A Christmas Wish Page 9

  Olivia, detailed to collect the children as they arrived, was confronted by a tearful Nel. ‘Mummy didn’t come and Uncle Haso sent me a postcard with a lot of blue sky and mountains on it. I expect they forgot…’ Her small lip trembled and Lady Brennon said quickly, ‘I’m sure they wouldn’t forget, darling. Perhaps there wasn’t a seat for them on the plane—perhaps they’ll come as soon as they can. It’s holiday-time, and everyone wants to travel…’

  ‘The planes get so full,’ added Olivia, anxious to avert tears.

  Nel gave her the clear look that only a child could give. ‘Uncle Haso has his own plane,’ she said.

  Olivia and Lady Brennon exchanged glances. ‘Well, in that case,’ said Olivia briskly, ‘he may even now be on his way here. Will you say goodbye to your granny, poppet? Then I’ll take you up to your dormitory—most of your best friends are in it this term.’

  Nel brightened a little. ‘Oh, good, and may I come and see you, Granny, at half-term?’

  ‘Of course, my pet, but I’ll be over before then to watch your sports day.’

  It wasn’t until Olivia was in bed that night that she had the leisure to think her own thoughts. The day had been busy—the children’s trunks to unpack, tuck to be labelled and put away, the homesick to be comforted, mislaid things to be found. She was glad that she had been too busy to think, she reflected, curled up in her bed at last. Now, tired though she was, she had to go over every word Nel and Lady Brennon had uttered about Mr van der Eisler. It was only too apparent that he was with Rita. And why should that upset her, she asked herself angrily, when she had made up her mind to forget him, never think of him again? What business was it of hers if he was to marry Rita? It would be a good thing for Nel’s sake; the child was fond of him, more so than she was of her mother. The only real security she had was with her grandmother…

  Olivia nodded off.

  She woke in the night and had a nice comforting weep, and felt better for it. She couldn’t change the way things were so she had better accept them with a good grace and make the best of what she had—a job, a frail security, and a roof over her head. Who knew? She might, any day now, meet some man who would want to marry her. But would she want to marry him?

  School routine took over once more. The days followed each other with ordered speed; they got chillier too, and as the evenings darkened she had the task of overseeing the smaller children’s leisure before their bedtime. There was a good deal of activity in the gym too, where those who were taking part practised for sports day. Olivia, Jill of all trades and master of none, played the piano for the rhythmic exercises, untangled the formation gymnastics when they got too involved, and soothed bruises and bumps.

  It had turned quite cold by now and half-term would follow on after sports day. Her mother was coming to spend two weeks with her and since she would be free for the first week she had planned a trip to Bath—they would lunch out and have tea in the Assembly Rooms and, since she had had no reason to spend much money, they might do a little shopping. Christmas was still some way off and she dreaded spending it with her grandmother, but perhaps she and her mother would be able to spend a day out somewhere.

  Parents were to arrive directly after lunch and, after the various displays, be given tea before going home again. The morning was spent on last-minute preparations and the solving of small crises as they occurred, but by one o’clock the whole school was ready—the rows of chairs in place, the trestle tables in the assembly hall covered with white cloths and piled with cups and saucers and plates.

  ‘You will help with the tea,’ said Miss Cross, pausing by Olivia as she counted sugar bowls, ‘and do whatever Miss Ross wants, and be prepared to give Matron a hand if there are any mishaps.’

  She went on her way and Olivia started counting the sugar bowls once more.

  The children were permitted to greet their parents when they arrived so that the hall was packed with excited little girls all talking at once. Olivia, having counted heads and found them correct, took herself off to the pantry to make sure that everything was as ready as possible for tea. The occasion must go off smoothly, Miss Cross had said. As soon as the last item was over the parents would be ushered into the assembly hall and the tea-urns, plates of sandwiches and cakes were to be ready and waiting for them.

  The tide of parents ebbed and flowed, and almost at the last moment Mr van der Eisler’s car drew up before the entrance. Nel, lingering in the hall almost in tears, rushed to meet him as he got out, opened the door to help Lady Brennon out and then bent to swing her in the air.

