A Dream Come True Read online

  Visitors started calling quickly enough. Jemima found herself having her lunch on a tray while Mrs Spencer, Pooley and the daily help coped with lunch for half a dozen ladies. On the second occasion of this happening she took her tray down to the kitchen and found that despite Mrs Spencer's stern rule, the place was in chaos.

  `You need more help, don't you?' she asked the housekeeper. `Tell me what I can do Lady Manderly won't need me until her friends have gone.'

  Mrs Spencer's eyes strayed to the dishwasher and before she could speak, Jemima said cheerfully: `That's something I could manage...'

  Mrs Spencer's severe face actually smiled. `Well, it would be a great help. There's two extra for lunch we didn't know about.'

  Jemima wondered who they were; there had been a Colonel and Mrs someone or other and a Mr and Mrs Plum-she remembered them because of the funny name, but since they were here they would have to be fed. She took

  an apron off the hook behind the kitchen door, swathed herself in it, and started to stack plates and bowls. The machine filled and doing its work, she turned to the glass and silver piled up by one of the sinks. Mrs Spencer was arranging coffee cups on a tray and Pooley was about to carry it upstairs while the daily help was taking off her overall and getting into her coat and jamming a forbidding hat on her head. She was a middle-aged body, hardworking, invariably silent and punctual, but nothing would induce her to stay one moment after her rightful working hours. She nodded briefly in the general direction of Mrs Spencer and Jemima and went out of the kitchen.

  `Why don't you snatch something to eat?' asked Jemima, `you must be famished. And another thing, Mrs Spencer, don't give me a tray again-why can't I come down here and have something with you? Then I'd be here to give a hand and you'd get a moment to yourself.'

  `Well, I'm sure you're very kind, miss.' Mrs Spencer was pouring soup into a bowl. `It's not always like this-it's just them two coming at the last minute. And I'm sure you've been ever so helpful with them lists-the other companions weren't no help at all, grumbled something awful if they didn't get their meals sent up on the dot and never set foot inside the kitchen.' She stirred her soup and looked thunderous. `Not that I'd ' ave 'ad 'em here.' She saw the uncertain look on Jemima's face. `Not meaning no offence, miss, you being so helpful. Of course you can 'ave something with us in the kitchen, though only when we're busy, mind you. Lady Manderly wouldn't like it.'

  `She doesn't have to know, Mrs Spencer.'

  They exchanged a speaking look before Jemima turned back to the sink.

  She was gently washing Lady Manderly's silver when the kitchen door opened. Pooley with the coffee cups, which meant that she would have to hurry if she were to be available the moment her employer wanted her. She looked over one shoulder. `Over here, if you don't mind...' and then stopped because it wasn't Pooley at all but the Professor. She turned her back on his stare at once and applied herself to the spoons, and he crossed to Mrs Spencer, who had got to her feet in a dignified flurry.

  `Don't get up,' he begged her. `I only came down to thank you for your trouble-we must have caused a good deal of bother.'

  `Now as to that,' observed Mrs Spencer with a touch of her habitual tartness, `you was unexpected, sir. Lucky I've got good 'elpers, and Miss Mason here giving an 'and.'

  `You're short of staff?' he wanted to know. `Surely you and Pooley don't do everything between you?"

  'Well, no-Mrs Fox, she comes each morning, but she goes sharp on the hour, you see, and what with serving lunch and taking Miss Mason something on a tray ... not that I grudge 'er that. I've just been telling 'er, she's a real ' elp to me.'

  Jemima kept her back towards the pair of them. It was a pity that she had got to the end of the silver and there was nothing left to wash up. Now to get away with dignity and preferably invisible too... Pooley came unwittingly to her aid, coming through the door with a laden tray.

  `There's my lady wanting you, miss.' Pooley sounded flustered. `Getting a bit put out!' Jemima whisked off the apron, dried her hands and pulled down her blouse sleeves with the speed of light. She was through the door and racing up the stairs before the Professor had time to do more than raise his eyebrows. She found Lady Manderly in the drawingroom, a little empurpled in the face, sitting very upright in an armchair, while Gloria lounged on one of the sofas. Jemima, coming to a quiet halt, nevertheless had time to inspect the quite perfect wool suit she was wearing; a delicate shade of blue, very impractical but definitely in the forefront of fashion, as was the blouse beneath it and the high-heeled Italian shoes. Jemima sighed inwardly and said in a calm voice: `You wanted me, Lady Manderly?"

