A Star Looks Down Part 7

She was intent on the latest fas.h.i.+ons, when the profess or came in-in a dinner jacket again, so he would be going somewhere rather splendid; the girl-friend, if Marineka was to be believed, would be the kind of girl who expected--and got--only VIP treatment.

When he said: "Hullo, Elizabeth.

How about a sherry before I go?

' it was surprising how all at once her world became fun, but he didn't sit down, only perched on the arm of a chair, talking about the children, telling her that their mother was making good progress, commenting on their afternoon in a casually friendly manner until he looked at his watch and put down his gla.s.s.

"I must go," he told her, 'although I would much rather be staying quietly here and dining with you.

' And when he saw her face: "You don't believe me, do you?

When you know me better you will find that I am not given to making impulsive remarks, although I daresay that if my deeper feelings were involved it might be otherwise.

You're a very restful person, Elizabeth, as well as being a good and intelligent listener.

' She considered him thoughtfully.

"I should have thought after a busy week in theatre you would enjoy relaxing in the company of some pretty girl who hadn't the least idea what a kidney transplant was and didn't care either.

' He had strolled to the door.

"I'm taking the children to see their mother tomorrow morning," was all he said.

"Please feel free to do exactly what you like until lunch-time.

Good night, my dear Miss Partridge.

' She sat staring at the door, closing soundlessly behind him.

A snub, even if a gentle one; she must have annoyed him in some way.

Probably he considered that she had been too familiar--after all, his private life was nothing to do with her and men were p.r.o.ne to fits of uppish ness; besides, she kept forgetting the fact that he was a consultant, an important one, and from the appearance of his house, a wealthy one at that; they had little in common, only their work.

She really would have to try and remember that he had employed her as a nanny and do her best to behave like one.

She wasn't quite sure what he expected of her the next morning; she got up with the children and saw to their breakfasts, then when he came into the dining room, excused herself on the plea of getting their outdoor things ready and went upstairs, to be followed very shortly by Alberdina, stumping along on her short legs and demanding to wear her best coat, and the other three followed her shortly afterwards.

Beth sent them all downstairs presently, ready to go out, clutching the variety of gifts they had for their mother, and when the front door shut behind them she went back to her room where she stood looking rather aimlessly out of the window.

It was a splendid morning again and to stay indoors was unthinkable; the vague idea of going back to the flat and getting a meal for William--doing his was.h.i.+ng, perhaps, took shape in her head and became a certainty.

She put on her jacket, found her handbag and gloves, ran down to the kitchen to tell Mrs Silver where she was going, and slipped out of the house.

It was quiet in the Sunday streets and she had to wait a little while for a bus, but when it did arrive it was almost empty, so that it rattled along without any of the tiresome stops which plagued a weekday traveller.

It was still early as she unlocked the flat door, and a good thing it was, she told herself ruefully, looking round at William's hopeless attempts at housekeeping.

She took off her jacket, found a pinny, and got to work, only pausing for a cup of coffee after she had done the was.h.i.+ng.

Hoovered and dusted and made his bed.

A meal was the next thing; she made a shepherd's pie with a tin of corned beef, opened a tin of fruit, laid the table, left a brief note, and with one last look around, left the flat.

It was barely twelve o'clock and there was plenty of time to get back to the profess or's house and resume her guardians.h.i.+p of the children at lunchtime.

Mrs Silver answered the doorbell, ushering her in with a gentle flow of inconsequential chatter which took them across the hall to the foot of the staircase, where they were interrupted by Dirk, coming out of the sitting room.

"Uncle Alexander says will you please come in here," he asked her, and as she followed him, shattered at having mistimed her morning so badly: "Have you been out?

We've been back ages--we're playing Scrabble.

' She looked guiltily across the room to where the profess or was lying on the handsome carpet, his chin propped on a hand, frowning over the game.

"I'm so sorry," she began.

"I didn't know you would be back so early--you said the morning, and I foolishly supposed.

' "Forgive me getting up, Elizabeth, and you haven't been in the least foolish; I did indeed say until lunch-time, and I meant it.

You have, in fact, almost an hour in which to do as you wish, but if you can bear to join us, we shall be delighted, although I should warn you that I shall be out for the rest of the day, so if you wish to savour the last of your freedom, we shall quite understand.

Lunch is at a quarter past one.

' She laughed then and the children laughed with her.

"I love Scrabble," she declared, and got down on her knees opposite the profess or.

"You have been out?

' he queried gently.

"Well, yes.

I popped back to the flat.