  ‘You came, you came!’ cried Nel. ‘And Granny too. Olivia said you would.’ She looked around her. ‘I suppose Mummy’s working…’

  ‘Yes, love, she is. Will we do instead? We’re looking forward to seeing you do whatever it is…’

  Nel laughed and hugged her grandmother. ‘I’m in a gym display.’ She looked suddenly anxious. ‘It’s almost time to start.’

  ‘Then let us go at once and sit down,’ said Lady Brennon. ‘Where is your nice Olivia?’

  ‘She’s got to see to the tea as well as us. I expect she’s in one of the pantries.’ She caught them both by the hand. ‘Come along—you will watch me, won’t you?’

  ‘I shan’t take my eyes off you,’ promised Mr van der Eisler.

  They found seats at the end of a row, halfway towards the back of the hall and, since there were still some ten minutes before the first event was to take place, he settled Lady Brennon in her seat and got up. ‘I’ll be back,’ he assured her, and disappeared through the nearby door.

  In the hall he encountered the porter, enquired where the pantries might be, and with a brisk nod set off to find them.

  Olivia, spooning tea into bowls ready for the urns, turned round to his quiet, ‘Hello, Olivia.’

  She felt the colour leave her cheeks and then rush back in a bright surge. She wished with all her heart that she could say something amusing and casual but all she managed was a breathless ‘Oh,’ and then added peevishly, ‘You startled me.’ She put the bowl down with a shaking hand. ‘Shouldn’t you be in the gym? I am glad you came.’ She frowned in case she gave him the wrong impression. ‘What I mean is that I’m glad you came for Nel’s sake. She was so afraid no one would turn up. Is—are her grandmother and mother here too? I do hope so. She’s in a rhythmic gym display, you know.’ She paused for breath, aware that she was babbling.

  He came into the pantry. ‘And are you glad to see me again, Olivia?’

  ‘Glad? Why should I be glad? I hadn’t thought about it. You must go.’

  He took no notice at all. ‘I was sorry I wasn’t in England to give you a lift back at the beginning of term.’

  ‘There is an excellent train service,’ she told him frostily. ‘Nel told me that you were abroad.’

  ‘Ah, yes, I sent her a postcard.’

  ‘I hope you had a pleasant holiday…’

  He smiled. ‘Holiday? Ah, yes, of course. It seems a long time ago. Are you coming to watch this entertainment?’

  ‘Of course not. I shall be helping behind the scenes and then giving a hand with the teas.’ She picked up the bowl again for something to do. ‘I hope you enjoy the display; please remember me to Lady Brennon. Goodbye, Mr van der Eisler.’ He took his dismissal with a good grace, although he didn’t return her goodbye.

  As he slipped into his seat beside Lady Brennon, a few moments before the first item on the programme, she whispered, ‘Did you find her?’

  ‘Yes, but I fancy I’ve lost her again for the moment, although I’m not sure why.’ He turned his attention to the first of the gym displays.

  The afternoon went well—the gymnasts were faultless and the younger ones performed with aplomb, knowing that their mothers and fathers were sitting there admiring their efforts. Miss Cross brought the afternoon to a close with a suitable speech and everyone surged out, bent on getting a cup of tea.

  Olivia, entrenched behind an urn, did her best not to look
at Mr van der Eisler, poised precariously on a small wooden chair, bowing his vast person to listen to Nel’s happy chatter. Her best wasn’t good enough; Matron’s tart voice brought her back to reality.

  ‘Olivia? Do you not hear what I say? Sophie Greenslade feels sick. Get her upstairs before she is, and stay with her until I come with her mother. We don’t want a fuss…’

  With one last lingering glance at Mr van der Eisler, Olivia led the unhappy Sophie up to her dormitory, held the bowl, cleaned the little girl up and tucked her under a blanket on her bed, looking pale but smelling sweet, so that by the time Matron and Mrs Greenslade arrived Matron was able to reassure the anxious mother that little Sophie wasn’t suffering from some serious illness.

  ‘Thank you, Olivia, you may go,’ said Matron graciously.

