Читать книгу All Else Confusion - Бетти Нилс - Страница 7

THE TRIP TO Bath was planned for two days ahead, midweek, so that Annis would be back for the weekend to drive her father round the three parishes on Sunday and keep an eye on Emma, Audrey and James.

It was a pity that she hadn’t anything really smart to wear, she decided as she packed an overnight bag; she could wear her tweed suit, a good one although no longer new, and there was a blouse she had had for Christmas which would do, as well as a sweater, and just in case Mrs Duvant changed in the evening, she could take the green wool jersey dress and wear her gold chain with it. She reflected uneasily upon Mrs Duvant’s undoubtedly expensive clothes. She might be a dumpy little woman, but she had been wearing a beautifully cut outfit and doubtless the rest of her wardrobe was as elegant.

Matt drove the Rover, with his aunt in it, over to the Rectory soon after breakfast, declaring that he would walk back through the park. He added a careless: ‘Jake went yesterday, gone to keep an eye on his millions—wish I had half his brains. Father’s quite peevish this morning; no one to discuss the Financial Times with. I bet Jake enjoys himself in town!’

His aunt smiled at him. ‘And why not? I should think he could have any girl he wanted with that handsome face of his. Are we ready to go, Annis my dear? I’m quite looking forward to this next day or two. I hope you are too.’

They drove via Frome and Radstock and Midsummer Norton, through a soft grey morning with a hint of frost in the air, and Bath, as they approached it, looked delightful, its grey stone houses clinging to the hills. Annis made her way through the town and then at Mrs Duvant’s direction turned into a crescent of Regency houses facing a small park. Half way down she was told to stop and pulled up before a narrow tall house with elegant bow windows just like all its neighbours. She had expected to find an unlived-in house, but this one was freshly painted and bore all the signs of careful tenancy. As she opened the car door she saw the house door open and an elderly man cross the pavement to them.

‘Ah, there’s Bates,’ declared Mrs Duvant happily. ‘He and Mrs Bates caretake for me, you know.’ She got out of the car and went to shake him by the hand. ‘And this is Miss Annis Fothergill,’ she told him, ‘come to spend a day or two while I look round the place. I’ve a mind to come back here and live, Bates.’

The elderly man looked pleased. ‘And I’m sure we hope that you do, madam. If you will go in, Mrs Bates will see to you. I’ll bring the cases.’

The door was narrow with a handsome fanlight above it, and opened into a roomy hall with a pretty curved staircase at its back. Annis had time to see that before Mrs Bates bore down upon them; a large, stately woman with twinkling eyes and several chins. She received Mrs Duvant with every sign of delight, made Annis welcome, and ushered them into a small sitting-room, most comfortably furnished and with a bright fire blazing in the hearth.

‘You’ll like a cup of coffee, madam,’ she said comfortably. ‘When you’ve had a rest I’ll take you up to your rooms.’

She sailed away and Mrs Duvant observed: ‘Such a good creature, and a splendid cook.’ She looked around her. ‘Everything looks very nice after all this time. I’d quite forgotten…’

The coffee came and presently Mrs Bates to lead them upstairs and show first Mrs Duvant to a room at the front of the house and then Annis to hers; a charming apartment overlooking the surprisingly large garden at the back. Annis, used to the rather spartan simplicity at the Rectory, poked her head into the adjoining bathroom, smoothed the silken quilt and opened a drawer or two, lined with tissue paper and smelling of lavender. There was a builtin wardrobe too and a couple of small inviting easy chairs. Definitely a room to enjoy, she decided as she tidied herself at the little walnut dressing table, brushed her hair into a glossy curtain, and went downstairs.

Mrs Duvant was in the hall, talking to Bates. ‘There’s an hour or more before lunch, let’s go over the house.’ She was as excited as a small child with a new toy.

