Fate takes a hand Read online

  `No, Mrs Pearce. Miss Kendall was rude and abusive; she is the one who should apologise. Unfortunately she has money and influence on her side, hasn't she?'

  Mrs Pearce looked uncomfortable. 'If you could overlook it...' she began, but seeing the stubborn look on Eulalia's face said no more.

  Trottie took the news with a solid calm. 'You did right, Miss Lally, and don't you go regretting it. We've had hard times before, and got through them, and you'll get a job in no time. What have we got in the bank?'

  They spent the evening doing sums, plotting and planning. Peter's school fees were safe, tied up in a trust, even if she had wanted to get at them—which

  she most definitely didn't. It was a question of cutting down on their already tight budget until she found work.

  There was little chance to go job-hunting during that week, and she couldn't bring herself to ask for time off to try for any of the likely jobs advertised. She went home on Saturday evening, her last pay-packet in her purse, feeling scared and defiant at the same time. As Trottie had said, they had weathered worse storms...

  She hadn't told Peter and she didn't intend to until she had found other work. She spent the next week applying for any likely job. She had a good reference, and there were a number of likely offers. She wrote letters, telephoned, even took long bus journeys in the hope of getting some work, but luck was against her—she was too old, too young, lived too far away. At the end of the following week she was taken on as an interviewer for a new brand of soap powder, stopping passers-by and asking for their opinion about rival soap powders. It was a thankless task: busy housewives didn't want to stop, young women were flippant, old ladies either chillingly dismissive or garrulous. Besides, it was hard on the feet and it rained for most of the time, but she was glad to be earning some money and, more than that, it was a job of sorts. 'Out of work' sounded so hopeless.

  She had been given Southampton Row and Bloomsbury Way as her stamping ground. The agent

  who had employed her had decided that she was pretty and looked—to use that old-fashioned word— ladylike; people were more likely to stop for her, especially in that area.

  It was on her last day that Mr van Linssen, driving himself away from Great Ormond Street hospital, caught sight of her, standing with her board and pen poised. He slowed the car, the better to see what she was doing, and saw her approach a woman with a Harrods bag on her arm, who halted briefly, waved her away and walked on. He drew into the side of the road and watched her, oblivious of the traffic warden making his way towards him. Eulalia had stopped another woman now, with more success it seemed, for she was writing something down and the woman was talking.

  The warden tapped on the car window and he turned round; at the same time the man saw his `Doctor on Duty' ticket, nodded and walked away, which left Mr van Linssen free to stare his fill. What was Eulalia doing so far from the flower shop and why was she doing it? He started the car and drove on, already late for the first of his private patients.

  It was two days before he could find time to visit the shop, to be greeted by a prim girl with glasses, and as thin as a wafer, a cruel contrast to Eulalia's opulent person.

  `Miss Warburton?' he enquired, and Mrs Pearce came from the back of the shop.

  `You wanted to speak to Eulalia? I'm afraid I had to dismiss her. One of my best customers complained about her rudeness. She was a very outspoken girl at times, but a good worker.' Her eyes strayed to her new assistant, listlessly bunching stocks.

  Mr van Linssen drew a bow at a venture. 'Was the customer by any chance Miss Kendall—my fiancée?'

  Mrs Pearce, scenting the likelihood of substantial orders in the future, answered readily. 'Yes—so unfortunate—and I do apologise for Eulalia's sharp tongue. Do you care to order any flowers today?'

  He gave her a cold look. 'Thank you, no. I merely wished to speak to Miss Warburton.'

  He got back into his car. He had a list that afternoon, and it would be evening before he was free to seek Eulalia out, but he just had time to go and see Ursula before he was due at the hospital.

  She was at home, getting ready to go out to lunch with friends.

  enno —how lovely—are you free? I'm lunching with the Abbotts and they won't mind if you come with me— we're meeting at Claridge's. You've got your car? Good, I needn't get a taxi.' She stopped and looked at him then. 'What's the matter? You look angry—' she smiled `—but not with me, I hope?'

