A Winter Love Story Read online

  ‘You mean a dress and coat, and things like that?’ asked Claudia. ‘How much may I spend?’

  ‘One dress will hardly do. Buy several—and certainly a winter coat and anything else you like. Don’t look at the price tags, Claudia.’ He smiled at her. ‘Buy all you need for the next few weeks. We shall be going out a good deal, I have no doubt...’

  ‘Dinner dresses,’ breathed Claudia, and her eyes sparkled.

  ‘Certainly, and a couple of dresses for dancing—the hospital ball and so on. And something tweedy for the lakes. I shall take you walking.’

  ‘You don’t mind waiting here?’

  ‘Not in the least. Come and show me what you buy from time to time, if you like.’

  So Claudia, guided by a majestic saleslady in black crêpe, went shopping in earnest. She had had nothing new for some time, and her present wardrobe was sparse in the extreme, but that didn’t prevent her from knowing exactly what she needed to buy.

  A beautifully tailored winter coat in dark green, a tweed skirt with a matching soft leather jacket, a twinset in cashmere, peat-brown, a jersey dress in soft blue and another in dove-grey, and, at the saleslady’s suggestion, a handful of silk blouses and another cardigan. She had shown most of these to a patient Mr Tait-Bullen, then gone with him to the restaurant for a cup of coffee before embarking on the choosing of a crêpe dress in old gold, and another in a green patterned silk jersey. She would have bought a little black dress, but when she mentioned her intention to Thomas he begged her not to. ‘They’re not for you,’ he told her. ‘Get something with a waist and a wide skirt.’

  Which wasn’t much to go by. Anxious to please him, she spent some time looking for such a garment, and found it at last. Blue again—a smoky blue—with long sleeves and a modest neckline, and a tucked bodice cinched in at the waist by an embroidered belt, the skirt was several layers of chiffon, and it showed off her splendid figure. She paraded before him in it and saw that he approved.

  ‘Would you like me to stop now?’ she asked him.

  ‘No. No. Let us by all means get the basics. What else do you need?’

  ‘Well, evening dresses. I won’t be long...’

  She knew what suited her and she didn’t dither, although there was a magnificent black taffeta she longed to own... She chose instead a russet taffeta with a tucked bodice, shoestring shoulder straps and a wide skirt which rustled delightfully as she walked. And a honey-coloured crêpe, very simple in cut.

  ‘I’ve bought masses of clothes,’ she told Thomas finally. ‘I do hope...’

  ‘We’ll have lunch, and, if you haven’t made me bankrupt, we will go to Harvey Nichols.’

  ‘But I’ve bought masses of stuff.’

  ‘Undies, dressing gowns, shoes, boots, a Burberry—a hat for church on Christmas Day?’

  She stared up at him with wide eyes. ‘You think of everything.’

  ‘No, my dear, but you forget I have sisters, and I have from time to time accompanied them on shopping expeditions.’

  ‘Oh, well, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘No, I don’t mind,’ said Mr Tait-Bullen, and thought how very pretty she looked.

  They lunched at Harvey Nichols, in the basement bar-restaurant because Claudia declared that she was too full of excitement to eat much. All the same, gently urged on by Thomas, she managed grilled salmon and a salad, and apple tart, and, thus fortified, spent the next hour or so adding to her wardrobe. Having approved of the Burberry, boots and shoes, Thomas left her in the undies department.

  ‘I’ll look around for presents for the family,’ he told her, ‘on the ground floor.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘An hour? I’ll be waiting by the main entrance.’ He smiled down at her happy face. ‘Don’t hurry.’

  She lost herself in the delights of the lingerie department, but she remembered that he had said an hour. Laden with carrier bags, she went punctually to the ground floor and found him waiting.

  He looked at the bags. ‘They can be delivered with the other things,’ he suggested.

  She shook her head. ‘I can’t bear to part with them,’ she told him seriously. ‘You have no idea how lovely...’

  ‘Shall we go home for tea?’ he asked in a matter-of-fact way, which stopped her short.