So with Mrs Bates sailing ahead of them, and Mrs Duvant trotting behind with Annis beside her, they set off. It was to be no lightning tour—that was obvious from the start. Mrs Duvant stopped every few steps to examine curtains, stooped to inspect carpets and insinuate her round person into cupboards. They started with the dining room, an elegantly furnished room with an oval mahogany table and six charming Adam chairs around it; there were half a dozen more chairs against the walls and a handsome sideboard, on which was displayed a selection of silver gilt. The walls were hung with sea green brocade and almost covered with what Annis took to be family portraits. A delightful room; she could find no fault with it, nor for that matter could its owner.

The drawing-room took a good deal longer; it was a large room with white panelling and a China blue ceiling, ornamented with a good deal of plasterwork, and the furniture was plentiful and elaborate; moreover there were innumerable ornaments scattered about its small tables. Annis found it a little too grand for her taste and uttered a sigh of pleasure at the morning room on the other side of the hall, a simple little room which Mrs Duvant dismissed quickly enough. The sitting room they had already seen and by then it was time for lunch, anyway.

Refreshed by oyster soup, omelette with a side salad and a rich creamy dessert, taken with a glass of white wine, Mrs Duvant declared herself ready to inspect the upper floors. And that took most of the afternoon, what with a long discussion about new curtains for one of the bedrooms, and a meticulous inspection of the linen closet on the top floor, but presently they were sitting by the fire having tea and with the prospect of the evening before them.

‘I’ve got tickets for the concert in the Assembly Rooms, dear,’ observed Mrs Duvant. ‘If we have dinner a little early, we shall be in good time for it. It doesn’t start before half past eight.’

Going to bed much later, Annis decided that there was a lot to be said for such a pleasant way of life—not that she would want to change it for her life at the Rectory, but like any other girl, she sometimes hankered after the fleshpots.

They spent almost all the next day shopping: Mrs Duvant, it seemed, was a great shopper and since money didn’t seem to be any problem to her, she bought several things at prices which made Annis lift her eyebrows, but her companion’s enjoyment was so genuine that she could find no objection, and after all, it was her money, and besides, Annis liked her.

They went to a cinema that evening and the following morning drove back with a firm promise to Bates that Mrs Duvant intended to take up residence in the near future.

They reached the Rectory at teatime and while Annis rang Matt to come over and collect the Rover and his aunt, Mrs Fothergill sat Mrs Duvant down before the fire and plied her with tea and hot buttered toast.

It was when Annis joined them that Mrs Duvant, between bites, announced that she would like Annis to accompany her to Bath. ‘Just for a few weeks,’ she said persuasively. ‘I shall be a little lonely at first—if you could spare her? And if she would like to come?’ She glanced a little anxiously at Annis. ‘It would be a job, of course, I forget things and leave things lying around, and paying bills and so on, so you’d be quite busy, dear. Would forty pounds a week suit you? For about six weeks?’

Two hundred and forty pounds; Mrs Duvant had paid exactly that for a suit in Jaegar’s the day before. A list, expanding every second in Annis’s head, of things which that sum would buy for them all, slowly unrolled itself before Annis’s inward eyes. A washing machine, a new coat for her mother, shoes for the boys, all the tobacco her father could smoke, the dancing slippers little Audrey had set her heart upon… She glanced at her mother and saw that she was doing exactly the same thing. She said promptly: ‘Well, if Mother could manage, I’d love to come, if you think I’d be of any use.’

‘Of course you will. That’s settled, then. You’ve no idea how grateful I am, Annis.’ She paused as the door opened and Matt came in. It wasn’t until the hubbub of small talk had died down that she said: ‘Shall we say on Saturday? That gives you four days. Is that time enough?’

Annis nodded. ‘Plenty. Do I drive you again?’

‘Yes, I think so. I can have the Rover for the time being. We must see about getting a car later on.’ She bustled out on a tide of goodbyes, explaining to Matt as they went.

When the last sounds of the car had died away Mrs Fothergill said: ‘You do want to go, darling? I shall miss you, and so will your father, but it will make a nice change and you’ll have some money.’

‘We’ll have some money,’ Annis corrected her. ‘I’ve already made a list, have you?’

Her mother nodded happily. ‘But it’s your money, Annis. Now tell me, what sort of a house is it?’

