The Bachelor's Wedding Read online

  "No, not at all. Though I usually take jobs where I can go home each day…"

  "You have parents, or do you live on your own?"

  "I have a father and a younger sister."

  "My dear, you must ring them and tell them you'll be home tomorrow. I'm not sure when, though." She frowned. "Jason didn't say, did he?"

  "Well, it doesn't matter. I'll be home round about noon, I expect plenty of time to do the shopping and cook the supper." She stood up. "I'll just pop down to the butcher. What would you like for supper, Mrs. Gault? And wouldn't you like to have a nap for an hour? I'll call you in good time for lunch. Mrs. Pretty goes around one o' clock-would it do if I had lunch ready for just after that?"

  "Something light. Don't go to a lot of trouble, my dear. You'll need some time to pack. There won't be much time in the morning; Jason is always so punctual."

  So Araminta took herself off to the village shops, buying with a prudent eye and saying her goodbyes with some reluctance; she had grown attached to the charming place during the two weeks she had been there. She had a mug of tea with Mrs. Pretty when she got back, fending off that lady's searching questions as to her future with gentle vagueness.

  There were several jobs to keep her busy for the rest of that day, and, supper over and cleared away, she excused herself with the plea that she still had to finish her packing and went to her room; the children hadn't had much of a chance to talk to their mother, nor she to them.

  She washed her hair and then lay in a too-hot bath, thinking about the future. There would be quite a nice sum of money to collect from the agency, but most of it would have to go into the household purse. She only hoped that Alice hadn't been running up bills… She would have to take the next job she was offered, but it would have to be one where she could go to and fro each day. She felt no enthusiasm for that and turned her thoughts to the drive back to London with Professor Lister. A strange man reserved, wrapped up much too tightly in his work, and yet kind. She liked him, despite the fact that he didn't appear to like her-no, she had that wrong, he had never displayed any feelings towards her save gratitude, and that in an absent-minded fashion.

  He arrived at nine o'clock, bade her good morning, made his unhurried farewells, assured his sister that he would be down to see her as soon as he could spare the time, popped Araminta into the car, got in and drove away. "They had been driving for some time and were on the A303 before he spoke.

  "Whereabouts is your agency?" And when she told him, he said, "We'll call there on our way, shall we, and you can collect whatever is owing to you?"

  "How kind, but there is no need. I can go this afternoon or tomorrow morning."

  His grunt left her uncertain as to whether he agreed with her. "You will take a few days off?"

  "Well, not if there's a job available where I can go home each day."

  "Perhaps if your sister has been sufficiently reassured by her doctor, she will find something to do." His voice was dry.

  "Well, I don't know what," said Araminta forthrightly. "She isn't trained for anything, you see."

  "Neither are you, Miss Smith."

  A remark which she felt put her neatly in her place. She had no intention of replying to it but sat composedly, watching the scenery flash past.

  As they neared Fleet service station, he asked, "Coffee? Breakfast seems a long while ago," and turned the car into the vast car-park.

  The place was crowded but he found a small table for two, sat her down at it and went to fetch the coffee. They drank it in friendly silence and without waste of time, and as they got up to go he said easily, "I'll be in the car come when you're ready."

  Thankfully Araminta sped to the ladies'.

  As they approached the outskirts of the city. she asked, "Would it be more convenient for you to put me down at a bus-stop? I dare say you're busy and I have alll day."

  "So have I until late this afternoon. I'll take you home, Araminta."

  The Rolls drew up soundlessly before her house and the professor got out, opened her door, and crossed the narrow pavement besidc her, waiting while she got out her key and unlocked the door. The little house felt chilly and rather damp. It was quiet too.

  "Alice," called Araminta. "Alice?" And she poked her head round the sitting-room door. The room was empty and extremely untidy and dusty. She withdrew her head and turned to the professor. "There's no one at home. Would you like some coffee?" She hoped she didn't sound as unwilling as she felt to let him see the sittingroom-and the kitchen would be worse.

