Betty Neels - A Valentine for Daisy

The road along the Wylye was quiet, used mainly by local people, winding from one small village to the next one with glimpses of the river from time to time and plenty of trees. It was a splendid morning and Daisy cycled along it trying to guess what the job would turn out to be. Hard work, no doubt, but the money was good…

The Thorleys’ house was on the further side of Steeple Langford, a roomy place typical of the area, with plenty of large windows, a veranda and a wide porch. It was surrounded by nicely laid-out grounds with plenty of trees and as she went up the short drive she could see ponies and a donkey in the small adjoining field.

The front door was opened as she reached it and the two children and a black Labrador dog spilled out noisily. Daisy got off her bike. ‘Hello,’ she said cheerfully, ‘what’s your dog’s name?’

‘Boots. Have you got a dog?’ They had crowded round her, all three of them.

‘No, though we had one when I was a little girl. We have a cat; he’s called Razor.’

‘Why?’

‘He’s very sharp…’

The twins hooted with mirth. ‘May we see him?’

‘Perhaps one day your mother will let you come and see him. We’ll see.’

‘Why do all grown-ups say “we’ll see”?’

Daisy was saved from answering this by the appearance of Lady Thorley, wearing the kind of thin jersey dress that Daisy coveted.

‘Good morning. May we call you Daisy? Come on inside and have a look round. We’ve just finished breakfast but there’s coffee if you’d like it.’

Daisy declined the coffee, propped her bike against the porch and, with a twin on either side of her, went into the house.

It was as nice inside as it was out; comfortably furnished with some good pieces, a great many comfortable chairs, flowers everywhere and a slight untidiness which one would expect in a house where there were children and dogs. The nursery was on the first floor overlooking the back lawn, a large room with a low shelf around its walls to accommodate the various toys the twins possessed. There was a low table too and small chairs and also a comfortable chair or two for grown-ups.

‘They prefer to be out of doors,’ said their mother. ‘They’re very energetic, I’m afraid. I’ll show you the garden and then leave you, shall I?’ She led the way downstairs again. ‘The children have their milk about half-past ten and Jenny will bring your coffee at the same time. They have their lunch just after twelve, with me—and you, of course—and they have their tea at five o’clock before bed at six o’clock.’ Lady Thorley hesitated. ‘I’m sometimes out to lunch…’ She looked doubtfully at Daisy.

‘I’m sure Josh and Katie will keep me company when you are,’ said Daisy matter-of-factly and watched their mother’s face light up with relief.

‘The children had a nanny until quite recently,’ confided Lady Thorley. ‘She—she was very strict.’

‘I don’t know if I’m strict or not,’ said Daisy cheerfully. She beamed down at the children. ‘We’ll have to find out, won’t we?’

She spent the rest of the morning in the garden with the twins and Boots, pausing only long enough to drink her coffee while they reluctantly drank their milk. At lunch they were difficult, picking at their food, casting sly glances at their mother as they spilt their drinks, kicked the rungs of their chairs and upset the salt cellar. Lady Thorley said helplessly, ‘Darlings, do behave yourselves.’ She spoke in a loving voice which held no authority at all and they took no notice of her.

‘I wonder,’ observed Daisy pleasantly, ‘if it would be a good idea, Lady Thorley, if Josh and Katie were to have their lunch in the nursery for a few days—by themselves, of course…? I’ll sit in the room with them, naturally.’

Lady Thorley caught Daisy’s look. ‘What a good idea,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘Why didn’t I think of it before? We’ll start tomorrow.’

The twins exchanged glances. ‘Don’t want to,’ said Josh, and was echoed by Katie. They had stuck their small lower lips out, ready to be mutinous.

‘Well,’ said Daisy, ‘if you really don’t want to, will you eat your lunch like grown-up people with your mother and me?’

‘You’re strict…’

‘Not a bit of it. While you’re having your rest I’ll read whatever story you want.’

It had seemed a long day, thought Daisy as she cycled back home, but she had enjoyed it. The twins were nice children, spoilt by their mother and probably too strictly brought up by the nanny. She began to plan a daily regime which might, at least in part, correct some of that. They were very bright for their age; she would have to win their confidence as well as their liking.

By the end of the week she felt reasonably sure that she had done that; the twins were about the naughtiest children she had had to deal with while she had worked for Mrs Gower-Jones, and so charming with their large blue eyes and innocent little faces that it was sometimes difficult to be firm, but they seemed to like her and since she ignored their small tantrums she felt that she was making progress. She liked the job too, and enjoyed the cycle ride each day and the long hours spent out of doors with the children. The weather was delightful too, dry and warm with no hint of autumn. Of course, the ride wouldn’t be so nice in rain and wind, but she would be gone by then, although Lady Thorley hadn’t mentioned the likelihood of a governess yet.

Lady Thorley was going out to lunch, Daisy remembered as she pedalled along the quiet road, and since it was such a fine day perhaps she and the twins could have a picnic in the garden; she was good friends with the cook and the elderly housemaid and surely between them they could concoct a picnic instead of the usual meal indoors.

The twins were waiting for her with faithful Boots and she went up to the nursery with them for an hour’s playschool—Plasticine and wooden blocks, crayons and large sheets of scribbling paper—and they were tidying up when their mother came to say that she was going out to her lunch party and would be back by teatime. She looked elegant and pretty and Daisy had no doubt in her mind that her husband must adore her. The twins were kissed and told to be good, and Daisy was to be sure and ask for anything she might want. The three of them escorted her to the door and waved as she drove away in her smart little Mini, and Katie began to sniff sorrowfully.

‘Who’s coming to help get our picnic ready?’ asked Daisy, and whisked the moppet out into the garden with Josh and Boots. ‘Look, Cook’s put a table ready; let’s put the plates and knives and things on it and then we’ll go to the kitchen and fetch the food.’

She was leading the way back to the garden, laden with a tray of dishes—hard-boiled eggs, bacon sandwiches, little sausages on sticks and a mushroom quiche—when she saw Dr Seymour sitting on the grass leaning against the table. The children had seen him too; the dish of apples Josh had been carrying went tumbling to the ground and Katie, close behind him, dropped the plastic mugs she held as they galloped towards him with shrieks of delight. He uncoiled his vast person in one neat movement and received their onslaught with lazy good humour. ‘May I stay to lunch?’ he asked Daisy and, since he quite obviously intended to anyway, she said politely,

‘Of course, Dr Seymour. Lady Thorley is out but she’ll be back at teatime.’ She put down her tray. ‘I’ll fetch the rest of the food…’

She started back to the house and found him beside her, trailed by the twins and Boots. ‘Quite happy here?’ he wanted to know.

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Pleased to see me again?’

What an outrageous man, thought Daisy, and what a colossal conceit. She said pleasantly, ‘Should I be, Dr Seymour?’