Annis began to tell her, and it took quite a time; she hadn’t quite finished when her father came in from a parish council meeting, and she went to get the supper and make sure that the younger ones were doing their homework properly.

Back at the Manor House, Mrs Duvant was writing a letter. She wrote as she did most things, with enthusiasm and a great many flourishes of the pen and she smiled a good deal as she wrote. It was a long letter. She read it through, put it in an envelope and addressed it to Jake Royle, whose godmother she was.

The house at Bath looked very welcoming as Annis drew up before it on Saturday afternoon. It had been a bright, cold day and now that the sun was almost gone there was already a sparkle of frost, but the house blazed with lights, and as they went in Annis noticed the great bowl of daffodils on the hall table and in the little sitting room where they at once went, the window held hyacinths of every colour. There was a vase of roses too, long-stemmed and perfect. Mrs Duvant picked up the card with them and chuckled as she read it, although she didn’t say why.

‘We’d like tea, Bates,’ she said briskly, ‘I know it’s rather late, but perhaps Mrs Bates could put dinner back half an hour?’

So the two of them had tea together round the fire before going upstairs to unpack and get ready for dinner. ‘I always like to change my dress,’ observed Mrs Duvant. ‘Nothing fancy, you know, unless I’m going out, but it somehow makes the evening more of an occasion, if you see what I mean?’

So Annis took the hint and put on the green jersey, wondering as she did so if she might get herself another dress when she was paid. She and her mother had pored over their lists, scratching out and adding until they had spent her wages, on paper at least, to the greatest advantage. Even after everyone had had something there was a little over for herself—enough for a dress—something plain and dateless to take the place of the outworn blue velvet. Doubtless she would have some time to herself in which to browse among the shops. Annis tugged her green jersey into shape with an impatient hand and went downstairs.

She discovered after the first few days that her duties were light in the extreme and consisted mainly in finding Mrs Duvant’s spectacles, handbag, library book and knitting whenever she mislaid them, which was often, reminding her of the various things she wished to do each day, and unpicking her knitting when she got it in a muddle; that was pretty often too. The pair of them got on excellently together and since Annis got on equally well with the Bates’, the household was a happy one.

She had been there a week when the even tenor of her days was unexpectedly shaken. Mrs Duvant had the habit of retiring for an afternoon nap after lunch each day, leaving Annis to do as she wished. Previously she had gone for a brisk walk, done some window shopping and taken herself round the Roman Baths, but this afternoon it was raining, not a soft rain to be ignored, but a steady, icy downpour. Annis decided on a book by the fire as she came downstairs after seeing Mrs Duvant safely tucked up. There were plenty of books in the sitting room and an hour or so with one of them would be very pleasant.

Bates met her on the stairs. ‘Mr Royle has arrived, miss—he’s in the drawing room.’

Annis stood staring at him, her mouth a little open. ‘Mr Royle? What on earth…I didn’t know Mrs Duvant was expecting him.’ She suppressed the little spurt of excitement at the idea of meeting him again and reminded herself that she didn’t like him, which made her voice sound reluctant.

‘I suppose I’d better go…’ her voice trailed off and Bates coughed gently. ‘It would be a pity to disturb Mrs Duvant,’ he reminded her.

Annis took a step down. ‘Yes, of course, Bates.’

She went past him, crossed the hall, opened the drawing room door reluctantly and went unwillingly inside.

Jake Royle was standing, very much at home, before the fire. She said idiotically: ‘Oh, hullo, Bates told me you were here. I’m afraid Mrs Duvant’s having a nap, she always does after lunch.’

‘Yes, I know that.’ He smiled at her, and since it was obvious after a moment that he wasn’t going to say anything else, she plunged into speech.

‘Aren’t you going back to New Zealand?’ she asked.

His firm mouth twitched. ‘Is that where you would consign me, Annis?’

‘Of course not, Mr Royle. Why should I consign you anywhere?’

‘My name is Jake.’ He went on standing there, watching her and she sought feverishly for a topic of conversation. ‘I’m staying with Mrs Duvant,’ she said.

