At Odds With Love

‘She will be leaving,’ said Jane. ‘Basil is getting married and coming to live here within the next week or so.’

‘And you?’

‘I shall be going too.’

‘Dear, dear, that isn’t at all what your dear grandmother intended. Have you somewhere to go, Jane? And what about a job—can you get your post at the hospital back?’

‘Well, no, it’s been filled for months, but I shall be quite all right. I’ll let you know my address once I’m settled.’

She sounded so confident that he put the phone down with a sigh of relief. It upset him that Basil should disregard his grandmother’s wishes but there was nothing much he could do about it and, as it had turned out, there would be no need. Jane, he remembered, had had a ward sister’s post for a year or two before she had gone to live with her grandmother, quite a well paid job; she would certainly have sufficient funds to see her through the next week or so; all the same, he would make sure that she had the five hundred pounds as quickly as possible.

Jane tidied the kitchen and went back to the drawing-room. Until now she had done everything in a kind of bad dream but the sight of Bruno sitting before the fire with Percy and Simpkin each side of him turned the dream into reality. She knelt beside them, glad of the warmth of the fire. ‘Don’t worry, my dears,’ she begged them. ‘I’ll think of something. Not the local kennels; Basil would soon find out about that. There’s no one in the village—everyone I know has dogs and cats with no room for more.’

She got up and fetched pen and paper and started to do sums. Boarding them would cost money and she hadn’t a great deal; besides, they couldn’t stay shut up forever. She could try one of the animal sanctuaries, somewhere where they could all be together. She would have to go back to London and go to an agency and get a job as quickly as possible and then take her time applying for a post at one of the larger hospitals. She would have to pack too … The phone rang and she went to answer it. It was Basil.

‘We’ve stopped for coffee,’ he told her, and added, ‘And we have just remembered to remind you not to take anything which isn’t yours—’

‘How dare you?’ said Jane and banged down the receiver just as the front doorbell rang.

She had gone pale with rage and flung the door open, not caring who was there or why; it could be a gang of thieves for all she cared.

It was Professor van der Vollenhove, and at the sight of him the unhappiness and misery and fear of the future welled up and choked her. She burst into tears and flung her not inconsiderable person on to his massive chest.

The professor remained calm, a comforting arm around her shoulders, a hand offering a spotless white handkerchief, and, since she seemed incapable of using it, he mopped her wet face. Not that it made much difference; she went on sniffing and sobbing into his waistcoat for some minutes but presently she blew her charming nose and dried her eyes and disentangled herself.

‘Oh, I’m so ashamed. Do forgive me, it’s just …’ A large tear trickled down her cheek. ‘He’s going to have them put down,’ she mumbled, and a second tear started down the other cheek. Despite her pink nose and tear-stained face she still looked lovely. She looked up into his impassive face. ‘She loved them …’

He took the sopping handkerchief from her. ‘Come inside and tell me about it?’ he suggested.

A firm hand between her shoulderblades urging her on, Jane led him into the drawing-room. She said on a watery hiccup, ‘So sorry—if you will sit down I’ll make some coffee.’

For answer he swept her into a chair and sat down opposite her, his long legs stretched out before him, the epitome of relaxation—something the animals must have sensed, for they came to look up into his face and then sat themselves tidily at his feet.

‘I have a call to make fairly near here; I came to offer my condolences. I was sorry to hear about Mrs Wesley, a charming and brave old lady.’ When Jane nodded he said, ‘Begin at the beginning and tell me what has gone wrong.’

He was the last person she would have confided in; she had gained the impression that he hadn’t liked her, but now it all came tumbling out, a bit muddled though she made a brave effort to tell him nothing but the facts. Only when she told him about having Bruno and Percy and Simpkin put down did she falter. ‘You see,’ she added, ‘there’s nothing to stop Basil—it’s all his …’ She looked up. ‘It’s kind of you to listen. I’ll go and make the coffee.’

‘Let us forget the coffee for the moment.’ He sounded coolly friendly. ‘I think that I am able to help you.’ At her look of delighted relief he said, ‘You will as well be helping me and you will get the worst of the bargain. I am on my way to call upon an old friend of my mother: Lady Grimstone—perhaps you know her?’

‘Yes—well, Granny did.’

