‘After lunch I will carry you downstairs to one of the sitting rooms. Are you lonely?’
His question took her by surprise. She had her mouth open to say yes and remembered just in time that he wanted none of her company.
‘Not in the least, thank you,’ she told him. ‘I live alone in London, you know—I have a flat, close to Oliver’s.’
He nodded, wished her goodbye and went away—she heard the car roar away minutes later. Not a very successful morning, she considered, although he had wanted to know if she were lonely. And she had told a fib—not only was she lonely, but the flat she had mentioned so casually was in reality a bedsitter, a poky first floor room in a dingy street… She was reminded forcibly of it now and of dear old Waterloo, stoically waiting for her to come back. She longed for the sight of his round whiskered face and the comfort of his plump furry body curled on her knee. ‘I’m a real old maid,’ she said out loud, and then called, ‘Come in,’ in a bright, cheerful voice because there was someone at the door.
It was Noakes with more coffee. ‘And the Professor says if yer’ve got an ’eadache, miss, yer ter take one of them pills in the red box.’
‘I haven’t got a headache, thank you, Noakes, not so’s you’d notice. Has the Professor gone again?’
‘Yes, miss—Groningen this time. In great demand, ’e is.’
‘Yes. It’s quiet here, isn’t it? Doesn’t he ever have guests or family?’ Noakes hesitated and she said at once: ‘I’m sorry, I had no right to ask you questions about the Professor. I wasn’t being nosey, though.’
‘I know that, miss, and I ain’t one ter gossip, specially about the Professor—’e’s a good man, make no mistake, but ’e ain’t a ’appy one, neither.’ Caro poured a cup of coffee and waited. ‘It used ter be an ’ouse full when I first come ’ere. Eighteen years ago, it were—come over on ‘oliday, I did, and took a fancy ter living ’ere after I met Marta. She was already working ’ere, kitchenmaid then, that was when the Professor’s ma and pa were alive. Died in a car accident, they did, and he ups and marries a couple of years after that. Gay times they were, when the young Baroness was ’ere…’
‘Baroness?’
Noakes scratched his head. ‘Well, miss, the Professor’s a baron as well as a professor, if yer take my meaning.’
‘How long ago did he marry, Noakes?’ Caroline was so afraid that he would stop telling her the rest, and she did want to know.
‘It was in 1966, miss, two years after his folk died. Pretty lady she was, too, very gay, ’ated ’im being a doctor, always working, she used ter say, and when ’e was ’ome, looking after the estate. She liked a gay life, I can tell you! She left ’im, miss, two years after they were married—ran away with some man or other and they both got killed in a plane crash a few months later.’
Caro had let her coffee get cold. So that was why the Professor shunned her company—he must have loved his wife very dearly. She said quietly: ‘Thank you for telling me, Noakes. I’m glad he’s got you and Mrs Noakes and Juffrouw Kropp to look after him.’
‘That we do, miss. Shall I warm up that coffee? It must be cold.’
‘It’s lovely, thank you. I think I’ll have a nap before lunch.’
But she didn’t go to sleep, she didn’t even doze. She sat thinking of the Professor; he had asked her if she were lonely, but it was he who was the truly lonely one.
CHAPTER TWO
THE PROFESSOR TOOK the stitches out of Caro’s leg the next morning and his manner towards her was such as to discourage her from showing any of the sympathy she felt for him. He had wished her a chilly good morning, assured her that she would feel no pain, and proceeded about his business without more ado. Then he had stood back and surveyed the limb, pronounced it healing nicely, applied a pad and bandage and suggested that she might like to go downstairs.
‘Well, yes, I should, very much,’ said Caro, and smiled at him, to receive an icy stare in return which sent the colour to her cheeks. But she wasn’t easily put off. ‘May I wear my clothes?’ she asked him. ‘This dressing gown’s borrowed from someone and I expect they’d like it back. Besides, I’m sick of it.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘It was lent in kindness,’ he pointed out.
She stammered a little. ‘I didn’t mean that—you must think I’m ungrateful, but I’m not—what I meant was it’s a bit big for me and I’d like…’
He had turned away. ‘You have no need to explain yourself, Miss Tripp. I advise you not to do too much today. The wound on your leg was deep and is not yet soundly healed.’ He had left her, feeling that she had made a mess of things again. And she had no sympathy for him at all, she assured herself; let him moulder into middle age with his books and his papers and his lectures!
With Marta’s help she dressed in a sweater and pleated skirt and was just wondering if she was to walk downstairs on her own when Noakes arrived. He held a stout stick in one hand and offered her his arm.
‘The Professor says you’re to go very slowly and lean on me,’ he advised her, ‘and take the stairs one at a time.’ He smiled at her. ‘Like an old lady,’ he added.
It took quite a time, but she didn’t mind because it gave her time to look around her as they passed from one stair to the next. The hall was even bigger than she had remembered and the room into which she was led quite took her breath away. It was lofty and square and furnished with large comfortable chairs and sofas, its walls lined with cabinets displaying silver and china and in between these, portraits in heavy frames. There was a fire in the enormous hearth and a chair drawn up to it with a small table beside it upon which was a pile of magazines and newspapers.
‘The Professor told me ter get something for yer to read, miss,’ said Noakes, ‘and I done me best. After lunch, if yer feels like it, I’ll show yer the library.’
‘Oh, Noakes, you’re all so kind, and I’ve given you all such a lot of extra work.’
He looked astonished. ‘Lor’ luv yer, miss—we enjoy ’aving yer—it’s quiet, like yer said.’
‘Yes. Noakes, I’ve heard a dog barking…’
‘That’ll be Rex, miss. ’E’s a quiet beast mostly, but ’e barks when the Professor comes in. Marta’s got a little cat too.’
‘Oh, has she? So have I—his name’s Waterloo, and my landlady’s looking after him while I’m away. It’ll be nice to see him again.’
‘Yes, miss. Juffrouw Kropp’ll bring coffee for you.’
It was indeed quiet, sitting there by herself. Caroline leafed through the newspapers and tried to get interested in the news and then turned to the magazines. It was almost lunchtime when she heard the Professor’s voice in the hall and she sat up, put a hand to her hair and then put on a cheerful face, just as though she were having the time of her life. But he didn’t come into the room. She heard his voice receding and a door shutting and presently Juffrouw Kropp brought in her lunch tray, set it on the table beside her and smilingly went away again. Caro had almost finished the delicious little meal when she heard the Professor’s voice again, speaking