  They had their tea, and then an hour or so sitting together talking about nothing in particular. There would be more Christmas presents to buy, he warned her. And would she like to go to Little Planting before Christmas?

  ‘I can spare a Sunday, if you would like that. And don’t forget the hospital ball next week. You will be bound to get any number of invitations for us both from the people we meet there. I rely on you to deal with them. There is a certain amount of hospital social life, and you will probably be roped in for some charity or other. Don’t take on too much...’

  They were halfway through dinner when he was called away. He went quickly, warning her that he might be late back.

  As he went he dropped a kiss on her cheek. ‘I enjoyed our day together,’ he told her.

  ‘Me, too. Only I’ve spent an awful lot of your money.’

  ‘Our money,’ he said quietly. ‘It was a great pleasure.’

  She sat in the drawing room that evening, leafing through magazines, thinking about her delightful day. Thomas had been a splendid companion, too. Patient, and interested in what she had bought. Of course, she quite understood that as the wife of a well-known cardiologist she needed to be well turned out—he wouldn’t want her to meet any of his friends and colleagues wearing the shabby tweeds and woollies she had always worn at Little Planting.

  She got up and took a look at herself in the Georgian giltwood mirror. Perhaps she should have her hair cut and styled? Go to a beauty parlour and learn how to apply make-up? She tended to forget anything but lipstick; there had seemed no point in it when she lived with Great-Uncle William. On the sparse occasions when she’d gone out to dinner she had dashed powder over her nose, added lipstick and done her best with her hands, so often grubby from gardening. She would remedy this, she promised herself, so that Thomas need never feel ashamed of her.

  The longcase clock in the hall had struck eleven, and he still wasn’t back. She went to the kitchen and found Cork sitting there, reading the evening paper.

  She said quickly, ‘No, no. Don’t get up, Cork. I think I’ll go to bed. Do you wait up or does the Professor let himself in? And does he need anything? A drink? Or sandwiches?’

  ‘I wait up, madam. There is coffee, and there are sandwiches if he should require them. I’m sure he would wish you to take your normal rest.’

  ‘Yes, well...I’ll go to bed, then. Thank you, Cork.’

  ‘Thank you, madam, and goodnight.’

  He held the door for her and didn’t return her smile. She went up to her room, still not sure if he approved of her or not. She must have been a surprise to him, and doubtless he wondered if she was going to interfere. She didn’t intend to; perhaps she’d do the flowers, discuss the food with him, and then later on, when he had accepted her, he might allow her into the kitchen.

  Thomas was already at breakfast when she went down in the morning. He looked as he always did, immaculate in his sober grey suit and silk tie, but there were lines in his face...

  She wished him good morning. ‘When did you get home?’ she asked.

  ‘Round about one o’clock. I didn’t disturb you?’

  ‘No, no. Do you often get called out? I thought specialists and consultants could more or less please themselves.’

  Mr Tait-Bullen looked surprised. ‘We’re just the same as any other medical man. We go when and where we’re needed.’

  ‘And you are going to the hospital this morning?’

  ‘No, first to one of the private hospitals. I operated there a couple of days ago, and I must visit my patient t
here first. Then to the hospital, and a clinic after lunch, and then private patients at my consulting rooms.’

  ‘Will you come home for lunch?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. I may be back in time for tea, though.’ He glanced at her. ‘You’ll be all right?’

  ‘Yes...’

  ‘I should have warned you that I’m away a good deal.’

  He left the house presently, and, since Cork informed her that it was Mrs Rumbold’s day for turning out the drawing room, she guessed quite rightly that they would like her out of the house.

  ‘I thought I’d explore a bit,’ she told him. ‘Hyde Park and perhaps Kensington Gardens...’

  ‘A pleasant walk, madam. Lunch at one o’clock?’

  ‘Yes, please. Something on a tray will do.’

  She had put on the tweed skirt and one of the silk shirts, and, since it was drizzling with a chilly wind, she donned the Burberry and the boots. The Burberry had a little matching hat, which she crammed onto her hair with no regard to her appearance, so that copper strands escaped. She took her new shoulder bag, her expensive leather gloves, bade Cork goodbye and left the house.