‘Then you will know that she is an irascible old lady with an uncertain temper and emphysema. She has had a companion for years—a Miss Smithers—badly in need of a holiday. So far, none of the applicants to replace her for a month has proved suitable. You might do.’ He smiled thinly. ‘It needs to be someone who needs work badly; she is extremely difficult. There is one advantage, however—Miss Smithers has two cats and Lady Grimstone has a very old basset hound; I believe she would have no objection to your having these small creatures with you.’

‘You mean that, really?’

He gave her a look which chilled the sudden glow of hope welling up in her insides.

‘I am not in the habit of speaking lightly, Miss Fox.’

She said hastily, ‘No, no, I’m sure you’re not, Professor. If you think I might do I’ll apply for the post. I’m most grateful …’

‘You may regret saying that.’ He looked her over in his cool way. ‘So now go and do something to your face and hair but show me first where I can make coffee.’

‘You’ll make the coffee?’ Her amazement was transparent.

His faintly mocking look stopped her from saying anything else; she led him to the kitchen, pointed out the coffee-pot, the Aga and the coffee-mill on the wall. Let him do his best, she thought, skimming through the door to her room.

She felt herself again, able to cope, and although she flinched away from the memory of her outburst she had the good sense to know that it was something which sooner or later would have occurred. She washed her face and dashed on some powder and some lipstick, brushed her hair smoothly into a French pleat and searched her wardrobe for something suitable to wear. She chose a cotton chambray dress the colour of clotted cream with a neat collar and shaped yoke and a thick knit cardigan to wear with it, one she had knitted herself while sitting with her grandmother. She hoped that she looked reasonably like a companion as she ran back downstairs to the kitchen and found the professor pouring coffee into two mugs.

He scarcely looked at her. ‘I need to be back in town by four o’clock,’ he observed and handed her a mug.

‘I don’t suppose Lady Grimstone will take very long interviewing me,’ ventured Jane.

‘Probably not; we should be away from there in plenty of time. I’ll drop you off here as I go.’

‘Won’t that take you out of your way?’

‘No. I can take the A354 to Salisbury and pick up the A303.’ His tone made it plain that it wasn’t her concern. She drank her coffee and told him meekly that she was ready if he wanted to leave.

CHAPTER TWO

LADY GRIMSTONE lived on the outskirts of a hamlet away from the road between Pimperne and Tarrant Hinton, not many miles from Mrs Wesley’s house as a crow might fly, but by car it meant taking the lane through the village and on until it joined the main road to Blandford and then taking another side-road, to finally turn off into a narrow lane.

Jane had been momentarily diverted from her thoughts of an uncertain future by the sight of the Bentley Continental outside the door. Understated elegance, she reflected, admiring its sober dark grey and the soft leather of its interior. If she had known the professor better, or been more certain of his opinion of her, she would have commented on it—as it was, she got in when he opened the door for her and sat serenely beside him. She had found time to leave a note in case Bessy came back first, check that the windows were closed, make sure that she had the keys and that the Aga was smouldering as it should, and assure the animals that she would be back very shortly before she went out of the house to join him. He wasn’t to know that she had the urge—strong in all females—to go back and check everything once more before finally closing the door and giving the handle a quick turn just to make sure that it was shut.

They spoke hardly at all as he drove. Jane, the sharp edge of her grief washed away by her tears, pondered her prospects—a month would give her time to apply for as many posts as possible and she had enough money to rent a small flat or even a large bedsitter for a week or two as long as it had a balcony so that the animals could stay easily. She sat debating with herself as to which city would be the best in which to apply for a post, unaware that her companion, glancing at her from time to time, could see her frown and guessed a little of what she was thinking.

‘It is just a waste of time to plan your future until you have this job.’

His voice, cool and impersonal, broke into her thoughts.

‘You think I might not be suitable?’

‘Why should you not be suitable? But you would be wise to take things as they come.’

He was right, of course, even though his advice lacked warmth.

Lady Grimstone lived in a solid country residence set in conventional grounds, a mere half-mile from the village, but the walls round it were high and the double gates were closed so that the professor had to lean on his horn until a flustered woman came from the lodge.

‘Lady Grimstone doesn’t encourage visitors,’ observed the professor drily as he drove along the drive to the house.