‘Yes, I know that too.’

She frowned. At least he could give a hand with the conversation, the wretch! ‘I expect you’ll be staying for tea? I’m sure Mrs Duvant will want to see you.’

He grinned at her. ‘I’m here for a few days—I visit Aunt Dora from time to time—we’ve known each other since I was a small boy,’ and at the look of surprise on her face: ‘Oh, she’s not a genuine aunt, just an adopted one.’

‘Oh, yes, I see. Perhaps you’d like to see your room?’

He answered her gravely enough, although his eyes danced with amusement.

‘I expect Bates has taken my things upstairs for me. I’d love some tea—we can always have it again when Aunt Dora comes down.’

Annis, intent on being coolly impersonal, only succeeded in looking delightfully flustered as she rang the bell and rather belatedly asked if he would sit down, rather pink now at her lack of manners and a little cross because Jake seemed to have the power to make her feel shy and awkward, something which she, a parson’s daughter, had learned not to be at an early age. And when tea came she was furious to find that her hands shook as she poured it. Jake, observing this, smiled to himself and embarked on a steady flow of small talk which was only interrupted by the arrival of Mrs Duvant, who came trotting in, her round face wreathed in smiles.

‘Now isn’t this nice?’ she aked them. ‘Annis, ring for more tea, will you? And I’ve left my spectacles somewhere… Jake, I hope you can stay for a few days—you’ve got your car with you, I suppose? you can drive us… Ah, thank you, dear, I knew I’d put them down somewhere.’ She paused to pour tea. ‘There’s a concert at the Assembly Rooms this evening, will you come with us?’

Jake agreed lazily. ‘Anything you say, Aunt Dora. I hope it’s not Bach?’

‘Strauss and Schubert and someone singing, but I can’t remember the name.’

‘As long as she’s nice to look at.’

Annis, drinking her unwanted tea, wondered what on earth she should wear; the green or the blue velvet? She had nothing else, and if only she’d known she would have bought that blue crêpe dress, the one she had seen in Milsom Street; after all, she had her first week’s money in her purse. Now it was too late. She knitted her brows; there was no earthly reason why she should fuss over what she should wear. What was good enough for her and Mrs Duvant was good enough for Jake Royle, it couldn’t matter in the least to him what she wore. There would be dozens of pretty girls there, wearing gorgeous outfits. She became aware that they were both looking at her, Mrs Duvant smiling, Jake with his brows lifted in amusement. They must have said something.

‘I’m sorry, did you ask me something?’

‘No, love—I was just telling Jake what a delightful week we’ve had together.’

So why was Jake looking amused? Annis gave him a frosty look and offered him more cake.

She wore the green with the gold chain, and when she went downstairs it was a relief to find that Mrs Duvant was wearing a plain wool dress, and although Jake had changed, the suit he had on was a conservative grey. She had to admit that it fitted him very well. So it should, considering what it had cost to have it made.

Dinner had a slightly festive air, partly due to the champagne Jake had brought with him, and partly owing to Mrs Duvant’s high spirits. She was such a happy person it was impossible to be ill-tempered or miserable in her company.

They set off for the Assembly Rooms presently, in the best of spirits, driving through the rain-swept streets in Jake’s Bentley, Mrs Duvant beside him wrapped in mink, and Annis behind, in her elderly winter coat. She was enjoying herself so much that she had quite forgotten that.

They sat with Mrs Duvant in between them and listened to the excellent orchestra, and later when the singer appeared, and turned out to be not only a very pretty woman but with a glorious voice, Annis couldn’t stop herself from turning a little and peeping at Jake. He wasn’t looking at the singer at all, but at her. He smiled before he looked away, leaving her with the feeling that although she didn’t like him, she was becoming very aware of his charm.

When the concert was over they had a drink before going back to the house and she was nonplussed to find his manner towards her casual to the point of coolness; she must have imagined the warmth of that smile, and anyway, she told herself peevishly, why was she getting all worked up about it? She couldn’t care less what he thought of her.

