Betty Neels - Once For All Time

He nodded. ‘There are some things I brought back with me. I’ll take them upstairs to your parents’ room, if I may—you can deal with those later.’ He pulled her gently to her feet. ‘Now we’d better go back, hadn’t we? Is Johnson staying the night?’

‘Oh, no. He’s got a list in the morning, but I’m sure he’ll come again.’ The doctor didn’t say anything, only opened the door and he ushered her out. Crossing the hall, he observed; ‘Mr Trent will want to go home, I expect, and since Johnson is here, I’ll not need to stay any longer.’

His words were a disappointment to her. There wasn’t any more to be said, she knew that, but he was such a comfort to have around the house and he knew exactly what had to be done and did it with a quiet competence which he made no effort to advertise.

‘You won’t stay to supper?’ she asked.

‘No need, with Johnson to keep you company; you’ll have all the evening together.’

Clotilde said ‘Yes,’ rather doubtfully and led the way back to the others.

Almost the whole village turned out for the funeral, although only a few people, about a dozen or so, went back to the house afterwards. Bruce had been there, of course, solicitous in his care of her, very much in charge, and she was grateful for that. Dr Thackery had been there too, a quiet figure in the background who had made his excuses once they reached the house again and gone off, brushing aside her thanks. ‘Don’t come back until you feel that you can cope—on the other hand, don’t stay here and mope. Is there anyone to keep Rosie company while you’re at St Alma’s?’

Clotilde was grateful for his concern for her loyal friend. ‘She’s got a niece— I’m sure she’d come and stay for a little while.’ She smiled at him. ‘You think of everything, don’t you?’ She offered her hand. ‘Thank you again, Dr Thackery. I’ll be back on the ward quite soon— I— I’ll need to fill my days.’

She watched him go with a pang of regret.

Mr Trent was waiting for her. ‘My dear, if you can spare ten minutes—people are leaving already, I see. There is the will…’

Half an hour later Clotilde left Bruce sitting by the fire and went with Mr Trent into the study. He sat himself down at the desk and when she had taken a chair opposite him, started to talk. He took a long time to come to the point, and she wondered why. A small legacy for Rosie, that was to be expected, and the remainder for her sister and herself. ‘Only it isn’t quite as simple as that,’ he observed cautiously. ‘This will was made many years ago and since then there have been changes. Rosie’s legacy is intact, I’m glad to say, but I’m afraid that the rest… Your father mortgaged this house up to the hilt, and unfortunately, your parents were only insured for the first week of their holiday. I have no idea why, but there it is. There is virtually no capital and of course there will be the foreclosure on the house.’ He added with sympathy in his dry old voice: ‘I’m afraid you are practically penniless, my dear.’

Clotilde sat and stared at him. The unexpectedness of it numbed her brain. ‘But I can’t be! Father said Bruce should have the money to buy a practice when we marry…’

‘Yes, he told me that, and in order to avoid making a new will, he put almost every penny of his capital into an enterprise started by an acquaintance of his. I warned him at the time, but if it had succeeded, the profits would have been substantial, and your father gambled on that.’

‘Oh, poor Father! There’s no chance…?’

‘None, my dear.’

‘I don’t know just how much it was, but Dr Thackery arranged everything—he must be paid, of course, even if I have to do it monthly out of my salary.’

Mr Trent coughed and shuffled the papers before him, remembering the conversations he had had with the doctor during their mission. ‘There will be sufficient funds to meet all expenses,’ he assured her blandly. ‘There are a few debts of a trifling nature, household expenses, you know. When they are settled there will be a few hundreds for you and your sister. I’m very sorry, Clotilde, indeed I am. There is one thing—these things take time; you will be able to live here for some months yet.’ He put his papers in his briefcase. ‘I shall, of course, keep in touch with you and you have only to let me know if you need advice or help. Your father and mother were good friends of mine.’

Clotilde said in a tight voice; ‘Yes, they had a great number of friends. They were happy here.’ She didn’t dare say more; the thought of leaving the old house almost choked her.

Mr Trent was in no hurry to go. He sat for a time, talking gently about nothing in particular, and she was surprised to see that he had been with her for an hour when he finally got up from his chair. She went with him to his car, thanked him for his kindness, assured him that she and Rosie would be all right, and stood on the step until he had driven sedately away.

She would have to tell Bruce. Her heart sank at the thought; it would be a bitter blow to him—to them both. Bruce had no family to offer to help and nor had she. It would mean that he would have to go as an assistant in a practice and she would have to go on working, even if they married. Certainly it put paid to Sir Oswald’s offer. She lifted her head and walked quickly into the sitting room. The quicker she told him, the better.

The room was empty and after a moment she went along to the kitchen; he might be there with Rosie. But he wasn’t. Rosie was sitting in her shabby old chair by the Aga with Tinker at her feet.

‘There you are, love. Dr Johnson waited as long as he could. He said he simply had to get back to the hospital.’

‘But he didn’t say…’ Clotilde didn’t finish what she was going to say; there was no point in feeling hurt and surprised. Bruce was a busy man, and his time was seldom his own. ‘Oh, well,’ she said with forced cheerfulness, ‘we’ll have that marvellous meal together, Rosie. There are some things I have to tell you too.’

She told Rosie everything, and why not? She had been with the family for so long that she was part of it. At first she refused the annuity. ‘Better you had it, Miss Tilly— I’ve got my niece to go to and next year I’ll have the old age pension.’

‘No, Rosie, Father and Mother wanted you to have it— I’ve got quite a good salary, you know, and I live at the hospital. There’s one thing, Mr Trent says we shan’t have to go for several months, that’ll give us time to get things straightened out.’

‘You’ll be getting married, no doubt. Nothing to wait for, is there?’

Clotilde hesitated. ‘Well, Rosie, it’s like this— Bruce wants to buy himself into a practice. It was all arranged, Father was going to give us the money when we married, but of course, that’s not possible now.’

‘Maybe not, Miss Tilly, but Dr Johnson’s got a good steady job, hasn’t he? And I suppose you could go on working until the babies come.’

‘Yes, yes, I suppose so. We’ll have to talk about it. I’ll be seeing him soon, I expect. Did he say if he was going to phone?’

Rosie shook her head. ‘Not a word. To tell you the truth, he was a mite put out because you were so long with Mr Trent. Said his time was valuable and he couldn’t hang around for hours.’

A bit different, thought Clotilde, from the Bruce who had been the picture of efficient, caring concern in front of all those who had come to the funeral. She checked her thoughts with something of a shock; he had been kind and thoughtful and he was a busy man, it must have been difficult for him to have got away from St Alma’s even for a few hours. She hated herself for being disloyal and promised herself she would ring him up presently and thank him for coming.