  Professor Lister had taken in the air of neglect, the faint smell of a meal which hung in it, the film of dust on the small table in the hall. He was filled with a pitying concern-to come home to such a place-no welcome, and that didn't mean that there had to be someone there, but a cheerful and clean house, a few flowers, a nice feeling that someone would be hack home soon. Araminta was making the best of it, although he suspected that once she was alone she would burst into tears…

  He hadn't gone into the agency with her; she had come out looking cheerful, with the observation that there was a job waiting for her only a short bus-ride from her home. He had asked her to have lunch with him then, but she had declined quietly and he hadn't pressed her. He wished now that he had. He said, carefully casual, "Well, since there is no one at home, I suggest you come with me and we'll find somewhere to eat."

  "You're very kind," she told him, "but if you don't mind I'd better stay here. I expect Alice is shopping; she might be home at any minute." She smiled rather shyly. "It was very kind ol' you to bring me home. I'm most grateful."

  He studied her quiet face for a moment. "I'll get your bag," he said.

  Which he did, setting it down in the narrow hall, towering over her. "I-my sister and I are most grateful to you, Miss Smith. I hope that you will be able to take a few days ofl before you take another job."

  "Oh, I shall," she told him_ earnestly, not meaning a word of it. She put out a hand and had it engulfed in his large, firm grip. " I enjoyed it, you know-Tisbury was lovely; to open the door in the morning and see nothing but green fields outside." Her eyes were on the row of identical red-brick houses opposite. She said too brightly, "Goodbye, Professor Lister."

  To his astonishment he found himself wishing to kiss her, but he didn't, merely released her hand, smiled and got back into his car. He drove away without looking back.

  "That's that," said Araminta, and shut the door behind her, took her bag upstairs and went down to the kitchen. It was a miserable little place in any case, now made much worse by the dirty dishes waiting to be washed, used pans on the grimy stove and a floor sadly in need of a good scrub, let alone a sweep. She was hungry, but she couldn't eat until she had cleared up the mess. She got her pinny from behind the kitchen door and set to work. There wasn't time to do all that needed to be done, but the dishes were washed, the stove wiped clean and the floor swept and mopped. She made herself some tea then, found bread and butter and cheese and sat down to eat it before going along to the sitting-room. She had restored it to a dusted and tidy state when Alice came back. She stood in the doorway, looking at Araminta.

  "So you're back, and high time too. Living off the fat of the land, I suppose, while I slave away in this beastly place."

  "Hello, Alice. I didn't let you know I would be back because I wasn't sure what time we'd get here."

  "We? Who's we?"

  "Professor Lister gave me a lift."

  Alice flung her coat and a plastic shoppingbag on to a chair. "And I missed him. Is he coming again?"

  "No, why should he? The job's finished. The agency has another one for me-mornings. Nine o' clock until noon. It's ten minutes from the bus."

  "Well, I hope you've got some money. There's the butcher and greengrocer to pay I've been running up bills."

  "Surely Father gave you the housekeeping…"

  "I spent most of it on a jacket-it looks just like leather, and I just had to have it."

  "Supposing I tell y
ou that I haven't been paid," said Araminta.

  Alice shrugged. "We'll just have to keep on running up bills. I'm glad you're back because you can do that."

  She's my sister and I must love her, thought Araminta desperately. "Did you go to the doctor?"

  "Yes, but only because that heavenly man told me to."

  "And what did he say?"

  Alice said sulkily, "He said that I should have gone months ago to see him."

  "So there's nothing wrong with you?"

  "That's what he said, but I'm delicate Father says so."

  "All the same, you'll have to find a job, Alice, with enough money so that you don't use the housekeeping. And this place was like a pigsty."

  Alice eyed her with astonishment. "Good Lord, what's come over you? I shan't do anything of the sort; there's enough with you and Father working. I'll look after the house."

  "But you don't, do you, Alice?"

  "Well, it's so boring, isn't it? What's for lunch?"

  "I had a sandwich. What have you got for supper tonight?"

  "Steak-Father fancied that-it's on the bill, so I didn't have to pay for it."

  Araminta bit back the words on her tongue. What would be the use of getting angry? "I'm going to unpack and do a load of washing and then the ironing." She started for the door.

  "There are a lot of Father's shirts," began Alice.