  There weren’t many people about as she made her way to Marble Arch. Cork, that paragon of servants, had thoughtfully provided her with a small street map, and it wasn’t until she reached Marble Arch that there was much traffic and the first sight of Christmas shoppers.

  She crossed the road into the park, following the Serpentine, enjoying the quiet emptiness, for there was scarcely anyone else to be seen. She was halfway to Rennie’s Bridge, which would lead her to Kensington Gardens, when she saw a very small dog sitting under the bushes some yards from the path. He didn’t bark, nor did he take any notice of her, and she walked on, supposing that its owner was somewhere nearby. But an hour later, as she came back the same way, he was still there.

  There was no one in sight; she crossed the grass and bent down to take a closer look.

  It was a very small dog indeed—a puppy, pitifully thin and shivering with cold. It made no sound as Claudia touched his matted coat with a gentle hand; it only looked at her with terrified eyes, cringing away from her. He was tied by a thin rope to a thicket behind him, and she could see that the rope was tight around his throat. If he’d tried to run away he would have choked.

  She opened her bag, found the small folded scissors she always carried with her and began to saw through the rope. It took time, but the puppy didn’t move, and when at last he was free she scooped him up and tucked him into the front of her Burberry, where he shivered and shook but made no effort to escape.

  ‘You poor little scrap,’ said Claudia. ‘You’re coming home with me, and I’ll make sure that you’re never frightened nor hungry again.’

  It was only as she reached the house that she wondered what Thomas would say—or Cork!

  He had seen her coming along the street and had the door open before she had a chance to get out her key.

  She didn’t beat about the bush. ‘Cork, I found this tiny dog tied to a tree in Hyde Park. He’s starving and cold...’

  Cork peered at the small creature. ‘The Professor has said on various occasions that he intended to get a dog, madam. Perhaps a box with an old blanket by the Aga?’

  ‘Oh, Cork, may he stay just until he’s warm? And I thought a little warm milk... I’ll have him as soon as I’ve got my things off.’

  ‘If I might suggest, madam, you allow him to rest quietly for a period while you have lunch. By then we shall be able to see if he is recovering.’

  So the puppy was settled in a cardboard box and covered warmly, and Claudia fed him with warm milk. Although he cringed still, he looked less terrified.

  He was asleep when she went to fetch him after lunch.

  ‘Thank you for having him in the kitchen, Cork, I won’t let him bother you.’

  ‘I have no doubt that when he is feeling more himself he will be a nice little dog. I’m partial to dogs, madam.’

  Claudia beamed at him. ‘Oh, are you, Cork? So am I.’

  She took the little beast with her to the sitting room beside Thomas’s study—a charming little room, where she chose to sit and have her meals when Thomas was away from home—and he fell asleep by the warmth of the fire, twitching and whimpering in his sleep. And when Cork brought her tea tray he handed her a small jug. ‘Egg and milk, madam,’ he explained. ‘Perhaps a few spoonfuls from time to time...’

  They inspected the sleeping puppy and decided that he looked a little better.

  ‘As soon as I dare, I’ll clean him up a bit,’ said Claudia. ‘He’s stopped shivering...’

  She went to her room presently, and changed her blouse and skirt for one of the jersey dresses, not bothering overmuch about her face and hair. She was feeding the puppy, kneeling by the box, rather untidy about the head, when Thomas came quietly to join her.

  She scrambled to her feet when she saw him. ‘Thomas, I’m so glad you’re home. Come and see what I found this morning...’ She paused while Cork placed a tea tray on the rent table by the easy chair where Mr Tait-Bullen often sat. ‘I’ll pour your tea. Have you had a busy day?’

  He could see that for the moment his day would have to take second place to whatever it was in the box which had given her eyes such a sparkle and her cheeks such a fine colour.

  ‘And what did you find?’ He went over to the box and got down on his hunkers to take a better look.

  ‘Cork says you always wanted a dog...’

  Mr Tait-Bullen choked back a laugh. ‘Oh, indeed I have.’ He put a gentle finger on the skinny little body. ‘Lost? Starved? Probably ill-treated. Where did you find him?’

