to explore the hunebedden in Drenthe and the terps in Friesland; so clever of those primitive people to build their villages on mounds of earth. Your father and I must find the time to visit them. I’m sure something can be arranged; he knows several people at Groningen University.’
Araminta poured second cups and passed the cake. ‘You will be home for Christmas?’
‘Yes, yes, of course we shall. We are going to Southern Ireland next week, for your father has been invited to give a short lecture tour and there are several places I wish to see—verifying facts before we revise the book. It will be published next year, I hope…’
‘I get almost three weeks’ holiday,’ said Araminta.
Her mother said vaguely, ‘Oh, that’s nice, dear. You’ll come home, of course?’
‘Yes.’ Araminta looked at her cousin. ‘I could take over for a week or so if you wanted to go away.’
An offer which was accepted without hesitation.
Back at school, activities became feverish; the play was to be presented to an audience of parents who could get there, friends who lived locally and the school staff. So costumes had to have last-minute fittings, boys who suddenly lost their nerve had to be encouraged, the school hall had to be suitably decorated, and refreshments dealt with. Everyone was busy and Araminta told herself each night when she went to bed that with no leisure to brood she would soon forget Marcus; he would become a dim figure in her past.
She shut her eyes, willed herself to sleep and there he was, his face behind her lids, every well-remembered line of it; the tiny crow’s feet round his eyes when he smiled, the little frown mark where he perched his spectacles, the haughty nose, the thin, firm mouth, the lines when he was tired…
It will take time, thought Araminta, shaking up her pillows, and she tried to ignore the thought that it would take the rest of her life and beyond.
It wasn’t only the school play. The carol-singers had to be rounded up and rehearsed, and someone had discovered that she could play the piano, so that each evening for half an hour she played carols, not always correctly but with feeling, sometimes joining in the singing.
The school concert would be held on the very last day, so that parents coming to collect their small sons could applaud their skills. There were to be recitations, duets on the piano, and a shaky rendering of ‘Silent Night’ by a boy who was learning the violin and a promising pianist. It was a pity that the two boys didn’t get on well and rehearsals were often brought to a sudden end while they squabbled.
But it was a happy time for them all and Araminta, sitting up in bed long after she should have been asleep, fashioning suitable costumes for the Three Kings, to be sung by three of the older boys, although she was unhappy, was learning to live with her unhappiness. The answer was work; to be occupied for as many hours as there was daylight and longer than that so that she was too tired to think when she went to bed.
She didn’t go home on her next day off, but spent the day buying Christmas presents and writing cards. Her parents had never celebrated Christmas in the traditional way; they exchanged presents and Araminta made Christmas puddings and mince pies, but there was never a tree or decorations in the house. This year, now that she had money to spend, she determined to make it a festive occasion. So she shopped for baubles for the tree, and tinsel, candles in pretty holders, crackers in pretty wrappings.
There was a tree set up in the Assembly Hall at school, too, and the boys were allowed to help decorate it. The nearer the end of term came the more feverish became the activity. End of term examinations were taken, reports made out and the boys’ clothes inspected ready for packing. After the concert there would be a prize giving, and then the boys would go home. Araminta was to stay for another day, helping Norma leave the dormitories and recreation rooms tidy, before they, too, would go home.
Before the end of term the Gardiners gave a small party for the staff. Araminta had met them all, of course, but saw very little of them socially. She changed into a pretty dress and went with Norma to drink sherry and nibble savoury biscuits and exchange small talk with the form masters, the little lady who taught music and the French girl who taught French. Mr Gardiner was kind, asking her if she enjoyed her work, wanting to know what she was doing for Christmas, and Mrs Gardiner admired her dress.
The last day came, a round of concert, prize-giving and seeing the boys all safely away. Even those few whose parents were abroad were going to stay with friends or relatives, so that by suppertime the school was empty of boys and several of the staff.
Araminta and Norma began on the task of stripping beds, making sure that the cupboards and lockers were empty, checking the medicine chest and the linen cupboard, and then they spent the next morning sorting bed linen, counting blankets and making sure that everything was just so. They would return two days before the boys to make up beds and get things shipshape.
Norma was ready to leave after lunch. ‘I’ll go and see Mr Gardiner,’ she told Araminta, ‘and then go straight out to the car. So I’ll say goodbye and a Happy Christmas now. You’ll catch the train later? Have a lovely Christmas.’
Araminta finished her own packing, took her case and the bag packed with presents down to the hall and went in search of Mr Gardiner.
He was in his study, sitting at his desk, and looked up as she went in.
‘Ah, Miss Pomfrey, you have come to say goodbye. You have done very well and I am more than pleased with you; you certainly helped us through a dodgy period.’ He leaned back in his chair and gave her a kind smile.
‘I am only sorry that we cannot offer you a permanent position here; I have heard from our assistant matron, who tells me that her mother has died and she has begged for her job back again. She has been with us for a number of years and, given that your position was temporary, I feel it only fair to offer her the post again. I am sure you will have no difficulty in finding another post; I shall be only too glad to recommend you. There is always a shortage of school matrons, you know.’
Araminta didn’t say anything; she was dumb with disappointment and surprise, her future crumbling before her eyes just as she had felt sure that she had found security at last. She had really convinced herself that the previous Matron would not return. Mr Gardiner coughed. ‘We are really sorry,’ he added, ‘but I’m sure you will understand.’
She nodded. ‘Yes, of course, Mr Gardiner…’
He looked relieved. ‘The post was brought to me a short while ago; there is a letter for you.’ He handed her an envelope and stood up, offering a hand. ‘Your train goes shortly? Stay here as long as you wish. I’m sure they will give you a cup of tea if you would like that before you go.’
‘Thank you, there is a taxi coming for me.’
She shook hands and smiled, although smiling was very difficult, and went quickly out of the room.
In the hall she sat down and opened her letter. It was from her mother.
Araminta would understand, she felt sure, that she and her father had been offered a marvellous opportunity to go to Italy, where there had been the most interesting finds. Splendid material for the book, wrote her mother, and an honour for her father. They would return as soon as they could—some time in the New Year. ‘You will have your cousin for company,’ finished her mother, ‘and I’m sure you will be glad of a quiet period.’
Araminta read the letter twice, because