When they got back she waited merely to ask Mrs Duvant if she needed her for anything before saying goodnight and going to her room. It had been a lovely evening, she told Mrs Duvant, and she had enjoyed herself very much. Her goodnight to Jake was brisk and delivered to his chin, since she wanted to avoid looking at him.

It would be a pity, she thought as she undressed, if he were to upset the gentle pattern of their days, but since he was to stay only a short time, that didn’t really matter. She dismissed him from her thoughts and went to sleep, to dream, most infuriatingly, of him all night.

Mrs Duvant wasn’t at breakfast the next morning, but Jake was. He was at table, reading the paper and making great inroads into eggs and bacon when Annis went down at her usual time. He got to his feet, wished her a friendly good morning, hoped that she had slept well, passed her the coffee pot and resumed his breakfast. Only good manners, she felt, prevented him from picking up his newspaper again.

Instead he carried on a desultory conversation, just sufficient to put her at her ease. Indeed, by the time their meal was finished, she found herself talking to him with something which amounted to pleasure.

‘Aunt Dora wants to visit the American Museum this morning,’ he told her as they left the room together. ‘There’s some embroidery exhibited there she intends to study. You’ll be coming?’ His voice was nicely casual.

‘I expect so, Mrs Duvant likes someone with her, but perhaps if you’re going there…’

He gave her a glance full of amused mockery. ‘My dear Annis, I know absolutely nothing about embroidery.’

She left him in the hall, wishing as she went upstairs that he was as nice as he had been at breakfast all the time, and not just when he felt like it. The way he looked at her with that horrid half-smile… She bounced into her room, dragged a comb ruthlessly through her hair, which didn’t need it anyway, and went along to see how Mrs Duvant did. If it were possible, she would see if she could get out of going out that morning.

It wasn’t possible. Mrs Duvant was so enthusiastic about the outing, pointing out how useful Annis was going to be, although Annis couldn’t quite see why, that she didn’t even suggest it. And as it turned out, Jake was charming, and once they got to the embroidery exhibition, wandered off on his own, leaving Mrs Duvant to exclaim over feather-stitching, smocking and the like while she made Annis write down a variety of notes which she thought might be useful to her later on.

It was during lunch that Jake observed that he would have to go back to London in two days’ time. Annis was shocked at the keen disappointment she felt when he said it; she couldn’t stand the sight of him—well, for most of the time anyway, but she would miss him. Which made it all the stranger that she hesitated about going downstairs again after she had tucked Mrs Duvant up for her post-prandial nap. But as she left Mrs Duvant’s room she saw Jake disappearing out of the front door. She would be able to go downstairs and read by the fire in the small sitting room; she didn’t want him to think that she was avoiding his company—that was if he thought about it at all, nor did she wish to bore him with her own company if he had a mind to be on his own. She found her book and curled up in one of the deep arm chairs drawn up to the cheerful fire.

She had read two pages when the door opened and Jake came in. ‘Ah,’ he said blandly, ‘I had an idea you might have gone into hiding for the afternoon.’

A remark which instantly set her on edge. ‘And why should you think that?’ she wanted to know tartly. ‘I have no reason to hide.’

‘Oh, good, I can’t help feeling that if we see more of each other we may eventually become friends. How about coming to dinner tomorrow evening? We’ll go to Popjoy’s and then go on somewhere to dance.’

A distressing vision of the blue velvet and the green jersey floated before Annis’s eyes. She’d heard of Popjoy’s, it was smart and expensive, and nothing would induce her to go there in either of these garments. With real regret she knew she would have to refuse, and the awful thing was that she actually had the money in her purse to buy that pretty blue crêpe she’d seen, only there was no time in which to buy it.

‘That’s awfully kind of you,’ she said carefully, ‘but I—I’m afraid I can’t accept.’

‘Why not?’

She sought for a good reason in a frenzy and couldn’t think of one. Being a parson’s daughter and the eldest, with a good example to set the others, she had been taught to speak the truth; only if it was going to hurt the hearer was it permissible to prevaricate. Well, she couldn’t see that Jake was going to be hurt. If anyone was, it would be herself, having to admit that she had nothing to wear. She gave him a very direct look and explained: ‘I haven’t got a dress.’ She had pinkened slightly in anticipation of his amusement, but she didn’t look away.