  "I shan't be long. You can put in a load after mine and do the ironing tomorrow morning while I'm at work."

  Alice stared at her. "What's come over you, Araminta? You like housework; you've been doing it for years."

  "Yes, and I expect I shall go on doing it for years to come, but I get paid from the agency-I've never been paid here, have I"?" Araminta spoke in a matter-of-fact voice. "Now I really must get ready for the morning-you'll see to supper?"

  But, when she went downstairs with a load of washing for the machine, Alice had gone, leaving a note on the kitchen table. She had promised a friend that she would go to the cinema and she wouldn't be home until the evening.

  So Araminta cooked the supper and greeted her father when he got home.

  "You're back." He kissed her cheek. "I'm glad to see you, my dear. Alice really isn't up to running a house, you know. Did you get paid?"

  Araminta was laying the table. "Yes, Father. I'll go tomorrow afternoon and pay the bills, if you'll let me have them, and I shall need some housekeeping money.,

  "Things are a bit tight-there have been one or two expenses… You've enough to tide us over?"

  "I don't think so. I'll settle as many bills as I can. Father, now that Alice is as fit as you or I, she should get a job too and help out. Don't you agree?"

  "Well, my dear, Alice isn't cut out for hard work. Surely between us we can manage to keep her at home? She's such a pretty girl she's sure to get a good husband, especially now she's going out and about quite a bit."

  Araminta dished up. She wanted to scream, throw something, break a few bits of china; she was back on the treadmill again with no hope of escaping. She could earn just enough from the agency to keep them solvent, and even when Alice married, as she was certain to do, she herself would have to stay at home to look after the house and her father. She said in a quiet little voice, "Supper's ready, Father. Alice has gone out with friends."

  "She deserves a little jaunt. I must say, Araminta, that leaving us to fend for ourselves was rather unkind of you."

  There was no answer to that. Presently, after supper, she did the ironing while her father watched television, and then she went to bed, where she cried herself to sleep because she was unhappy. "The unfairness of life," she mumbled into her pillow. "Being plain and poor and condemned to endless household chores and never going to see Professor Lister again."

  She was up early to cook the breakfast and then leave to catch her bus. Alice wasn't down yet and her father had hardly spoken to hr-, and that, she knew, was because she hadn't given him any of her earnings. She had added up the bills she had found stuffed in a drawer and the total shocked her; there was no question of giving him any money, although being a still-loving daughter she felt guilty about it, but if she had given way to his wishes no bills would have been paid, she was sure of that.

  The address she had been given was in a quiet street in Bloomsbury, one of a terrace of tall Victorian houses with basements with barred widows. It looked well-cared-for, and that cheered her. The agency had told her that she was needed to assist the house-owner with her elderly mother, and the pay was quite good. She mounted the steps and rang the bell.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE door was opened by a woman with a grubby apron and an even grubbier pair of hands. "You're the new help?" She nodded her head over her shoulder. "Come on in and good luck to you, ducks."

  She stood aside and Araminta went past her into a wide hall, handsomely papered and thickly carpeted. "She's in "ere," said the woman, and opened a door.

  It was a large room, made small by the amount of old-fashioned heavy furniture in it. The curtains were half drawn so that it was gloomy and, as the window was shut, Araminu was met by a wave of cold stuffy air.

  The woman gave her a poke in the back. "Mrs. Taylor will be along, ducks," and closed the door behind her.

  Araminta walked into the centre of the room and peered around. There was a narrow bed pushed into the corner of the room, and she went towards it. Presumably the hump in it was a person. Araminta said "Good morning," and wondered if she should pull the curtains. The door opened and a youngish woman came in, crossed to the window, pulled back the curtains ,end turned to look at Araminta.

  "I hope you're strong," she said, and then added, "You are from the agency?"

  "Yes, good morning." Araminta supposed that she should have added "madam' but she wasn't going to; the woman was ill-mannered and Araminta, with enough to worry about, wasn't inclined to be meek.

  The woman nodded towards the bed. "My mother-she has to be got up, washed and dressed, and sat in her chair. You'll clean the room and make up the bed, light the fire and see that she has a hot drink. Mrs. Loder goes at half-past eleven. If I'm not back, you'll have to wait until I get home."