  Olivia went, as fast as her long legs could carry her. She reached the hall in time to see Lady Brennon, with Mr van der Eisler looming beside her, disappearing through the entrance.

  She stood there, filled with bitter disappointment; never mind that she had decided to forget him, one more glimpse would have been nice before she began that difficult task. She looked with longing at his massive shoulders disappearing through the door. This really was the very last time she would see him…

  He turned his head and saw her and came back to stand before her. ‘Were you hiding?’ he asked without preamble.

  ‘Me? No. Sophie was being sick!’

  ‘Ah.’ He smiled at her and her heart turned over. ‘We shall meet again,’ he told her, and went away again.

  A remark which made nonsense of her good resolutions, although during the course of a wakeful night she kept to her decision not to see him again. ‘Not even to think of him,’ she told herself. ‘He was just being kind.’

  He had said that they would meet again. Did he mean that he would be coming to fetch Nel at the end of term? If so, she would take care not to be anywhere near him. If necessary, she would feel ill and be excused from her duties. A headache or, better still, a sprained ankle. On this ridiculous thought she fell into a restless doze, to wake the next morning heavy-eyed and pale, so that Matron asked her sharply if she was feeling poorly.

  ‘It will be most inconvenient if you are,’ said that lady, ‘I shall want you to help me with hair-washing this evening.’

  So Olivia washed one small head after the other, an occupation which allowed her to dream a great deal of nonsense. Even though it was nonsense it was comforting imagining what life would be like if Mr van der Eisler were to fall in love with her. She might not be going to see him again but there was no harm in a little daydreaming.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MRS HARDING came the next day and as the school was empty, save for the cook, the porter and the two daily maids, Olivia and her mother had the pleasant illusion that the whole place was theirs. It was cold but fine weather and they took advantage of the peace and quiet to go for long walks, finding a village pub for lunch and getting back to the annexe in time to cook their supper and spent the evening together catching up on gossip. It was apparent to Olivia that her mother wasn’t happy at Sylvester Crescent. She had few friends there, indeed, mere acquaintances, who came to play bridge and rarely asked her back to their homes. Mrs Fitzgibbon was demanding too, so that Mrs Harding felt restricted. It was no good telling her to assert herself, thought Olivia, for her mother was a gentle soul, always determined to expect the best from everyone. Next year, thought Olivia, we’ll make a home here. Mother can come back with me when term starts—at least she will be free to do what she likes with her days.

  They sat making their plans, doing sums on scraps of paper, discussing the small things they would buy in order to make the little place like home, and Olivia, despite her secret heartache, was glad to see her mother so happy.

  They went to Bath on the last day of the half-term, looking at the shops and having a splendid lunch before visiting the Abbey and then treating themselves to tea. It was a pity that once the school started again Olivia wouldn’t be free for more than an hour or so each day, but Mrs Harding declared herself quite happy to potter around on her own. Indeed, she looked so much better that Olivia persuaded her to stay for another week and took it upon herself to phone her grandmother and tell her.

  Mrs Fitzgibbon, naturally enough, was annoyed, complaining that she was unable to manage without her daughter’s help.

  ‘Doesn’t that nice woman—Mrs Lark—come in each day and cook and clean?’ asked Olivia.

  ‘Well, of course she does,’ snapped her grandmother. ‘You really don’t suppose that I would wish to do those things myself, do you?’

  ‘No, Granny. So you’re being well looked-after. Good. Mother’s very happy here and it’s doing her good—she never liked London, you know.’

  ‘You are an impertinent girl.’

  Olivia said, ‘Yes, Granny,’ and then rang off.

  School began again and now there was excitement in the air. Christmas was near enough for the all-important question of presents to be the main topic and there would be the school play at the end of term and a concert by those who were learning some musical instrument or other.

  There were the new pupils too, nicely settled in by now but still ignorant of the festivities ahead and anxious to join in everything.

  Olivia, not a skilled needlewoman, none the less sewed pantomime costumes and, under the guidance of the art mistress, painted scenery, and when there was no one else available she heard the various parts. There were a great many, for the parents would have been upset if their own particular small daughter had had no part. Those who were hopeless at learning their lines were taught a dance. It had nothing to do with the plot, but what did that matter as long as every child took part?

