A Star Looks Down Read online

of them to close their eyes and go to sleep, was quite tired herself.

  She wandered to her room and tidied herself, then, after a peep at her

  charges, went downstairs.

  She should be feeling on top of the world she told herself a little

  peevishly, living in super comfort in a wonderful house with absolutely

  nothing to do but keep an eye on the children, and yet here she was

  feeling sorry for herself because the evening stretched before her with

  nothing to do but eat Mrs Silver's delicious dinner and read or watch

  TV.

  She went into the sitting room and sat down with a magazine; it was

  still too early for dinner and there were plenty of Harpers and Vogues

  lying around.

  She was intent on the latest fashions, when the profess or came in-in a

  dinner jacket again, so he would be going somewhere rather splendid;

  the girl-friend, if Marineka was to be believed, would be the kind of

  girl who expected--and got--only VIP treatment.

  When he said: "Hullo, Elizabeth.

  How about a sherry before I go?

  ' it was surprising how all at once her world became fun, but he didn't

  sit down, only perched on the arm of a chair, talking about the

  children, telling her that their mother was making good progress,

  commenting on their afternoon in a casually friendly manner until he

  looked at his watch and put down his glass.

  "I must go," he told her, 'although I would much rather be staying

  quietly here and dining with you.

  ' And when he saw her face: "You don't believe me, do you?

  When you know me better you will find that I am not given to making

  impulsive remarks, although I daresay that if my deeper feelings were

  involved it might be otherwise.

  You're a very restful person, Elizabeth, as well as being a good and

  intelligent listener.

  ' She considered him thoughtfully.

  "I should have thought after a busy week in theatre you would enjoy

  relaxing in the company of some pretty girl who hadn't the least idea

  what a kidney transplant was and didn't care either.

  ' He had strolled to the door.

  "I'm taking the children to see their mother tomorrow morning," was all

  he said.

  "Please feel free to do exactly what you like until lunch-time.

  Good night, my dear Miss Partridge.

  ' She sat staring at the door, closing soundlessly behind him.

  A snub, even if a gentle one; she must have annoyed him in some way.

  Probably he considered that she had been too familiar--after all, his

  private life was nothing to do with her and men were prone to fits of

  uppish ness; besides, she kept forgetting the fact that he was a

  consultant, an important one, and from the appearance of his house, a

  wealthy one at that; they had little in common, only their work.

  She really would have to try and remember that he had employed her as a

  nanny and do her best to behave like one.

  She wasn't quite sure what he expected of her the next morning; she got

  up with the children and saw to their breakfasts, then when he came

  into the dining room, excused herself on the plea of getting their

  outdoor things ready and went upstairs, to be followed very shortly by

  Alberdina, stumping along on her short legs and demanding to wear her

  best coat, and the other three followed her shortly afterwards.

  Beth sent them all downstairs presently, ready to go out, clutching the

  variety of gifts they had for their mother, and when the front door

  shut behind them she went back to her room where she stood looking

  rather aimlessly out of the window.

  It was a splendid morning again and to stay indoors was unthinkable;

  the vague idea of going back to the flat and getting a meal for

  William--doing his washing, perhaps, took shape in her head and became

  a certainty.

  She put on her jacket, found her handbag and gloves, ran down to the

  kitchen to tell Mrs Silver where she was going, and slipped out of the

  house.

  It was quiet in the Sunday streets and she had to wait a little while

  for a bus, but when it did arrive it was almost empty, so that it

  rattled along without any of the tiresome stops which plagued a weekday

  traveller.

  It was still early as she unlocked the flat door, and a good thing it

  was, she told herself ruefully, looking round at William's hopeless

  attempts at housekeeping.

  She took off her jacket, found a pinny, and got to work, only pausing

  for a cup of coffee after she had done the washing.

  Hoovered and dusted and made his bed.

  A meal was the next thing; she made a shepherd's pie with a tin of

  corned beef, opened a tin of fruit, laid the table, left a brief note,

  and with one last look around, left the flat.

  It was barely twelve o'clock and there was plenty of time to get back

  to the profess or's house and resume her guardianship of the children

  at lunchtime.

