Betty Neels - The Convenient Wife

‘My poor girl.’ He undid his coat, tossed his gloves on to the table and sat down opposite her. ‘The house is up for sale. Why are you sitting here in the cold alone?’

She said steadily, ‘Well, you see, this house doesn’t belong to Granny now—there was some arrangement she made a long time ago—she sold it to some kind of company, and they let her have the money for it then so that she had an income.’ She added seriously, ‘The rates are rather high, you know, and there wasn’t any other money, only her pension. That’s why I’m here—someone’s coming with some papers for me to sign…’

‘Have you no solicitor?’

‘Oh, yes, but you see it wasn’t convenient for him to come here in the evening, and he said it was all right for me to sign them.’ She went on in her sensible way, ‘The furniture is mine.’

‘You have family?’

‘No. At least, only a cousin of my father, whom I’ve never met. He and my father didn’t like each other, and I don’t suppose he would want to hear from me.’

He got up and shut the door. ‘When is this man coming?’

She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Now, if he’s punctual. Can I get you a cup of tea? I’m so sorry I didn’t ask you…’

Someone knocked on the door and he got up. ‘I’ll answer that. Are you having days off?’ And when she nodded he added, ‘And sleeping here?’

‘They said I could stay until the end of the month. There are things to pack up.’

He nodded and went to the front door, and presently he ushered in a businesslike-looking man with a briefcase. ‘Go ahead,’ he invited him. ‘I’m merely here in an advisory capacity.’

A remark which made Venetia blink with surprise. She still wasn’t thinking straight, but she was conscious of relief that the professor should have appeared on her doorstep just when she knew she needed someone. She wished the man good evening, and set herself to read the papers he offered her. Then she passed them over to the professor, who read them, too. They were quite in order, and it was no good pointing out that if the house had been Venetia’s on her grandmother’s death she would have been able to sell it for three times the amount her grandmother had received for it.

Venetia sighed, offered tea and was refused, and watched the professor see the man to the door. When he came back into the room she got up.

‘Thank you very much, Professor,’ she said politely. ‘It was very kind of you to stay. Now I have only to pack up and get somewhere to store the furniture.’ She added, unconsciously wistful, ‘Would you like a cup of tea before you go?’

‘No. Get whatever you need for the night. You’re coming back with me.’

Her white face flushed faintly. ‘Indeed, I am not, Professor. It is very kind of you to suggest it—’

‘I’m not being kind, I’m being sensible. You can’t stay alone. My housekeeper will look after you, and you can return in the morning and do whatever you have to do.’

He sounded reassuringly disinterested.

‘But won’t it interfere with your evening?’

‘Why should it? I’m going out to dinner, and shall not be back until late, and I’m operating in the morning. I suggest that you spend your two nights at my house and come and go as you please.’ He turned a frowning look upon her. ‘I’m already a little late.’

Put like that, there wasn’t much that she could do about it and, indeed, she hadn’t quite regained her usual independent spirit. She pushed a few things into her overnight bag, locked up and put on her coat, to be bustled out and into the Bentley, greatly to the interest of the neighbours.

It was a dark, misty evening and later there would be a frost. Venetia was grateful for the warmth of the big car, and at the same time realised that she was hungry. She hadn’t waited for tea at the hospital, and her midday dinner had been gobbled because she had been delayed on the ward by old Mr Thirsk, who was recovering from a stomach operation and had mislaid his glasses. It had taken her a few minutes to find them among the bedclothes, and by then his neighbour was demanding that his water jug be filled. Somehow her hunger was the last straw; she had just parted with what had been her home for some years, and she had very little idea what to do next. Go on nursing, of course, but there was the question of the furniture, and the solicitor had mentioned several outstanding bills. To her horrified shame her eyes filled with tears. They dripped down her cheeks, getting worse every moment. She put out her tongue and did her best to catch them, and sniffed discreetly, but she was quite unable to stop. It was a good thing that her companion was looking ahead of him. She turned her head away and gazed unseeingly out of the window.

The professor had turned into a wide road skirting the Heath, with houses standing well back, surrounded by large gardens, overlooking the fields and trees. He turned into an open gateway and stopped before the lighted porch of the house at the very end of the road, switched off the engine and asked quietly, ‘Why are you crying, Venetia?’ At the same time he offered her a handkerchief.

She mopped her eyes, blew her small nose defiantly, and said in a sodden voice, ‘You’re so kind.’ She looked at him over the hanky. ‘I’m very sorry—Mother always said that nothing annoyed a man more than women weeping.’ She gave a gulp and scrubbed at her face. ‘It’s just that it’s one thing on top of another,’ she mumbled.

He put out an arm and drew her close so that her head was on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but the comfort of it started her weeping once more. He let her cry for several minutes and then said, ‘We’ll sort things out tomorrow. I’ll be home after lunch for a couple of hours. I think it will be best if you stay here until I get back, then we can talk about it. It will be easier with two.’

She sniffed into his coat. ‘I’m not usually so silly, but it was all a bit sudden.’

‘And you had no one to turn to,’ he said softly. He disentangled her from his shoulder and undid her seat-belt, then got out to open her door. ‘Mrs Todd will look after you and give you supper.’ He had opened the door with his key, and ushered her inside. The hall was large and square, lit by a crystal chandelier hanging from a plastered ceiling, and a curved staircase rose from one side. There were a number of doors leading from it, and from one of these came a small, round woman with grey hair piled high in elaborate rolls, wearing a neat dark dress.

‘There you are, sir.’ She trotted to meet them. ‘Todd’s laid out your things. And can I get you anything…?’ Her small twinkling eyes studied Venetia.

‘Mrs Todd, I’ve brought Miss Venetia Forbes back here for a couple of nights. Will you see that she has supper? And give her the room overlooking the back garden, will you? Perhaps you would take her there now, and then come back to me.’

Mrs Todd smiled and nodded. ‘Right, sir. If Miss Forbes would like to come upstairs…’

It was a lovely house, thought Venetia, following Mrs Todd obediently. Not only lovely to look at, but it felt…she sought for a word…like home, warm and welcoming and softly lit. She had no doubt, either, that it was run on oiled wheels. She sighed and Mrs Todd turned round to say kindly, ‘You’re tired, miss. I can see that. A nice supper and then bed—there’s nothing like a night’s sleep to get you on your feet again.’

She opened a door on the balcony above the staircase and ushered Venetia inside. The room was quite large, with a large window draped in old rose chintz; the counterpane on the bed matched exactly, and the rose colour was repeated on the small armchair and the bedside lights. The carpet was thick, a rich cream colour which, reflected Venetia, her housewifely instincts aroused, would be quite a problem to keep pristine. She glanced guiltily at her own shoes and then apologetically at Mrs Todd, who only smiled in a cosy way and led her into the adjoining bathroom.