  `Yes, with you, Ursula. Do you know that your complaint about Eulalia at the flower shop resulted in her dismissal? What exactly occurred?'

  `Oh, darling, such a fuss about nothing—such an impertinent girl...'

  `Why was she impertinent?'

  Ursula shrugged. 'Oh, I really can't remember, and she was so clumsy that I dropped the flowers and the vase.' She put a hand on his arm. 'Nothing to worry about, Fenno. Let's go.'

  His eyes were hard. 'I'm operating. I'm already in danger of being late. I'll see you some time.'

  He left her, and after a minute she shrugged again and told the maid to ring for a taxi. She would have to be extra charming so that he would be his usual patient and tolerant self with her. She was a vain young woman and she had no fear of rivals.

  Mr van Linssen, preparing to leave in the late afternoon, found himself back in Theatre once more, dealing with an emergency, and it was late evening by the time he let himself into his house. Dodge, looking more sorrowful than ever, served him his dinner, observed that Miss Kendall had telephoned twice, and expressed the opinion that his master could do with a good night's sleep.

  `I shan't be going in to the hospital until the afternoon,' he was told. 'I'll have a quiet morning catching up with the paperwork.'

  Dodge shook his head sadly and went away to bring in the coffee-tray. At least his master had shown no desire to phone that Miss Kendall.

  Mr van Linssen had his breakfast at the usual time,

  spent an hour at his desk and then fetched his car and, with a word to Dodge that he would be back for lunch, drove himself away.

  I wonder where he's off to? reflected Dodge. Mad as fire, he is. Never a nasty word, but seething all the same.

  Mr van Linssen stopped in the Cromwell Road outside Eulalia's flat and went down to its front door, gave the knocker a thump and waited with well-concealed impatience. Trottie opened the door, gave him one look and said, 'Oh, sir...' and then added, `How nice to see you—you'll come in? I'm doing the housework, if you don't mind the mess.'

  He took her hands in his. 'Miss Trott, what has happened? I saw Eulalia near Great Ormond Street hospital, canvassing people. I went to the shop and was informed she had been dismissed. I was told one side of the story, now I want to hear the other.'

  Trottie didn't find it strange that he should ask. `I'll make us a cup of coffee and I'll tell you,' she promised, and presently sat down opposite him. `Miss Lally's out looking for work. That was only a temporary job, asking people about soap powder— you know—they call it a survey. And I'll tell you why she got sacked, only perhaps I shouldn't, because you may be angry.'

  He drank some of his coffee; there was no cake, he noticed. 'No, I promise I won't be that.'

  `Well, I don't know what Miss Lally'll say when

  I tell her—you see, it was things said about you and her, and it was your future intended who said them.'

  He smiled at her. 'Miss Trott, if it is what I suspect, then I need to know—is it something Eulalia wouldn't tell me herself even if I asked her?'

  `Lord, she'd rather run a mile, sir. That upset she was...' Trottie told him then, and when she'd finished she said, `So you see how it is, sir, she wasn't going to apologise for something she hadn't said or done.'

  `Of course not. I'm sorry this has happened and perhaps it would be better to say nothing to Eulalia. I will forget what you have told me, so that if ever she and I should meet in the future she need never know that I am aware of what was said.' He smiled suddenly. 'And the amusing thing is that she
can't stand the sight of me!'

  Trottie didn't answer that; sometimes it was best not to interfere with Fate's antics.

  `Forgive me for asking, but are the three of you able to manage until she finds another job?'

  Trottie was a simple soul and she trusted him. `Well, Peter's fees are safe—they are in some kind of trust that I don't really understand. We've cut down as much as we can but, you see, we've never been able to save more than a few pounds. It's kind of you to ask, sir, but it's more than my life's worth to accept anything from you—you see that, don't you?'

  He nodded. 'Yes, Miss Trott, I do.' A vague, ri-

  diculous plan was taking shape at the back of his head—a pity he had no time to examine it now. He got up, kissed Trottie's elderly soft cheek, left some pocket-money on the table for Peter and took him-

  self off.