  'Where have you been? My guests have been gone for ten minutes, you must have known I would want you for something or other. What have you been doing with yourself? Idling away my time and at my expense, no doubt!'

  Jemima didn't answer. She wondered what had happened to upset Lady Manderly, because she was undoubtedly in a nasty temper. There was no point in making excuses and she had no intention of telling her that she had been doing the lunch dishes, although she had already resolved to hint, with great tact, that someone might be employed to take over from Mrs Fox, especially with all the extra work involved. Perhaps if Lady Manderly could be inveigled into the kitchen when everyone was at their busiest...

  Lady Manderly was on the point of speaking when Gloria gave a shrill laugh. `Poor Jemima, did you forget the time? Don't be hard on her, Lady Manderly-it must be deadly boring eating meals off a tray by oneself.' She opened her blue eyes very wide. `Neither fish, flesh, fowl nor good red herring-that's you, isn't it, Jemima?'

  Jemima turned her head and looked at Gloria, her face impassive, her eyes sparkling with rage, but nicely controlled. `You are a very rude and ill-bred girl, Miss Egerton, but probably you don't know better.' She turned back to Lady Manderly, purple in the face again. `When your guests have gone, Lady Manderly, perhaps you'll ring for me.'

  She went without haste from the room, breathing rather hard, and bumped straight into Professor Cator, standing just outside the door.

  `Do I detect temper beneath that calm, Jemima?' he wanted to know blandly. `I admit that Gloria's description of your position here was hardly a tactful one, but she's very young and thoughtless.'

  Jemima steadied her breath and spoke with only the faintest tremor. `And you're middleaged, and thoughtless and rude into the bargain, Professor Cator. I'm heartily sick of the lot of you!'

  She flounced past him and up the stairs to her room where she had a short furious burst of tears, dried her eyes, made up her face and sat down to wait for Lady Manderly's summons.

  It came some ten minutes later, and she went downstairs to the drawing-room, to find Lady Manderly still sitting in her chair, her colour now, thank heaven, as normal as it ever would be. She wasn't alone; Professor Cator was standing with his back to the window, his hands in his pockets, with no expression on his face at all.

  `There you are, child,' declared Lady Manderly. `My nephew wishes to speak to you before he goes.'

  Jemima walked over to the window and stood in front of him. She could see the Rolls outside with Gloria sitting in the front seat, looking cross. She gave the Professor a coldly enquiring look and waited.

  `I can't of course speak for Gloria,' he said gravely, `but I do offer my sincere apologies for my rudeness and thoughtlessness, I cannot, alas, apologise for being middle-aged.'

  His voice was as grave as his face, but she had the strong suspicion that he was laughing. She said, still very polite: `Thank you, Professor Cator,' and closed her mouth firmly. She wasn't going to say that she was sorry for calling him rude and middle-aged; he was both, and he had admitted it, anyway. She glanced out of the window again and saw that Gloria was watching from the car. `As for Miss Egerton, her opinion of me is of no consequence whatever.'

  She stared at his tie, a nice rich silk one, and thought how priggish she sounded. He and Gloria would probably laugh themselves sick all the way back to Londo
n. He turned away without another word, kissed his aunt and went out of the room. She heard his voice in the hall and then the door shutting and a moment later the soft purr of the Rolls' engine. Wild horses wouldn't have made her look round.

  She was startled to hear Lady Manderly chuckle. `And that will give him something to think about!' she exclaimed with relish. `My nephew is quite unused to opposition of any kind-and you called him middle-aged!' She chuckled again.

  Jemima came from the window. `Yes, I'm sorry about that, because of course he's not, but I was angry. I'll apologise next time I see him.'

