Katherine went in with the doctor, she said,’ Katherine, do go upstairs and see to the children. I’m exhausted already—I had to sit down quietly…’
She smiled bewitchingly at the doctor, who didn’t smile back. ‘Mrs Marsh, Miss Marsh will be taking up her job this evening. I shall be here for her at six o’clock. I’m sure you’ll make certain that she has the time to collect her things together before then.’ He smiled at Katherine. ‘You can be ready by then? I have an appointment in the evening and must go to the hospital this afternoon, otherwise I would come for you after lunch.’
‘I’ll be ready.’ Katherine gave him a beaming smile. ‘Thank you for taking me this morning.’
‘You’ll stay for coffee?’ asked Joyce persuasively.
‘Thank you, no.’ He shook her hand and Katherine took him to the door.
‘Scared?’ he asked softly. ‘Don’t worry, if you haven’t been given the chance to pack, I’ll do it for you when I come.’ He patted her briskly on the shoulder. ‘I bless the day I knocked on this door; I’ve been searching for weeks for someone like you.’ Her heart leapt at his words, and then plummeted to her toes as he added, ‘You’re exactly what the Graingers need.’
She stood for a moment or two after he had gone, dismissing sentimental nonsense from her head, preparing herself for the unpleasantness to come. And unpleasant it was, too, for Joyce was at her most vindictive.
Katherine allowed the worst of it to flow over her head and, when Joyce paused for breath, said in her calm way, ‘Well, Joyce, Robin and Sarah are your children, after all. If you don’t want to look after them, Henry can quite afford to get someone who will.’
She went up to her room and finished her packing which, since she had very few possessions, took no time at all. She was just finishing when Mrs Todd called up the stairs. ‘Mrs Marsh ‘as gone out, and them dratted kids is all over my kitchen!’
Katherine had changed back into elderly jeans and a sweater. She pulled on her jacket now and went downstairs. The children were running wild, sensing that something was happening and cheerfully adding to the disruption.
‘Mrs Todd, help me cut some sandwiches and prepare a thermos—I’ll take the children out and we can find somewhere to picnic. I know it’s not much of a day, but it’ll get them out of the house. Leave the key under the mat if we’re not back, will you?’
They set out half an hour later, the children unwilling at first but, once away from the house, walking along the bridle paths, they could race about and shout as much as they wanted to. Katherine suspected that Joyce had taken herself off for the day in the hope that, if she didn’t return, Katherine would feel bound to stay, but Henry would be home by five o’clock, and an hour later Dr Fitzroy would come for her.
She found a hollow out of the wind, and they ate their sandwiches there and then started back home. The children were tired now and, once they were back in the empty house, they were willing enough to have their outdoor things taken off and to settle at the kitchen table while Katherine got their tea. They had just finished when their father got home.
Katherine greeted him briskly. ‘Joyce isn’t back—I don’t know where she went. The children have had their tea, and I’ve put everything ready for them to be put to bed presently.’
‘What about my supper?’
‘I really wouldn’t know, Henry. I’m sure Joyce will have arranged something. Dr Fitzroy is coming for me at six o’clock.’
He looked aghast. ‘But you can’t leave us like this! Who’s going to put the children to bed and get the supper?’
He had treated her as a kind of maid of all work for the last two years, but she could still feel sorry for him. ‘Henry, you knew I was taking this job. You need never bother with me again, for you have never liked having me here, have you? Find a nice strong girl to help Joyce with the children, and persuade Joyce to give up some of her committees and spend more time at home.’
‘I’ll decide what is best, thank you, Katherine.’ He was being pompous again and her concern for him faded. ‘While you are waiting, you might get the children to bed.’
‘They don’t go until half-past six,’ she pointed out. ‘Why not take them to the nursery and read to them? I have a few last-minute things to do…’
She left him looking outraged.
It was five minutes to six when Joyce came home. Katherine heard her voice, loud and complaining. ‘Where’s Katherine? Why aren’t the children with her? What about supper? I’m far too tired to do anything—she’ll have to stay until tomorrow, or until someone can be found to help me…’
Leaving her room, her cases in either hand, Katherine heard her brother’s voice, raised against the children’s shrill voices and then, thankfully, the front door bell.
She hurried downstairs and opened the door and heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of Dr Fitzroy, large and reassuring. ‘I haven’t said goodbye,’ she told him, rather pale at the prospect.
He took her cases from her, put them in the porch and went past her into the hall. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said and gave an encouraging little smile.
A waste of time as it turned out; Joyce turned her back and Henry glared at her and began a diatribe about ungrateful girls who would get what they deserved, deserting young children at a moment’s notice. The doctor cut him short in the politest way. ‘Fortunately, they have parents to look after them,’ he observed in a bland voice which held a nasty sharp edge. ‘We will be on our way.’
Katherine had said goodbye to the children, so she bade Henry and Joyce goodbye quietly and followed Dr Fitzroy out of the house, shutting the door carefully behind her. She got into the car without a word and sat silently as he drove away. It was silly to cry; she would not be missed, not as a person who had been loved, but just for a moment she felt very lonely.
The doctor said cheerfully, without looking at her, ‘I often think that friends are so much better than relations, and I’m sure you’ll quickly make plenty of friends.’ And then he added very kindly, ‘Don’t cry, Katherine, they aren’t worth it. You are going somewhere where you’re wanted and where you’ll be happy.’
She sniffed, blew her ordinary little nose and sat up straight. ‘I’m sorry. You’re quite right, of course. It’s just that the last two years have been a complete waste of time…’
‘How old are you? Twenty-one, you said? I am thirty-six, my dear, and I believe I have wasted a good many more years than two. But they are never quite wasted, you know, and all the other years make them insignificant.’
She wished with all her heart that she could stay close to his large, confident person for ever, but at least she would see him twice a week. She smiled at the thought as he said, ‘That’s better. Now, listen carefully. I shall only stay a few minutes at the Graingers; they dine at eight o’clock, that gives you time to find your way around and to unpack. They go to bed at ten o’clock, never later. Mrs Dowling likes her evenings to herself once she has seen to dinner, so you will get their bedtime drinks and so forth. She takes up their morning tea at half-past seven, but I don’t expect she will do the same for you. It’s quite a large house to run and she manages very well with two women who come in to help. Your job will be to leave her free to do that;
