, and picked up her book. She might have invited her niece to stay as a guest, but she seemed to have no idea about entertaining her.

  In her room Diana undressed slowly, grumbling that she was exhausted and that her head ached.

  ‘Well, I daresay it does,’ observed Euphemia matter-of-factly. ‘It’s been a long day. Sit down and I’ll brush your hair for you—and supposing you take a sleeping pill? Do you want anything in the morning or do you breakfast in bed?’

  ‘I never get up for breakfast!’ Diana sounded
quite horrified. ‘Don’t come near me until ten o’clock. I want you to massage some of that cream on the dressing table into my neck and shoulders, and there’s a mask for my face…’

  It was more than an hour later that Euphemia got to her own room. She got ready for bed slowly, tired and dispirited. She was to be nothing more than a lady’s maid to Diana, and the thought of a whole two weeks fetching and carrying for that young lady appalled her; only the knowledge that at the end of those two weeks she would be free to spend the rest of her holiday at Myrtle House with the boys and Ellen stopped her from bursting into quite unaccountable tears. She got into bed and lay between the cool sheets and thought about Dr van Diederijk. Somehow—she wasn’t sure why—he seemed to be the main cause of her unhappiness.

  But it was impossible to be unhappy when she wakened in the morning. The sun was up in a cloudless sky and it was already warm even at that early hour. She got up and showered and put on a sleeveless cotton dress, then went quickly through the house, intent on a cup of tea if it was to be had and then a stroll in the gardens. She met the house-keeper in the hall and was greeted with a look of such surprise that she asked what was the matter.

  ‘You are up early, miss—the ladies do not usually appear before ten or eleven o’clock. You would like breakfast?’

  Euphemia smiled at her, ‘Yes, please. Where do I go?’

  ‘The garden, perhaps? Coffee and rolls? They will be brought to you.’

  It was glorious sitting in the sunshine on the broad patio. Euphemia gobbled up the rolls, drank all the coffee and started off for her walk. The garden was a large one and beyond it were shrubs and trees screening the house from the road beyond. She found a swimming pool almost at once, then wandered off down flower-bordered paths, going slightly uphill so that presently when she stopped and looked behind her, she could see a good deal of Jerez below her and the broad sweep of the land behind the town. In the morning sunlight it looked beautiful, quite unlike her first impression of it, perhaps because then she had seen it in the glare of the afternoon sun. Presently she strolled back to the house, pausing on the way to ask if she might have breakfast out of doors each morning, and enquiring where she might sit quietly and write some letters.