  'You'll do no such thing,' said her companion firmly. `He is by no means a conceited man, but he is used to praise of his work and the attentions of I don't know how many vapid young women. He may even find it refreshing.'

  Jemima thought this highly unlikely but she didn't say so. Instead she sat down to unpick some of Lady Manderly's tapestry work, which, as she frequently did, she had got all wrong.

  It was getting colder. Jemima, walking Coco later that afternoon, shivered a little as she took the familiar path by the river. She should have tied a scarf round her head and worn her winter coat. She walked very fast so that Coco had a job to keep up with her, and when she saw the little dog's heaving flanks, apologised. `It's only because I'm a bit cold,' she explained, but there was another reason too; she was getting away from the day's events-indeed, more than that, she admitted to herself, getting away from all her memories of her encounters with Professor Cator.

  `Horrible man!' she exclaimed loudly, and an old lady passing gave her a scared look and then glanced round just to make sure that there was no horrible man lurking among the bushes.

  But the Professor, while not actually lurking in person, certainly had taken firm possession of her thoughts and wouldn't be shaken off. Jemima marched back into the house, handed over Coco to Pooley to be rubbed down and fed, and plunged into the numerous tasks waiting for her. She was sitting at a small table by the widow, sorting the household bills ready for Lady Manderly's perusal, when that lady observed, `I shall be playing bridge tomorrow afternoon, so you may as well have your half day then, Jemima.' She put her lorgnette up to study the grocer's bill, which she considered

  excessive. `You could call in and have this account checked while you're out and make an appointment at the hairdresser's for me...'

  `I would like to go to Oxford,' said Jemima with placid firmness-a half day was a half day, after all, and they didn't come round all that often. 'By bus, you know.'

  Lady Manderly peered at her and dropped her lorgnette, which Jemima picked up and handed back. `A long journey, surely?"

  'About an hour and a half. If I could leave directly after lunch, I should be there in plenty of time to spend the afternoon with some friends.'

  Lady Manderly grunted and stretched out the hand for the coal bill. It was later that evening, as they sat at dinner, that she said suddenly: `I've changed my mind about tomorrow, Jemima. I shall not play bridge, I shall go to Welford-on-Avon and visit some old friends. I shall want you to drive me there. We will go after lunch and remain for tea. They will be delighted to see me. It will of course mean that you can't have your half day, but you may have an entire free day next week shall we say on Tuesday? That will give you a good deal more time to visit your friends in Oxford.'

  Lady Manderly spoke in the self-satisfied voice of someone doing a great favour, and Jemima didn't argue. She was getting quite fond of her employer in a way; she was a domineering and selfish and demanding character, but perhaps she knew no better.

  `That would be very nice, thank you. Welford is about four miles' drive, isn't it?'

  Lady Manderly looked surprised, and Jemima concluded that she had expected her to argue about the change of plans. She helped herself from the dish of caramel custard, one of Mrs Spencer's specialities, which Pooley was offering her. After all, a whole day in Oxford would be worth waiting for.

  Welford was charming, with the river curling on three sides of it and its long main street and village green with the maypole. Lady Manderly's friends lived in a pleasant old house at the end of the village, a sizeable Queen Anne gentleman's residence, with wrought iron railings encircling the neat grounds and pristine paintwork. Jemima, under orders from Lady Manderly, got out and pulled on the iron bell pull by the door and when it was opened up by a very old man, told him who they were, feeling rather foolish about it. But the old man's face lit up at once and he hurried to the car to help Lady Manderly from it and lead the way into the hall. Here he left them, saying that he would tell the mistress at once, and Jemima, taking advantage of the moment to themselves, asked: `Shall I come back for you, Lady Manderly-if you'd tell me what time... ?"

  'Certainly not. You will remain with me, Jemima.' She had no time to say more, because a door had opened and a very tall thin lady was bearing down upon them. `My dear Flo !' she exclaimed in a rather piercing voice, `what a delightful surprise-come in at once . Blake, take Lady Manderly's coat.' She looked at Jemima and Lady Manderly said: `This is my companion, Jemima Mason. Mrs Walters, Jemima, a very old friend of mine from schooldays.'