  Nel was one of the Christmas fairies and had a speaking part—well, she had to say, ‘And here is Father Christmas’ before waving her wand and rejoining the other fairies.

  ‘Mummy will be proud of me,’ she assured Olivia. ‘She’s coming to see me—she promised.’

  She sounded so doubtful that Olivia hastened to reassure her.

  ‘You’re certain?’ asked Nel as Olivia, on dormitory duty, went round tucking the children up for the night. Matron didn’t approve of the tucking-up, but Olivia, remembering how cosy it had been to be tucked in at bedtime, took no notice of that.

  ‘If your Mummy promised, then she’ll come,’ said Olivia firmly. ‘Now go to sleep like a good girl.’

  ‘All right. Olivia…?’

  She turned back. ‘Yes, dear?’

  ‘I’m going to Holland for the holidays. I hope I’ll like it. Mummy has a lot of friends and I don’t like the lady who looks after me when she’s away.’

  ‘Perhaps it will be another lady this time.’

  ‘I do hope so. I wish you were coming too. We could explore together. Where would you like to go most in Amsterdam?’

  ‘Look, love, you must settle down.’ And then, seeing that the child waited for an answer, she said, ‘Oh, a seat opposite that big picture in the Rijksmuseum so that I could look at it really properly.’ She dropped a kiss on the small forehead. ‘Goodnight.’

  The end of term prize-giving and the play were to be in the very early afternoon, and this time there was to be no lunch, only coffee and sherry beforehand, and tea afterwards while the children got ready to leave with their parents. Olivia, doing two things at once and at everyone’s beck and call, longed for the day to be over. She wouldn’t be leaving until the following day and she wasn’t really looking forward to another Christmas at her grandmother’s flat but she had the New Year to look forward to, and a good deal of the holiday would be taken up with getting her mother organised to come back with her. Obedient to Miss Ross’s urgent voice, she began attaching the wings to the fairies’ small shoulders.

  It was a cold and gloomy day and the parents crowded in, intent on coffee and drinks before finding seats in the assembly hall. Olivia, counting fairy heads, found one missing. Nel—perhaps her m
other had taken her aside for a moment. Olivia darted away, intent on getting her into her right place before the curtain went up.

  Nel was in the hall and Mr van der Eisler was crouching beside her, holding her close in his great arms, crumpling her wings while she sobbed into his shoulder.

  ‘She hasn’t come?’ hissed Olivia, in a whisper. ‘Why didn’t you make her? How could you let her not come? You knew that Nel…’

  Nel gave a great sniff and paused in her sobs. ‘She hasn’t come—promised me, she promised me—you heard her, Uncle Haso. I won’t go to Holland…’

  He took out a very large white handkerchief and wiped her face. ‘Must I go back all alone? I was counting on your company.’

  She peered up at him. ‘Would you be lonely without me?’

  ‘I certainly would. Look, Olivia’s here. I expect she wants you to join the other fairies.’

  Olivia spoke. ‘Nel has a speaking part; she’s very important to the story.’

  ‘Then she must do her best. What is it they say? “The show must go on”. Actresses with broken hearts always forget their sorrow and act brilliantly, don’t they, Olivia?’

  ‘Always.’ She didn’t look at him but bore Nel away, just in time to join the rest of the troupe before the curtain was jerked open with a certain amount of inexpertise.

  The play was loudly applauded, Nel said her line without mishap, and everyone dispersed for tea and biscuits while the children changed back into their school clothes, anxious to be gone now that they had collected their prizes. All the same it took some time to get the chattering, excited children ready and sent down to where their parents were waiting. Olivia, rounding up the last of them, was accosted by a parent.

  ‘A most enjoyable afternoon.’ She was a pleasant little lady with a kind face. ‘You must be tired and you are so good with the children. I’m sure we shall all be sorry to see you go, but I suppose if the Board of Governors want someone with qualifications there is no choice.’ She held out her hand. ‘Anyway, I do wish you the best of luck. I’m sure Miss Cross will be very sorry to lose you.’