A stern-visaged woman admitted them, ushered them into a small room off the hall and went away. Jane sat down composedly; it was no use getting uptight. Things didn’t look too promising at the moment but she needed the job and she reminded herself that beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The professor, entirely at his ease, had gone to look out of the window; an encouraging word or two would have been kind, she reflected with a touch of peevishness. It was on the tip of her tongue to say so when the door opened and the woman asked them to follow her.

They were led upstairs to a portrait-lined gallery above and ushered in to a room facing the staircase. The room was large and had a balcony overlooking the grounds; it was furnished with a great many tables and uncomfortable-looking chairs, the tables loaded with ornaments and photos in silver frames. The room was also very hot with a fire blazing in the hearth. Sitting by the fire in a high-backed chair was Lady Grimstone, a formidable figure, her stoutness well corseted and clothed in purple velvet—an unfortunate choice, thought Jane, with that high complexion. She looked ill tempered, her mouth turned down at its corners, but as the professor entered the room with Jane beside him she smiled.

‘Nikolaas—how delightful to see you. You bring news of your dear mother, no doubt.’ She fished the pince-nez from her upholstered bosom. ‘And who is this? Do I know her?’

‘Miss Jane Fox, who, I hope, will take over from Miss Smithers for a short while. A trained nurse and most competent,’ he added smoothly.

Lady Grimstone studied Jane at some length. ‘I cannot really understand why Miss Smithers should need a holiday,’ she observed. ‘She leads a very pleasant life here with me.’

The professor didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘Oh, undoubtedly, but it is two—three years since she visited her sister in Scotland; a month away doesn’t seem unreasonable to me, Lady Grimstone, and besides you will benefit from her fresh outlook when she returns.’ He added suavely, ‘We all need to make sacrifices from time to time …’

Lady Grimstone’s massive person swelled alarmingly. ‘You are right, of course. How like your dear father you are, Nikolaas, and I know that you have my welfare at heart.’

She looked at Jane again. ‘I have constant ill health,’ she observed. ‘My present companion, Miss Smithers, understands my needs; it is to be hoped that you will do your best to emulate her.’ She adjusted the pince-nez. ‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-seven, Lady Grimstone.’

‘And no followers, I trust?’

Without looking at him, Jane knew that Professor van der Vollenhove was amused. ‘No.’

‘You like animals? I have a dog. Miss Smithers has cats but I presume that they will go with her if and when she goes on holiday.’

‘I do like animals; I have two cats and a dog.’

To her surprise Lady Grimstone took the news with equanimity. ‘You would have Miss Smithers’s room, quite suitable for animals. The dog is small?’

‘Yes, Lady Grimstone.’

‘Ring the bell, if you please, Nikolaas.’

When the woman answered it she said, ‘Tell Miss Smithers to come here,’ in a demanding tone without so much as a please.

Miss Smithers came into the room silently, a sensible-looking woman in her forties. She had a pleasant face and a quiet voice.

‘You wanted me, Lady Grimstone?’

‘As you see, Professor van der Vollenhove has come to see me—his mother is one of my dearest friends. He has found someone to take your place while you go on this holiday. Take her away and explain your duties.’

Miss Smithers didn’t answer but smiled at Jane and went to the door and Jane followed. ‘Come down to my room,’ invited Miss Smithers. ‘We can talk there.’

She led the way downstairs and opened a door leading from the hall, ushered Jane through it and closed the door behind her. ‘You must need a job badly,’ she observed in her sensible voice. She smiled as she spoke and Jane smiled back.

‘Oh, I do. You see I have to leave—my home, and I have two cats and a dog. It seemed hopeless but Professor van der Vollenhove called this morning and said he knew of something. Is it a difficult job?’

‘No, but you will have no life of your own and you are still so young—for myself it suits well enough; I am able to save money and when I have sufficient I shall retire. I like a quiet life and Lady Grimstone is most lenient about pets and that is important to me—to you too, I expect?’

‘Yes, more important than anything else. If I can’t find somewhere they will be welcome my cousin will have them put down.’

‘Sit down and tell me about it,’ invited Miss Smithers.