  Jemima said how do you do in her pleasant voice and followed the two ladies into a large drawing-room, occupied by an old gentleman, two cats sitting side by side before a blazing fire, and a Jack Russell terrier sitting at the old man's knee.

  The old man didn't get up and she saw that there were two sticks propped against his chair, but he held out both hands to Lady Manderly, who took them in hers, exclaiming: `John, you haven't changed at all-it must be quite a year since we saw each other last.'

  `And you're more handsome than ever,' he assured her. `And who's the nice little thing with you?"

  'My companion, Jemima Mason...'

  `Not a bit like the last one,' declared the old gentleman, and put on his glasses in order to examine Jemima better. `Looks a lady too.'

  Jemima found Mrs Walters beside her. `Don't be vexed, my dear-my husband has always said exactly what he thinks, and it's sometimes a little embarrassing.' She took her arm. `Come and meet him-he likes a new face.'

  Driving back later, Jemima had to admit that she had enjoyed her afternoon. For one thing, it was nice to be accepted without any snide remarks, and it was nice to have it taken for granted that she would have tea with everyone else and not on the inevitable tray in another room. She only wished that Lady Manderly would be struck by the same idea.

  That was too much to expect. For the next two days she lunched in the library off trays brought to her by the new daily help who had miraculously joined the household two days earlier, while Lady Manderly entertained her friends in the dining-room. It was a relief that the next day was Sunday and she would be away almost all day visiting a distant relation in the town. All Jemima would have to do was drive her there, and collect her again when she was told to. She was, of course, given several jobs to do while her employer was away and there was Coco to take for a walk, but she went down to the kitchen to have her lunch, and being the kind of person to get on with everyone, she enjoyed every minute of it. When she had gone back upstairs, Mrs Spencer and Pooley, for once seeing eye to eye, agreed that she was ever such a nice young lady; no airs and graces either. `Not like some I could mention,' said Mrs Spencer darkly. `I wouldn't work for ' er-not for all the tea in China I wouldn't. I'm right sorry for the Professor-if 'e's not careful, 'e's going to make a fine old rod for his own back.'

  The two ladies, the hatchet buried for the moment, settled down to a pleasant gossip.

  Jemima, her chores done, settled downn to write letters-a long one to Dick, and a shorter one to Shirley and Mrs Adams. And that done, she put on her coat and took Coco for another walk, only a short one this time, though, because Lady Manderly might ring for her to go along and collect her. Round about teatime, she had said; Jemima hoped devoutly that she would be able to have her tea first. A hope fulfilled, with half an hour to spare.

  On Tuesday it poured with rain, but Je
mima had no intention of that spoiling her day. She put her week's pay into her shoulder bag, got into the sensible shoes, and suitably although not fashionably dressed, tapped on Lady Manderly's bedroom door. Pooley answered, opening the door a crack as though there was a tremendous secret she was guarding with her life.

  `Morning,' said Jemima cheerfully. `Please will you tell Lady Manderly that I've just gone and I'll be back about nine o'clock this evening.'

  Pooley nodded. `Yes, miss,' and then in a whisper: 'There'll be some soup in the kitchen if you're hungry.'

  Jemima grinned her thanks. `I won't wait,' she said softly, `I want to get the bus.'

  She sped away, bent on getting out of the house before Lady Manderly had one of her changes of mind and demanded her attendance.

  The bus was only half full. She had a seat to herself and sat watching the familiar countryside, and once in Oxford itself, she wasted no time but started to walk along familiar streets, pausing at each well-remembered spot; the Radcliffe Camera, Christ Church Tower, Balliol, Brasenose, Oriel-she visited them and many more until she realised suddenly that she was quite famished. She knew most of the cafes and restaurants in the city, and she went to a small Italian restaurant in Magdalen Street, to find to her delight that the proprietor remembered her and her brother. He served her himself with a risotto made to his own secret recipe, following it with a spectacular ice cream and a pot of coffee which he shared with her. It was like old times, and just for a little while she was completely happy. Only when she was out in the street again some of the happiness ebbed away, but she caught the tail end of it, told herself not to wallow in self