  Mrs Silver answered the doorbell, ushering her in with a gentle flow of

  inconsequential chatter which took them across the hall to the foot of

  the staircase, where they were interrupted by Dirk, coming out of the

  sitting room.

  "Uncle Alexander says will you please come in here," he asked her, and

  as she followed him, shattered at having mistimed her morning so badly:

  "Have you been out?

  We've been back ages--we're playing Scrabble.

  ' She looked guiltily across the room to where the profess or was lying

  on the handsome carpet, his chin propped on a hand, frowning over the

  game.

  "I'm so sorry," she began.

  "I didn't know you would be back so early--you said the morning, and I

  foolishly supposed.

  .

  .

  ' "Forgive me getting up, Elizabeth, and you haven't been in the least

  foolish; I did indeed say until lunch-time, and I meant it.

  You have, in fact, almost an hour in which to do as you wish, but if

  you can bear to join us, we shall be delighted, although I should warn

  you that I shall be out for the rest of the day, so if you wish to

  savour the last of your freedom, we shall quite understand.

  Lunch is at a quarter past one.

  ' She laughed then and the children laughed with her.

  "I love Scrabble," she declared, and got down on her knees opposite the

  profess or.

  "You have been out?

  ' he queried gently.

  "Well, yes.

  I popped back to the flat.

  ' "William is a lucky fellow," he murmured.

  "I daresay you made his bed, cleaned the place from attic to cellar and

  cooked his dinner.

  ' It was her turn, so she didn't answer him at once.

  "I like doing it," she told him matter-of factly, and knew that that

  wasn't quite true; she liked doing it up to a certain point, but just

  now and again she longed never to see the dingy little place again; to

  live in a gracious house like the one she was in at the present moment;

  to go shopping and buy whatever she wanted with money she hadn't spent

  months saving.

  "It's your turn," she warned him.

  Beth didn't see the profess or for the rest of the day, indee
d, she

  didn't see him until the Monday evening.

  She had got the children to bed after what she was bound to admit had

  been a highly successful day, for they had been good; true, they had

  bickered and quarrelled, but only in the normal way of brothers and

  sisters, but they had done anything she had asked of them and eaten

  their meals without too much fuss.

  She had done her best to keep them occupied for as much of the day as

  possible and it seemed she had succeeded, for now they were in bed,

  nicely tired.

  She was nicely tired too.

  She ate her solitary dinner and wondered about the profess or; he would

  have had a ward teaching round that morning and probably a lecture as

  well, but the theatre list hadn't been too bad, she had seen it before

  she had left on the Friday, although in all probability it had bulged

  with emergencies before the end of the day.

  Perhaps he wasn't coming home; he might have gone out again with the

  girl who was so well dressed and always wore different clothes each

  time he saw her.

  Beth admitted to a dislike of the unknown charmer, a thought which

  naturally enough led her to get up and study herself in the gilt framed

  mirror between the windows of the sitting room, with the futile wish

  that she could have been beautiful--a wish which brought her no comfort

  at all.

  She was turning her back on her unsatisfactory reflection when the

  profess or walked in and she forgot her own small vexations at once; he

  looked tired, and his craggy, handsome face was haggard.

  "You've had a bad day," she said at once.

  "What happened?

  there wasn't a transplant this morning.

  .

  .

  ' Her beautiful eyes searched his, she looked and sounded like an

  anxious, loving wife, and a tiny flicker of tender amusement came and

  went in his eyes although he answered seriously enough: "The

  girl--remember her?

  She had a bad setback this morning; luckily we were all there and able

  to deal with it at once, but it took the greater part of the day.

  ' "She'll be all right?

  ' "I hope so; she's on sunflower seed oil, as you know, and we're

  pretty sure it isn't a reject, more likely an infection.

  With luck she'll pull through.

  ' "You've had no dinner?

  ' and when he shook his head, "And no lunch either, I'll be bound.

  Shall I ask Mrs Silver to get something for you?

  ' "She heard my key in the door and rushed away to get something

  ready.

  Will you come and sit with me while I eat it, Elizabeth?

  ' She went with him into the dining room; of course he would want to

  tell her about the case; she had learned to listen to William a long

  time ago.