Jake didn’t smile, he said in a calm voice: ‘That’s a problem, but surely we can get round it? Have you got enough money to buy one?’

Strangely she didn’t feel offended at the question. ‘Well, yes—Mrs Duvant paid me, but you see I wouldn’t have time to get to the shops.’

‘Any particular shop?’

‘Jolly’s in Milsom Street.’

‘I take it that if you did have a dress you’d come to dinner with me?’ He wanted to know.

‘I’d like to, that’s if we could…that is, if we wouldn’t get on each other’s nerves.’

He did smile then, but in such a friendly fashion that she smiled back. ‘You never got on my nerves,’ he assured her. ‘Tell me, are you one of those women who take hours to buy something or could you find what you wanted in half an hour or so? Because if you could, we’ll go now: I’ll run you there in the car.’

Annis was out of her chair and making for the door. ‘Give me five minutes!’

The dress was still there. She left Jake browsing in a book shop and went to try it on. The colour was becoming, a shade darker than her eyes, and the dress, although inexpensive, was quite well cut, made of some thick silky material with a chiffon ruffle outlining the neck and the cuffs. Examining herself in the fitting room, Annis decided that it would do very well; it could take the place of the blue velvet and that garment she could consign to the jumble sale. She didn’t think it was quite the sort of dress Jake’s girl-friends would wear, but since she wasn’t one of them that didn’t matter. She paid for it and on the way out spent most of the change on a pair of bronze sandals going cheap but nonetheless elegant.

Jake was still in the bookshop, but he picked up the armful of books he had bought when he saw her and took the dress box from her. ‘Twenty minutes,’ he remarked. ‘Not bad. Did you find what you wanted?’

‘Yes. I hope it’ll do. We don’t go out much at home and I don’t often buy that kind of dress.’

Jake gave her a quick look. If the deplorable blue velvet had been anything to go by, he could not but agree with her. ‘I’m sure it will be very charming,’ he said comfortably. ‘If you’ve got all you want, we’ll go back. Aunt Dora will be wanting her tea.’

She was waiting for them, sitting in the small straightbacked chair she favoured, leafing through a pile of fashion magazines.

‘Such a pity I’m all the wrong shape,’ she greeted them. Her eyes fell on the dress box. ‘You’ve been shopping—how delightful! Do let me see.’

‘Since you’re playing bridge tomorrow evening, Aunt Dora, I’ve asked Annis out to dinner.’ Jake had strolled over to the fire with his back to Annis, busy undoing her purchase.

‘Now that is a good idea,’ enthused Mrs Duvant. ‘Hold it up, dear.’

Annis did so, suddenly doubtful because in the splendidly furnished room with Mrs Duvant’s wildly expensive outfit it looked what it was; a pretty inexpensive dress off the peg. But she was reassured at once by Mrs Duvant’s warm admiration. ‘Oh, very nice,’ she declared, ‘and such a lovely colour. Shoes?’ She had glanced down at Annis’s sensible low heels.

‘Well, just as I was leaving the shop I saw these.’ Annis produced the sandals and the two ladies examined them. ‘They were going cheap and they’ll be useful, because if I ever buy another dress, they’ll go with almost anything.’

This ingenuous remark brought a smile to Jake’s mouth; it was a very gentle smile and amused too. He had thought, when he first met Annis, that she was a bossy elder sister, prone to good works and with far too good an opinion of herself. That she was quite beautiful too, he had admitted without hesitation, but he hadn’t quite believed her occasional dreaminess and her apparent contentment at the Rectory. Now he admitted that he had been quite wrong; she had made no effort to impress him—indeed, she had avoided him, she dealt with Mrs Duvant’s endless small wants without as much as a frown, and he had been touched by her frank admission that she couldn’t go out with him because she hadn’t got a dress. He reflected ruefully that any of the girls he knew who had said that to him would have expected him to have taken them out and bought them one—and nothing off the peg either. He rather thought that if he had suggested to Annis that he would pay she would have thrown something at him. For all her sensible calmness he fancied that at times that red hair of hers might exert itself.