  Driving back to his house, he began to laugh. The idea was so preposterous, it might work!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MR VAN LINSSEN was unable to pursue his preposterous idea until late that night, when his long day was finished and he was at home sitting at his desk, roughing out a paper on bones which he was to read at a seminar in Holland within the next few weeks. Presently he laid down his pen and sat back and allowed his thoughts to dwell on it. Then he opened his appointment-book and studied it carefully. With a few adjustments and the help of his invaluable secretary, he should be able to give himself a weekend free from patients.

  On Friday evening he told Dodge that he would be away for the weekend. `Ah, yes, sir,' said Dodge, looking more unhappy than ever. 'You will be seeing Miss Kendall?'

  `Miss Kendall? No, Dodge, I'm spending it in the Cotswolds.'

  He left early on the Saturday morning and drove down the M until he turned off for Malmesbury, where he stopped to enquire the way, driving on presently through the quiet countryside through small side-roads until he reached the village he sought—Brokenwell, a fair-sized place with a wide main street, a village green with a cluster of houses,

  shops and an ancient church. He stopped outside the village pub, the Boy and Horseshoe, and went unhurriedly into the bar where he had coffee, since it was too early for a drink, and enquired if he might stay the night.

  There was a room, agreed the landlord, and he was welcome to it.

  `Come far, have you, sir?'

  `London. I'm looking for someone and I don't know where to start. A family called Warburton lived here, I believe, and I want to get in touch with their solicitor. I don't suppose you could help me?'

  `Well, now, that's something I don't know, but if you tried Mrs Tagge at the post office, she'll know, seeing as how she sorts the post and so on.'

  Mr van Linssen thanked him, observed that he would be back presently, and crossed the green to the small general stores and post office.

  Mrs Tagge was old, rather deaf and short-sighted. That didn't matter, though, as she gave him the information he sought. 'Wanting 'im for a bit of business?' she wanted to know. 'Well-known in these parts, 'e is.'

  `So I understand. Thank you, Mrs Tagge.'

  He went back to the pub, looked up the solicitor's phone number and dialled it. There was just the chance that there would be someone there on a Saturday morning. There was: the solicitor himself, sounding impatient. 'I'm on the point of going home

  for the weekend,' he pointed out. 'It would have to be a matter of urgency if you want to see me.'

  Mr van Linssen didn't waste his words. 'You were the Warburton family's solicitor, I believe. I know Miss Warburton. She has fallen on hard times and I am anxious to help her, since it is the fault of a close connection of mine that this has happened. I need your help.'

  Mr Willett's voice became more friendly. ulalia? Well, yes, I am prepared to see you, Mr— I didn't quite get your name.'

  Wan Linssen. When will it be convenient to you? I must be back in London by eight o'clock on Monday morning at the latest. I'm staying at the Boy and Horseshoe.'

  `Perhaps you would come to my office this afternoon. Two o'clock. Cirencester—you know the address? Good. I must tell you that this is most unusual, but Eulalia is a dear girl and she hasn't had a very happy life, I imagine, since she left Brokenwell.'

  Mr van Linssen agreed, rang off, and took himself off to the pub for bread and cheese and beer, agreed with the landlord that steak and kidney pie with young beans and jacket potatoes would suit him very well that evening, then went to his room—a spotlessly clean apartment, the window of which overlooked the back garden—donned a light jacket and drove himself to Cirencester, a matter of eight miles or so.

  Mr Willett was in his office, an elderly man with a serious face. He shook hands, pointed out again that he .wasn't in the habit of seeing clients on a Saturday afternoon, but since it was Eulalia... 'You are a friend of hers?'

  `Hardly, although we have met. But I am good friends with little Peter.'

  `Ah, yes, the little boy who was orphaned. Very sad. She came at once to the rescue, you know. Before we go any further, may I enquire your purpose in helping Eulalia?'

  `As I said, it was through a close connection of mine that she lost her job. Peter broke his arm recently and I have been looking after him. It was Miss Trott who told me that they had fallen on bad times.'

  `Trottie—of course, she went with Eulalia—a dear soul. You are their doctor?'

