you’ve always been a brick about it. If it hadn’t been for you being so sane about it, I should have been a neurotic old maid by now. It was you who showed me how to live with it, and I do, you know—only now, with Leslie… I’d like to take a chance.’
‘It won’t be a chance; not with that nice man, it’ll be a certainty.’
Esmeralda had thought vaguely that they might ride over the forest during the morning. She rode well herself—everyone did in that part of the country, although she didn’t hunt; she had too much sympathy for the fox, but ambling around on her mare Daisy was something she enjoyed, and it surprised her, when she broached the subject at breakfast, to discover that Leslie didn’t ride; what was more, he didn’t like horses. She had noticed the previous evening that he had repelled the advances of Maudie and Bert, the elderly labradors, but she had excused him then on the grounds of him not knowing them, but now it was apparent that he didn’t like animals very much. She suggested a walk instead and was instantly sorry, for he said at once in a concerned voice: ‘Oh, my dear, no—not with that foot of yours.’
Nanny had been passing as she spoke and she had uttered the small tutting sound which Esmeralda remembered so well as a sign of her disapproval. She had given Nanny a green stare of anger; couldn’t she see that Leslie was concerned for her comfort? She agreed readily enough after that to go in his car to Ringwood, where they wandered round the shops amongst the holidaymakers, an exercise far more tiring to her crippled foot than a morning’s stroll in the forest. It was fortunate that after lunch Mrs Jones should suggest that they might go over to some friends a few miles away and swim in their pool. ‘They told me to bring you over the next time you were home,’ she declared, ‘and it’s a heavenly day. I’ll take my car, shall I? I know the way.’
The friends lived in a Victorian villa of great size and ugliness but with plenty of ground around it. The pool was at the back of the house and already the younger members of the family were in it or lying around in long chairs at its edge. Swimming trunks were found for Leslie, and Esmeralda went off to change.
She knew everyone there; most of them since she had been a small girl. She dived neatly off the side and swam a length or two before going to the side to call Leslie. ‘It’s heavenly,’ she cried, ‘come on in!’ And she swam off again, as smoothly as a seal, happily aware that however much she was hampered on dry land, in the water she was just about as good as she could be, so that his look of surprised admiration made her glow with happiness. The glow faded a little when she got out of the water and went to sit with the rest of them; no one took any notice of the grotesque little foot stretched out on the grass, no one save Leslie, who gave it a quick, furtive glance and looked away again, and then, as though fascinated, looked again. But his manner towards her didn’t change; he was still charming and just a little possessive and full of praise for her swimming; the glow started up again, so that her lovely eyes sparkled and her cheeks pinkened, and when they went back home after tea she told her mother, quite truthfully, that she hadn’t enjoyed herself so much for years.
She changed into one of the pretty dresses hanging in the fitted cupboard in her room and went along to her mother’s room once more, to perch on the bed and watch that lady do her face.
‘Mother, what did Mr Bamstra say?’ she asked at length.
Her mother laid down her lipstick and turned to look at her. ‘He told me exactly what he was going to do; he told me that he intended to arrange for you to go to Holland so that he could operate there—in his own theatre. He said that you would be walking, God willing, with all the grace of a princess—yes, he said that—in a matter of two months, and dancing like a fairy in three. He suggested that I might like to come over and see you, and of course I said yes.’
‘That would be marvellous, but Mother dear, how am I to get leave to go?’
Her mother smiled. ‘I think perhaps he has all that sorted out.’ She turned back to her mirror. ‘Your father would have liked him.’ She added on an afterthought: ‘He comes from Friesland, I suppose that’s why he’s so very outsize.’
She gave a final pat to her hair, mousey hair like her daughter’s and only lightly streaked with grey. ‘And now let’s go downstairs and give that young man of yours a drink.’
The evening passed pleasantly and Leslie was so charming and such an entertaining companion that Esmeralda relaxed completely; her mother must surely see now just how super he was. She went to bed presently, feeling quite content with her world. Everything was going to come right after all; she wouldn’t be a cripple any more, and Leslie would go on falling in love with her and they’d get married. She floated off to sleep on a dream, which, while quite impractical, was nevertheless most satisfying.
And nothing happened on Sunday to mar her satisfaction. They went to church in the morning, taking it for granted that Leslie would go with them, and when they got back Esmeralda went to the kitchen to help Nanny to get the lunch, just as she had always done, for Dora, Nanny’s niece, had the day off on Sundays, and Mrs Pike, the daily help, never came at the weekends.
‘He’ll have to put up with cold,’ said Nanny as soon as Esmeralda put her face round the door. ‘There’s soup and a raised pie I made yesterday, and one of my trifles.’ Nanny, over the years, had turned out to be as good a cook as she had been a nanny. She thumped the pie down on the large scrubbed table in the middle of the kitchen and said rather crossly: ‘You can make a potato salad, Miss Esmeralda, if you’d be so good.’ She stirred her soup. ‘Do you see much of this young man at the hospital?’
‘Well, yes, Nanny—he’s the registrar on the ward where I work, you know. I see him most days.’
‘And after work too, I’ll be bound.’ Nanny’s voice was sharp.
‘Sometimes. Don’t you like him, Nanny?’ Esmeralda’s voice was wistful although she didn’t know it.
‘Now, love, if he’s the man for you and you want to marry him and he’ll make you happy for the rest of your life, then I’ll dote on him.’ She bustled to the sink and turned on the taps with a great deal of vigour. ‘I hear from your mother that you’re going away to have that foot of yours seen to. I always knew that there was someone in the world who could put it right for you. It’ll be a treat to see you dance—I only hope I live to see the day.’
Esmeralda put down the potato cutter she was busy with and went over to the sink. ‘Nanny, what a thing to say! Why, you’ve always vowed that you’ll be nanny to my babies even if you have to live to be a hundred.’
Nanny thumped a saucepan down hard. ‘And it’ll have to be a good deal sooner than that if I have my wish, and I will. You mark my words—Nanny’s always right.’
And having uttered this familiar phrase, so often repeated during Esmeralda’s childhood, she nodded her head, picked up her pie and told her erstwhile nursling to make haste with what she was doing.
Lunch was a gay meal and afterwards they sat in the garden, doing nothing much until Esmeralda went to get the tea, because on Sunday afternoons Nanny went into Burley to have tea with a friend and then go to church with her—and then it was time for them to drive back to London. When their goodbyes were said, Esmeralda was quick to notice that her mother didn’t suggest that Leslie should come again, although she said in her sweet, rather vague way: ‘I expect we shall see each other again, Leslie,’ and added the motherly rider: ‘And do be careful driving, won’t you. You know what the Sunday evening traffic is at this time of year.’
He had carried their cases out to the car then, and Esmeralda had hugged her mother and seized the opportunity to say: ‘I’m very happy—I
