note of inquiry and she flushed a little.
‘I didn’t mean to sound rude,’ she assured him, ‘and I can do it later.’
For answer he began to pile the plates tidily and carried them through to the kitchen, and it struck her that he was a man who, once he had made up his mind, didn’t like it changed for him. They washed up together, talking in a casual friendly way which she found very pleasant, then went back to the sitting room, where the professor settled himself in a chair again with the air of one staying for the rest of the evening.
‘About the children,’ he began, ‘the eldest is Dirk, he’s ten, then there is Marineka, who is eight, Hubert, seven and Alberdina, the littlest, who is five. They are normal healthy children, that is to say they are as naughty and disobedient as most children of their ages. On the whole their manners are passable, they don’t sulk and I should say that they have a strong sense of fair play. They adore their mother, who spoils them, and hero-worship their father, an archaeologist of some repute, at present somewhere in Chile leading an expedition of some sort or other. He will be away for several more weeks, and since I had already accepted an invitation from St Elmer’s to give a series of lectures, Martina—my sister—decided that it would be a good idea if they were to come over to England at the same time. The children, by the way, speak tolerable English; they had an English nanny until she left to get married a short time ago.’ He paused to smile. ‘You are still willing to come?’
Beth’s wide mouth turned up its corners in a delightful smile. ‘Oh, yes. When do you want me to start?’
‘I am told that your holiday starts on Sunday.’ He paused to ask if he might light his pipe and Beth sat composedly watching him, saying nothing, and presently he went on: ‘There is a housekeeper and daily help, but they aren’t suitable for the children—besides, they have enough to do. You would have to be with them for most of the day, although I will undertake to have them with me if and when I am there. You are prepared for that?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she assured him. What was curtailed freedom when it meant William’s new shoes and some clothes for herself as well? ‘I’ve days off on Friday and Saturday. I could go along on Friday afternoon if you would like that. Where am I to go?’
He scribbled an address in his pocket book, tore out the page, and handed it to her. ‘Take a taxi,’ he advised her, ‘your expenses will be paid.’
She glanced at the address he had written down and then looked again because his writing was almost illegible. William had been right, it was somewhere close to Harrods—a rented house, presumably—possibly someone he knew; doctors helped each other… She was aware that he had got to his feet and jumped up briskly. ‘It was kind of you to come—I quite thought you had found someone else.’
She smiled as she spoke, but he answered seriously: ‘No—you seemed so suitable, and Professor MacDonald thinks highly of you—I am sure that I could have done no better.’
She found this speech a little damping, so that her good-bye was stiff, but once she had shut the door on his broad back, she whisked to William’s bedroom window which overlooked the street, and looked cautiously out, in time to see him getting into the Citroën. She craned her neck in order to get a better view; he must be very successful if he could afford to run a car costing almost seven thousand pounds, even though it matched his size. It was disconcerting when he looked up and caught her peering down, and waved.
Beth got up early on Friday morning, gave William his breakfast and a list of instructions which she knew very well he wouldn’t attend to, and set about cleaning the flat. William, though willing, was unhandy about the house and it would probably be in a shocking state when she got back, but at least she could leave it in apple pie order. She sighed as she Hoovered; a holiday—a real holiday—would have been super, but she cheered herself up with the promise of the shopping expedition she would have—a new suit, she decided happily while she packed a few things in a case; the despised skirt and sweater, a suede jerkin to wear over them if the days proved cool, a raincoat and a jersey dress; the only decent one she had, leaf green and simple enough for it not to matter that it was a year old at least, slacks, she supposed, and a shirt-blouse. She would wear her suit, a bargain in the January sales, Irish tweed and well cut, and she had her good leather shoes and handbag. She dressed quickly, did her face and hair, picked up her case and went downstairs to telephone for a taxi; it wasn’t the sort of neighbourhood where one was easily to be found.
The address which the professor had given her was just off Sloane Square; a quiet cul-de-sac reached by a narrow street and lined on three sides by tall elegant houses. There was an enclosed garden in its centre and it had all the peace of a country village. Very Knightsbridge, thought Beth, paying the driver before picking up her case and ascending the steps of number three.
The door was opened before she could ring the bell. A small, cheerful-faced woman wished her good day and without asking her what her business was, stood aside for her to go in. ‘You’ll be Miss Partridge,’ she declared comfortably, ‘the professor said you’d be arriving about now. If you’ll put your case down someone will bring it to your room presently, miss. I thought you might like to go there straight away and then have a cup of tea. The children are in the park with Nelly, who comes in to help most days; that’ll give you time to look around you. This way, if you please.’
She led the way down the narrow elegant hall to the staircase, curving up from its end wall. Half-way up she paused to get her breath, for she was on the stout side. ‘Your room’s on the second floor, with the children, miss; the professor thought it might be nicer for you as well as easier.’ She beamed kindly at Beth, who smiled back, liking her, before they went on again, across a surprisingly wide landing and up another flight of stairs opening on to a semicircle of thick carpet, lighted by a big bow window and with several doors leading from it. The housekeeper opened the first of these, disclosing a good sized room, furnished tastefully with Regency mahogany and curtained and carpeted in a delicate shade of blue.
‘Oh, charming!’ exclaimed Beth, quite carried away with the idea of having it for her own for a week; it reminded her of her room at Chifney’s, only there were no fields to be seen from its window, only the treetops from the little square in front of the house. She turned to smile again at her companion. ‘You must be the housekeeper—may I know your name?’
‘Mrs Silver, miss. I’ve been housekeeper here for many years now, ever since the professor inherited this house from his grandfather—that was his mother’s father, her being English. He’s not here all that often, not having the time, being such a busy gentleman.’
She turned round as a thin youngish woman appeared in the doorway with Beth’s case. ‘And this is Miss Powers; she comes in daily to help and what a blessing that is, I can tell you.’ She nodded and smiled and went on: ‘And now we’ll leave you to unpack your things, then perhaps you’ll come downstairs when you’re ready, there’ll be a nice tea ready for you. Would ten minutes suit you, miss?’
Beth thanked her and fell to unpacking, a task quickly accomplished so that she had time to tidy her hair and re-do her face and take a closer look at the room. It was really quite beautiful; the professor’s grandfather must have been a man of excellent taste. She looked around her as she made her way downstairs too, and found the same elegance, and promised herself a closer inspection of the pictures hanging on the walls when she had the leisure—if she had any leisure; the professor had warned her that she would have her hands full.
Mrs Silver appeared in the hall as Beth trod the last stair and led the way across the hall and opened a door, inviting her to enter, adding that tea would be brought in a very few minutes. Beth murmured her thanks, wishing to ask if there really was time for her to have tea before the children arrived, but Mrs Silver had already gone, closing