That evening after dinner they played poker, a game Annis had to be taught and which she picked up with ease, rather to Jake’s surprise, until Mrs Duvant remarked that it was only to be expected from a girl who had five A-levels to her credit, and one of these pure Maths. He just stopped himself asking her why she hadn’t gone on to university, because of course, even with a grant, that would have cost money, and there were Edward and James to educate.

They played for high stakes, using the haricot beans Bates brought from the kitchen, and although Jake made a fortune in no time at all, Annis wasn’t far behind him. Mrs Duvant, her black eyes snapping with pleasure, lost over and over again and when they at last called a halt, thanked heaven that she had been playing with beans and not money. But it had been good fun. Annis carefully gathered up the beans and returned them to Bates before going upstairs to bed with Mrs Duvant, leaving Jake by the fire, a briefcase of papers on the floor beside him, and a glass of whisky on the table.

The next morning Mrs Duvant announced that she had a wedding present to buy for a friend’s daughter, and since Jake said that he had some work to do, she and Annis went to the shops together. It took almost all the morning, trying to decide between table linen and silver tea knives. In the end Mrs Duvant, never one to cavil over money, bought both.

And after lunch Jake went back to his work and since Mrs Duvant had retired for her usual nap, Annis got into her outdoor things and went for a walk in the park. It was a chilly, blustery day and somehow it suited her mood; she was feeling vaguely restless, but she couldn’t think why. Everything was all right at home; she had a letter that morning, in another day or two there would be forty pounds in her pocket and she had no worries. She came to the conclusion that Jake’s visit had unsettled her. She had never met anyone like him before; Matt she had grown up with and treated much as she treated her brothers, but Jake made her feel selfconscious and shy, although she had to admit that she was beginning to enjoy his company. She marched briskly into the teeth of the wind and went back presently, her face rosy with fresh air and with a splendid appetite for her tea.

Seen under the soft lighting of her bedroom the blue crêpe looked nice; so did the sandals. It was a pity that she had to wear her winter coat, but she didn’t suppose that would matter overmuch; no one would see it. She went downstairs with it over her arm, admiring the sandals as she went.

‘Very nice,’ declared Jake from the hall. ‘Stunning, in fact. What’s more, you’re beautifully prompt.’

He was in the clerical grey again, looking older and very assured. Looking at him, Annis felt sure that the evening would go without a hitch; he would be a man able to get the best table in the restaurant and instant attention. She said thank you rather shyly and went to say goodnight to Mrs Duvant.

She had been quite right, she told herself as she got ready for bed in the early hours of the next morning; the evening had been one to remember, for her at any rate—although it seemed likely that Jake had spent so many similar evenings with other, more interesting companions, that he would probably forget it at once.

Popjoys was the kind of place she had read about in the Harpers Mrs Avery occasionally lent her. In a Beau Nash house where its guests drank their aperitifs in the elegant drawing-room before going to the equally elegant dining room, it was a world she had never expected to enter. They had eaten mousseline of salmon, spiced chicken with apricots and finished with chocolate soufflé, and just as she had guessed, they had a well placed table for two and the proprietor had welcomed them warmly, conjuring up wine waiter and waiter and recommending the best dishes. Her mouth watered at the thought of the salmon. The wine had been nice too; she had almost no knowledge of wines and beyond Jake’s careless: ‘I think we’ll drink hock, shall we?’ he didn’t bother her about it. She drank what was in her glass and found it delicious. By the time dinner was finished she felt very happy about everything, and when Jake suggested that they might dance somewhere for an hour or two she had agreed very readily. Her sleepy head on the pillow, she couldn’t quite remember where they had gone; an hotel in the town, although she hadn’t noticed its name. They had had a table there too and Jake had ordered some wine, but they had got up to dance before it was brought and since the floor wasn’t crowded and the band was good they went on dancing for quite some time.