It was nice to talk to someone who was willing to listen and who, when Jane had finished her sorry little tale, assured her that, difficult though Lady Grimstone was, this was obviously the answer to her prayers. ‘I’ll tell you the daily routine …’

Her day would start early and finish late but from time to time there would be a chance to have an hour or two to herself, ‘And Lady Grimstone expects you to walk her dog several times a day which means you can take yours at the same time. As you can see, this room is ideal—’ she crossed the room and opened the glass doors leading to a small conservatory ‘—it’s ideal for cats and dogs. I leave the outside door open so that they can get in and out if I’m not here—there’s a high wall right round the garden so they can’t go far.’

A bell pinged loudly and Miss Smithers said, ‘That’s Lady Grimstone now. I must warn you that she rings any time during the twenty-four hours and will expect you to be there within minutes. Do you still want the job? It’s for a month … do you know how much you’ll be paid?’

‘I’ve no idea, I just want somewhere for a few weeks while I decide what to do—I’m a nurse—I’ve had a ward for several years, I intend to apply for a job, but it takes time. This is perfect …’

‘Can you not stay with your cousin? Would he not allow you to remain for a few weeks?’

Jane, who had glossed over the gloomier aspects of her tale, admitted that she had just two days in which to leave the house. ‘So you see, it is urgent.’

‘Well, we’ll soon see what she’s decided.’ They went back upstairs to the drawing-room and found Lady Grimstone still in her chair and the professor standing with his back to the fire.

‘Professor van der Vollenhove recommends you, Miss Fox, and I dare say you’ll do and be no worse than anyone else. He tells me that you’re free to come at once so you, Miss Smithers, can pack your bags and be off. A month, mind, not a day more. Have you explained your duties?’

‘Yes, Lady Grimstone. May I suggest that I go on the day after tomorrow and that Miss Fox comes tomorrow so that she may see exactly how you like things done?’

‘I had already thought of that,’ declared Lady Grimstone, who hadn’t. ‘How will you get here?’ she asked abruptly, and Jane thought, Rude old woman; but before she could answer the professor said carelessly, ‘Oh, I’ve another visit to make in Blandford, I can easily collect Miss Fox and her luggage and animals.’ He didn’t wait for the old lady to reply but asked Jane, ‘Will ten o’clock suit you? That will give you all day to find your way around before Miss Smithers goes.’

‘Thank you, it’s kind of you to offer.’

‘Now I’m afraid I must be off and if you’re ready, Miss Fox, I’ll drop you off—I pass your door.’

Lady Grimstone was pleased to be gracious. ‘Well, that settles everything, does it not? Of course I shall not pay you the salary which Miss Smithers enjoys. Let me see …’

She named a sum which, from the look of disgust on Miss Smithers’s face, was well below the normal rate, but Jane answered quietly, ‘Thank you, Lady Grimstone.’ It might not be much but she would be able to save a good deal of it in a month; to be able to step straight into a job at the end of that time might not be possible and there were the animals.

In the car the professor said, ‘I hope you are prepared for a rather disagreeable month …’

‘Yes, I am, and thank you very much for helping me, Professor, I’m very grateful …’

‘Save your gratitude.’ He sounded mocking. ‘I told you what kind of a job it would be.’

‘I know that, but at least we can all have a home while I look around for a permanent job.’

He said casually, ‘True enough. Be ready for me in the morning. Have you a great deal of luggage?’

‘Two cases and the cats and Bruno. The girl who took over my flat when I came home has stored most of my things. Must I tell Basil?’

‘Certainly not. He told you to leave and you are doing so; that should suffice. What about that nice woman—Bessy? Is she to go too?’

‘He said she was to stay until he came but she won’t do that. She has a sister in London—she wants to go there. She had to go to Blandford this morning to see the solicitor and arrange her annuity.’

‘If she can be ready I’ll take her to Blandford as we go.’

‘You’re very kind …’

‘Dismiss the thought that I am a second Sir Galahad, I merely like to arrange matters in a satisfactory manner.’

Which speech so dampened Jane’s spirits that she fell silent. At the house she asked diffidently if he cared to come in.

‘Five minutes—I’ll talk to Bessy.’

‘She may not be back unless she got a lift. The bus doesn’t leave until after lunch …’ She stopped talking for she could see that he wasn’t listening; indeed, he looked bored. She led him wordlessly to the drawing-room and went to see if Bessy had returned.