  He had told her once that she was a good listener because she didn't

  interrupt or ask silly questions and understood what he was talking

  about; she hoped the profess or would find her all of those things.

  Mrs Silver must have moved like lightning, for the table was already

  laid.

  The profess or went over to a side table and poured himself a whisky

  and turned to Beth.

  "You'll have a glass of sherry, or do you prefer Madeira?

  ' She hadn't had that since she had lived at home; she accepted a glass

  and went to sit in a crinoline chair beside the vast sideboard, but

  when Mrs Silver returned with a tray and set a plate of soup before the

  profess or he begged her to join him at the table, so she took the

  chair beside his and listened quietly while he told her about his

  day.

  He had finished his soup, the delicious Sole Mo may which followed it,

  and eaten most of one of Mrs Silver's fruit tarts before he had told

  her everything, and because he wanted to explain a particular

  underwater drainage he had decided upon, he pushed his plate to one

  side and started drawing diagrams on the back of an envelope.

  And Beth listened carefully and studied his drawings closely; it was

  more than likely that sooner or later she would need to know all about

  it.

  She was studying his diagrams closely when she was startled to hear him

  say: "You really are a dear girl; here have I been boring on and you

  haven't yawned once.

  ' She looked up to smile at him.

  "Why should I yawn?

  I'm interested--it's my work too, you know, in a lesser degree.

  ' He nodded.

  "You plan to stay in hospital?

  You have no thought of marrying?

  ' She grinned engagingly.

  "No thought at all.

  You see, I'm not very well endowed.

  A plain girl with some money might get married, but a plain girl

  without any doesn't stand much of a chance.

  If I were pretty it would be easy enough to get married.

  Men," stated Beth seriously, 'like pretty girls.

  ' He was peeling a peach, now he put it on a plate and handed it to her

  and began one one for himself.

  "Of course men like pretty girls; it would be a strange world if we

  didn't.

  ' He smiled suddenly.

  "The children think you're pretty, did you know that?

  ' "No--and how nice of you to tell me; people usually keep nice things

  to themselves and pass on the nasty remarks.

  ' "You sound bitter, dear girl.

  ' He leaned back in his chair, studying her quite openly.

  "Tell me about yourself," he invited.

  "There's nothing to tell.

  ' She spoke too quickly and he said softly: "Ah, I see that I must

  wait.

  What does William intend to do at the end of the year?

  ' It was easy enough to talk about William.

  "He's going to try for a surgical job--somewhere where he'll get plenty

  of experience-the Midlands.

  ' "You will go with him?

  ' The?

  No.

  He'll live in wherever he is; besides, he'll be moving around until he

  feels he can try for a registrar's post and his Fellowship.

  ' "And you will stay at St Elmer's?

  ' "Well, yes.

  .

  .

  ' She saw her future in her mind's eye and didn't much care for it.

  She added rather crossly.

  "What else should I do?

  ' "I can think of a number of things.

  Shall we have coffee in the sitting room?

  ' She poured their coffee from the little silver Queen Anne coffee pot

  into Spode china cups and passed him the sugar.

  The curtains were drawn now and the room looked, despite its

  magnificence, delightfully homelike.

  She cast a lingering look around her and caught her companion's eye.

  "This is a lovely house, and when one is in it, one forgets that London

  is just outside.

  ' He agreed gravely.

  "And yet I prefer the country, as I believe you do.

  Do you ride, Elizabeth?

  ' "Yes at least, I used to.

  We had a pony when we were children, and then there was Beauty.

  .

  my stepbrother wanted to sell them after my father's death, but we

  persuaded him not to.

  They'll be old now I hope they're well cared for.

  ' "Why not?


  perhaps they are out to graze at some farm.

  ' "There were some people called Truscott they had a farm near Chifney,

  they may have taken them.

  .

  .

  ' "What did you call the pony?

  ' His voice He nodded.

  "You plan to stay in hospital?

  You have no thought of marrying?

  ' She grinned engagingly.

  "No thought at all.

  You see, I'm not very well endowed.

  A plain girl with some money might get married, but a plain girl

  without any doesn't stand much of a chance.