was halfway through January when she got home one evening to find, to her great astonishment, Sir Colin Crichton sitting all at ease opposite her grandfather’s armchair by the open fire. He got up when she went in and wished her a polite good evening, and she replied with a hint of tartness. She wasn’t looking at her best; it had been a busy day and she was tired, and, conscious that her hair was untidy and her face badly needed fresh make-up, the frown she turned upon him was really quite fierce and he smiled faintly.
‘I came to talk to you,’ he said to surprise her, ‘but if you are too tired…?’
She took up the challenge. ‘I am not in the least tired,’ she assured him, and then said suddenly, ‘Oh—is it about my job?’
He had sat down again and she glanced at her grandfather, who, beyond smiling at her when she kissed him, had remained silent.
‘Er—yes, to a certain extent.’
She took an indignant breath. She had worked hard at a job she really didn’t like and now she supposed she was to get the sack, although why someone as exalted as Sir Colin had to do it was beyond her.
He said in his quiet, deliberate voice, ‘No, it is not what you think it is, Miss Crump, but it would please me very much if you would give up your job in the path lab and come to work for me.’
‘Come to work for you?’ she echoed his words in a voice squeaky with surprise. And then added, ‘Why?’
‘My nephews,’ he explained. ‘They have both had flu, tonsillitis and nasty chests. It is obvious that London doesn’t agree with them, at least until they are fit again. I feel responsible for them while their mother and father are away, but I am rarely at home during the day and there is no question of their going back to school for several weeks. I have a home at Turville, just north of Henley. A very small village and quiet— I don’t go there as often as I would wish. I should like the boys to go there and I would be glad if you would go with them. They have taken to you in a big way, you know.’ He smiled his charming smile. ‘There is a housekeeper there, her husband does the garden and the odd jobs but they are both elderly and the boys need young company—a kind of elder sister? I think that you would fill that role exactly…’
Eustacia had her mouth open to speak and he went on calmly, ‘No, don’t interrupt—let me finish… I am not sure how long it might be before my brother returns—but at least two months, and at the end of that time you would have sufficient experience to get a post in a similar capacity. There is plenty of room for everyone; the Samwayses have their own quarters on the ground floor at the back of the house and adjoining it is a bedroom which Mr Crump could use. You yourself, Miss Crump, would have a room next to the boys on the first floor. Now as to salary…’ He mentioned a sum which made Eustacia gape at him.
‘That’s twice as much as I’m getting,’ she told him.
‘I can assure you that you will earn every penny of it. Do you know anything about little boys?’
‘No, I’m afraid not.’
He smiled. ‘But I believe that you would do very well with them. Will you consider it?’
She looked at her grandfather, and although he didn’t say anything she saw the eagerness in his face. ‘This flat?’ she asked. ‘It’s—it’s our home.’
‘You could continue to rent it. Naturally I do not expect you to pay for your rooms and food at Turville.’ He sounded disapproving and she blushed.
‘It is a very generous offer…’ she began, and he laughed then.
‘My dear girl, this is no sinecure. The boot will be on the other foot if you agree to take charge of the boys. Would you like time to think it over?’
She caught sight of her grandfather’s face again. ‘No, thank you, sir, I shall be glad to come.’ She was rewarded by the look on the old man’s face. ‘I shall have to give my notice. I don’t know how long…?’
‘Give in your notice and I’ll have a word. And don’t call me sir, it makes me feel old.’ He got to his feet. ‘I am most grateful for your help. You will hear from me as soon as the details are settled.’
She saw him to the door. ‘You’re quite sure…? she began as she opened it.
‘Quite sure. The boys will be delighted.’
She stood in the doorway and watched him drive away and then went back to her grandfather.
He quickly dispelled any vague doubts floating around in her head. ‘It couldn’t be better,’ he declared. ‘It is a splendid start; when you leave the boys you will have a good reference and plenty of experience. You will be qualified for an even better post.’
‘But Grandfather, what about you?’ She sat down at the table.
‘We still have this flat—there must be a job such as this one where one can live out.’ He allowed himself to dream a little. ‘You might even get a post in the country where there is a cottage or something similar where we might live.’
She had her doubts, but it would be unkind to throw cold water over his pleasure. She let him ramble on happily and hoped that she had done the right thing. After all, her job, although not to her liking, was, as far as she knew, safe enough, and she had earned enough to make their life a good deal easier than it had been. On the other hand, she wouldn’t need to buy food, they would live rent-free and she would be able to save a good deal of the money she earned.
‘I hope I’m doing the right thing,’ she muttered as she went to the kitchen to get their supper.
She went to see Miss Bennett the next morning and was surprised to find that that lady knew all about it. ‘You will have to work out your week’s notice,’ she told Eustacia, and her usually sharp voice was quite pleasant. ‘There will be no difficulty in replacing you—I have a list of applicants ready to jump into your shoes.’ She added even more surprisingly, ‘I hope you will be happy in your new job. You will have to see the professor before you go. You are on Saturday duty this week, are you not?’ And when Eustacia nodded, ‘So you will leave at six o’clock on that day.’
She nodded dismissal and Eustacia escaped to the quiet of the little cubby-hole where she washed the bottles and dishes and, while she cleaned and polished, she allowed her thoughts to wander. Sir Colin hadn’t said exactly when they were to go, but she hoped it wouldn’t be until Monday so that she would have time to pack their things and leave the flat pristine.
There was a letter for her the following morning. If her grandfather and she could be ready by Sunday afternoon directly after lunch, they would be fetched by car and driven to Turville; he trusted that this arrangement would be agreeable to her. The letter was typewritten, but he had signed it with a scrawl which she supposed was his signature.
She could see no reason why they should not go when it was suggested, so she wrote a polite little note saying that they would be ready when the car came, and went off to tell her grandfather.
She packed their clothes on Saturday evening, got up early on Sunday morning and did some last-minute ironing, shut the cases and set about seeing that the flat was left clean. There wasn’t time to cook lunch, so she opened a can of soup and made some scrambled eggs and was just nicely ready when the doorbell was rung.
She was