  `No. I'm in orthopaedics at Maude's. That is how I came to know Peter.'

  `Ah, yes, I see. And in what way can I help you?'

  `This may sound a little out of the ordinary,' observed Mr van Linssen, 'but if you will hear me out...'

  Two hours later he was back at the pub, drinking the strong tea the landlord had offered and eating a lardy cake to go with it. 'Mrs Wedge, the wife that is, is a rare cook. Happen you'll enjoy it, sir.'

  Mr van Linssen, contented with his day's work, did.

  The next day, Sunday or no Sunday, he was agree-

  ably surprised how willing people were to do business with him when instant payment was offered. No one could have been more helpful than the house agent in Malmesbury, disturbed while browsing over the Sunday papers. He had long ago decided that the cottage this placid gentleman was willing to buy without more ado would never sell—only to a fool who hadn't any idea what it would cost to put it to rights. Although this particular gentleman didn't look like a fool.

  Still, business was business. He readily undertook to deal with the purchase as speedily as possible and pocketed Mr van Linssen's cheque before he could change his mind.

  Mr van Linssen, aware of the house agent's opinion, smiled to himself and went back to London. He could safely leave the rest to Mr Willett.

  Dodge didn't fail to notice his look of satisfaction. `A pleasant weekend, I trust, sir?' he enquired discreetly.

  `Splendid, Dodge, thank you.' He was leafing through the letters and messages on the hall table. There was nothing that required his immediate attention, so he went to his study with the pleasant prospect of a quiet evening and one of Dodge's well-cooked dinners.

  The phone rang as he sat down. Ursula, wanting to know where he had been. 'And don't tell me you were at the hospital because they said you weren't.'

  `Quite right. I've been out of town on business.'

  `What business?'

  He was still feeling pleased with himself. 'You don't need to concern yourself with such a dull thing as business, Ursula.'

  She gave a tinkling laugh. 'I should hope not. I had a lovely day out in the country—the Thornefolds' place—town's so boring this time of year, darling. Couldn't you take a teeny-weeny holiday? We could have a week or two in the Bahamas. The Thornefolds are going—they've rented a villa on one of those islands. We could be alone.'

  Mr van Linssen, without going too deeply into the reason, didn't particularly wish to be alone with his Ursula. 'My dear girl, a holiday, even a couple of days, is quite out of the question. I've an appointment-book bursting at the seams, and besides, I'm due back i
n Holland within the next week or so. You could come back with me if you like?'

  `Don't be silly, Fenno. Holland would be as bad as London—probably worse. All those sausages and cheese...'

  He let that pass. She was entitled to her views; perhaps she would alter them when they were married. He frowned at the thought, and said quickly, 'I'll try and get away early tomorrow evening—we might go out to dinner somewhere—in the country, if you like?'

  `Oh, all right. Somewhere decent—I don't want to be hemmed in by yokels.' She sounded peevish. `Call for me about seven-thirty.'

  She rang off and he put the phone down, sat down at his desk and opened the first of the folders on it and became immersed at once in its contents, Ursula forgotten, although, strangely enough, the memory of Eulalia standing in a corner of the street with a clip-board, earning a precarious living, persisted in coming between him and the patient's notes before him.

  Eulalia had found another job. Putting leaflets about some newfangled washing-machine through letterboxes. Temporary, of course, and she was in a way thankful, for it was boring and tiring and kept her on her feet for the entire day. However she was paid for it—a miserable sum, but better than nothing. It lasted for ten days, and on the day after that, two days before Peter would start his holidays, the postman brought a letter. She didn't open it at once; it was an expensive envelope and it looked official, and she dreaded to open it in case it was some unexpected demand for money. She turned it over in her hand and put it down on the table.

  `Go on,' said Trottie, 'open it, Miss Lally.'

  The letter inside was on the same expensive paper, and she glanced at the heading and frowned. 'It's from Mr Willett—you remember, Trottie?—our solicitor at Cirencester. Whatever can he be writing about?'

  Trottie tutted impatiently. 'Read it and find out,' she suggested.