  ‘Sit down and drink your tea and I’ll tell you. Then you can examine him, can’t you?’

  He drank his tea and ate the toast she offered him, and listened without interrupting. ‘And Cork has been marvellous. I thought he would mind—I mean, a grubby little dog in this lovely house—’

  ‘Our house,’ he interrupted her gently.

  ‘Well, of course it is, but you know what I mean, don’t you? Please may we keep him? I don’t know what kind of a dog he is, but I dare say he’ll be handsome when he’s older.’

  Mr Tait-Bullen studied the puppy thoughtfully. ‘There is always that possibility,’ he agreed. ‘Let’s have a look at him.’

  Claudia was surprised to see that the puppy accepted Thomas’s gentle hands feeling his poor, bony frame, with no more than the whisper of a whine.

  ‘Starved and kicked around, but I can’t feel any broken bones. I’m on nodding terms with the local vet. I’ll get him to come round and take a look.’

  ‘May we keep him? You don’t mind?’

  ‘No, I don’t mind. Cork was right. I have often said that I would like a dog.’ He didn’t add that the dog he had had in mind was a thoroughbred Labrador.

  They dined presently, and tended to the puppy’s needs, and later that evening the vet came. He was a youngish, thickset man, with a great deal of black hair and a face one could trust.

  ‘Thomas, what’s all this about a dog? Where did you get it?’

  ‘Come and meet my wife. It was she who found the creature.’

  The two men crossed the hall to the sitting room, where Claudia had gone to feed the puppy.

  The vet shook hands. He had heard about Tait-Bullen’s unexpected marriage, and, glancing at Claudia, he considered him to be a lucky fellow. Beautiful and charming—nice voice, too.

  He said out loud, ‘I must get Alice—my wife—to call on you. Now, where’s this dog?’

  He took his time going over the puppy’s small frame. ‘No bones broken. Several swellings, though—he’s been kicked. And just look at these paws—he’s been tied up somewhere and tried to escape. Poor little beast.’

 
‘Any idea what breed?’ said Mr Tait-Bullen.

  ‘Take your pick. He’ll never be a large dog, nor perhaps a handsome one, but I guarantee he’ll be a faithful companion to you both. I’ll give him a couple of jabs while I’m here. As to food and exercise...’

  He outlined suitable treatment. ‘And a run in the garden is all he’ll need for several weeks—that and frequent small meals.’ He looked at Claudia. ‘You will be busy, Mrs Tait-Bullen.’

  ‘I’ve time enough to look after him, and I shall enjoy it. You’ll have a cup of coffee?’

  He stayed for a while, idly chatting, and presently Thomas went with him to the door. ‘You’ve a charming wife, Thomas. You must come to dinner one evening.’

  ‘We’ll be delighted.’

  He went back to the sitting room, where Claudia was kneeling by the puppy’s box. She looked up as he went in. ‘Thomas, thank you. Perhaps he’s not the kind of dog you wanted, but he’ll be such fun to have.’

  Mr Tait-Bullen contemplated the skinny creature, sitting up now and no longer cowering, knowing that he was among friends. Under the dirt and mud his coat was black. His ears were far too large for his small foxy face, and he had a long, thin tail of which any rat would have been proud.

  ‘I have no doubt that he will grow into the most unusual type,’ he observed gravely.

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ said Claudia happily. ‘I like the vet. Are all your friends as nice?’

  ‘I hope you will think so. You will meet a good many of them at the ball.’ He went to sit in his chair, stretching his long legs to the fire. ‘I’m sure you have a grand gown to wear among your purchases, or would you like to look for something else?’

  ‘I have a gown. It’s not grand, but I think it’s suitable for your wife, if you see what I mean?’

  ‘I trust your judgement, Claudia. You have excellent taste.’

  Claudia went to bed with the pleasant feeling that it had been a happy day; they got on so well together, she reflected, and there was so much to talk about, so much that they intended to do together. Every day, she was discovering, she was finding out something else about Thomas that she liked; she hoped that he felt the same about her. She curled up and closed her eyes. Tomorrow was another day; she wondered what it would bring.