  "The agency told me that the hours were nine o'clock until noon."

  "That's right. I hope you're not a clock-watcher. There's a cloakroom off the hall; you can wash Mrs. Price there. You'll find all you need in the kitchen at the end of the hall. I'll see you when I get back."

  Not very satisfactory, reflected Araminta, and took a good look at the room before going to introduce herself to the occupant of the bed.

  The furniture was good, even if too large, but it was dusty and dull from lack of polishing. There was ash in the fireplace behind the high fire-guard, and a pile of newspapers on one of the chairs. She advanced to the bed. Her "Good morning, Mrs. Price," was greeted with a grunt, and an elderly, ill-tempered face peered at her from a tumbled bed.

  "I've come to help you," said Araminta. " I will help you wash and dress and tidy up a bit." She eyed the bedlinen. "And put clean sheets on the bed."

  "I don't want to get up. I'm very comfortable as I am."

  "Well, if I'm going to make the bed I'm afraid you'll have to get out of it, and you'll feel much more the thing once you are in a chair."

  Araminta, wheedling the old lady to get from her bed, wondered why the agency hadn't told her that it was really a job for someone with nursing experience. It took the best part of an hour to get Mrs. Price to walk to the cloakroom, get her washed and dressed, and then sitting in a chair while Araminta brushed her sparse white hair. "I'm cold," said Mrs. Price.

  Araminta rummaged in a drawer and found a shawl. "I'll get the fire lighted," she promised.

  That took some time; Mrs. Loder had to be found and asked where brushes and bucket, firewood and coals were kept, and the ashes had to be swept up and carted away. "And I want clean sheets," said Araminta firmly as she came hack into the house from the back yard, "and the vacuum cleaner and dusters."
/>   "New brooms sweep clean," said Mrs. Loder, "and mind you remember that I'm off when me time's up and not a minute longer."

  Araminta lighted the fire, made a warm drink for Mrs. Price, and began on the bed. She wondered when the sheets had last been changed, and got great satisfaction from the sight of the nicely made bed when she had finished it. She dumped the used linen in the cloakroom andd set about vacuuming, and by then it was almost twelve o'clock. She flew round with a duster, tut-tutting at the dirt and at the same time engaging the old lady in conversation. "Do you go out at all?"

  "Me? No, Miss Nosy, I don't. I prefer to stay here in my own room, although my daughter can't find a sensible woman to clean the placc and attend to my wants, and I don't know why."

  "We're hard to find," said Araminta mildly, and longed for five minutes peace and a cup of coffee.

  Twelve o'clock came and went and there was no sign of Mrs. Taylor. It was half an hour later by the time she returned. She came into the room, nodded to her mother and observed, "You found everything then." Her eyes lighted on the bed. "Clean sheets surely not necessary…?"

  "The bedlinen was filthy," said Araminta, and had the satisfaction of seeing Mrs. Taylor's face grow red.

  "You put everything in the washing machine, I hope? There'll be time for you to iron it tomorrow."

  "It's in the cloakroom, and I'll do the ironing if you wish me to, Mrs. Taylor, but then I won't have time to do anything for Mrs. Price."

  Mrs. Taylor's ample bosom swelled visibly. "Three hours is ample time to do the little there is to do for my mother. Since you are new to the job, I'll ask Mrs. Loder to do the ironing. Be here punctually in the morning, Miss Smith."

  She went out of the room, which was as well, for Araminta was on the point of giving her employer the same advice.

  There was no sign of Alice when she got home, although there were the remains of a snack lunch on the table. Araminta, feeling grubby after her morning's chores, washed and changed before sitting down to her own lunch. She didn't linger over it, but collected the bills, fetched her purse and shopping-bag, and walked to the row of small shops at the end of the street. She wouldn't be able to pay them all; she would need to keep some of the money back until such time as her father let her have more. She went in and out of the various shops, paying everyone something and buying food suitable to the household budget. Now that she was home each day there would be no need to buy the fast food Alice had found so convenient.