She had. Jane could hear her singing, slightly off key, in the kitchen. She looked up from peeling potatoes as Jane went in. ‘Everything’s settled, Miss Jane. That nice old man, ‘e ‘as everything just so, I put me name ter a paper or two and that’s that. Money every month—what do you think of that, eh?’

‘Wonderful, Bessy. Look, come quickly, will you? There’s no time to tell you now, but I’ve got a job and am leaving tomorrow—the professor says if you want to go too he’ll give you and your luggage a lift when he comes for me.’

Bessy was already taking off her pinny. ‘It’s a bit sudden, like, but I can’t get away quick enough.’ She trotted back with Jane and found the professor leaning out of an open window, looking at the view.

He explained quickly and very clearly so that Bessy took it all in without a lot of interrupting. ‘I’ll be ready and waiting, sir,’ she said without any hesitation, ‘and thank yer kindly. Me and Miss Jane, we can’t get away from ‘ere fast enough now Mrs Wesley’s gone.’

‘Good. I’ll see you both tomorrow.’

‘Will you have some lunch?’ asked Jane, and went pink when he said gravely, ‘I have no time, but thanks for the coffee I had earlier.’

She saw him to the door and watched him get into his car and drive away. There had been no need to remind her that she had made a fool of herself weeping all over him. He had been kind and helpful and indeed given her the chance to get away just when she was in despair. All the same, she wasn’t sure if she liked him.

She had no time to waste thinking about him. She and Bessy had a sketchy meal in the kitchen and went about the business of packing. The house was already cleaned and polished; Basil would be unable to find fault with the way in which they had left it. Bessy telephoned her sister, cleaned out the fridge and, having packed her things, set about cooking a splendid meal for them both. As for Jane, she went down to the village and told the post office that they were leaving and could their letters be redirected, then she stopped the milk and warned the baker.

Mrs Bristow leaned over the counter. ‘Is that Mr Basil coming to live here?’ she wanted to know, and when Jane said that yes, he was, Mrs Bristow nodded. ‘Well, love, you just go and enjoy yourself, you’ve earned it, I dare swear, you and Bessy both. Good luck to you. Not but what we shall all miss you.’

There wouldn’t be much time in the morning; Jane went round the old house, bidding it a silent goodbye and shutting the windows and locking the doors. Basil had demanded a set of keys on his last visit and now she left her bunch of keys on their ring on the hall table and went along to the kitchen to eat her supper. They washed up together before she took Bruno and the cats for their last walk, and then, quite tired from their busy day, they went to their beds.

At breakfast Bessy said suddenly, ‘I can’t believe it, Miss Jane. After all these years, and you—it’s been yer ‘ome for most of yer life.’

‘But it wouldn’t be home if we stayed, Bessy, dear.’

‘I’ll ‘ear from you?’

‘Of course, Bessy, and I’ll come and see you as soon as I can—before I go to a job. I shall try for something away from London but I promise you I’ll come and see you first.’

She left Bessy to wash the few dishes and went in search of the animals, enjoying the morning sunshine in the garden; she had been careful not to let them see their baskets but all the same they were aware that something unusual was afoot; it would be most unfortunate if one of them decided to disappear just as the professor arrived. It was a relief when the small worry was resolved by a sudden chilly shower so that they trooped indoors where they settled in front of the fireless grate.

The professor was punctual and Jane lost no time in popping Percy and Simpkin into their baskets and fastening the lead on to Bruno’s collar. By the time he had been admitted and was carrying out the cases, she was ready, composed in a tweed suit and sensible shoes, her glorious hair very neat, her lovely face hardly needing the powder and lipstick which she had discreetly applied.

The professor wasted no time in idle chat; his good-morning was brisk and beyond a matter-of-fact question as to whether the gas and electricity had been turned off and the windows and doors closed he saved his breath, stowed the animals in the back with Bessy, held the door for Jane to get in beside him and without a backward glance drove away. Jane, who had been dreading the last few minutes when they left, was thankful for the abruptness of their departure, but she couldn’t resist a last look over her shoulder as they turned into the lane, suddenly annoyed with him because he had hurried them away; it would have been nice to have had a last quick walk through her home, a last stroll in the garden.