' "William is a lucky fellow," he murmured.

"I daresay you made his bed, cleaned the place from attic to cellar and cooked his dinner.

' It was her turn, so she didn't answer him at once.

"I like doing it," she told him matter-of factly, and knew that that wasn't quite true; she liked doing it up to a certain point, but just now and again she longed never to see the dingy little place again; to live in a gracious house like the one she was in at the present moment; to go shopping and buy whatever she wanted with money she hadn't spent months saving.

"It's your turn," she warned him.

Beth didn't see the profess or for the rest of the day, indeed, she didn't see him until the Monday evening.

She had got the children to bed after what she was bound to admit had been a highly successful day, for they had been good; true, they had bickered and quarrelled, but only in the normal way of brothers and sisters, but they had done anything she had asked of them and eaten their meals without too much fuss.

She had done her best to keep them occupied for as much of the day as possible and it seemed she had succeeded, for now they were in bed, nicely tired.

She was nicely tired too.

She ate her solitary dinner and wondered about the profess or; he would have had a ward teaching round that morning and probably a lecture as well, but the theatre list hadn't been too bad, she had seen it before she had left on the Friday, although in all probability it had bulged with emergencies before the end of the day.

Perhaps he wasn't coming home; he might have gone out again with the girl who was so well dressed and always wore different clothes each time he saw her.

Beth admitted to a dislike of the unknown charmer, a thought which naturally enough led her to get up and study herself in the gilt framed mirror between the windows of the sitting room, with the futile wish that she could have been beautiful--a wish which brought her no comfort at all.

She was turning her back on her unsatisfactory reflection when the profess or walked in and she forgot her own small vexations at once; he looked tired, and his craggy, handsome face was haggard.

"You've had a bad day," she said at once.

"What happened?

there wasn't a transplant this morning.

' Her beautiful eyes searched his, she looked and sounded like an anxious, loving wife, and a tiny flicker of tender amus.e.m.e.nt came and went in his eyes although he answered seriously enough: "The girl--remember her?

She had a bad setback this morning; luckily we were all there and able to deal with it at once, but it took the greater part of the day.

' "She'll be all right?

' "I hope so; she's on sunflower seed oil, as you know, and we're pretty sure it isn't a reject, more likely an infection.

With luck she'll pull through.

' "You've had no dinner?

' and when he shook his head, "And no lunch either, I'll be bound.

Shall I ask Mrs Silver to get something for you?

' "She heard my key in the door and rushed away to get something ready.

Will you come and sit with me while I eat it, Elizabeth?

' She went with him into the dining room; of course he would want to tell her about the case; she had learned to listen to William a long time ago.

He had told her once that she was a good listener because she didn't interrupt or ask silly questions and understood what he was talking about; she hoped the profess or would find her all of those things.

Mrs Silver must have moved like lightning, for the table was already laid.

The profess or went over to a side table and poured himself a whisky and turned to Beth.

"You'll have a gla.s.s of sherry, or do you prefer Madeira?

' She hadn't had that since she had lived at home; she accepted a gla.s.s and went to sit in a crinoline chair beside the vast sideboard, but when Mrs Silver returned with a tray and set a plate of soup before the profess or he begged her to join him at the table, so she took the chair beside his and listened quietly while he told her about his day.

He had finished his soup, the delicious Sole Mo may which followed it, and eaten most of one of Mrs Silver's fruit tarts before he had told her everything, and because he wanted to explain a particular underwater drainage he had decided upon, he pushed his plate to one side and started drawing diagrams on the back of an envelope.

And Beth listened carefully and studied his drawings closely; it was more than likely that sooner or later she would need to know all about it.

She was studying his diagrams closely when she was startled to hear him say: "You really are a dear girl; here have I been boring on and you haven't yawned once.

' She looked up to smile at him.

"Why should I yawn?

I'm interested--it's my work too, you know, in a lesser degree.

' He nodded.

"You plan to stay in hospital?

You have no thought of marrying?

' She grinned engagingly.

"No thought at all.

You see, I'm not very well endowed.

A plain girl with some money might get married, but a plain girl without any doesn't stand much of a chance.

If I were pretty it would be easy enough to get married.

Men," stated Beth seriously, 'like pretty girls.

' He was peeling a peach, now he put it on a plate and handed it to her and began one one for himself.

"Of course men like pretty girls; it would be a strange world if we didn't.

' He smiled suddenly.

"The children think you're pretty, did you know that?

' "No--and how nice of you to tell me; people usually keep nice things to themselves and pa.s.s on the nasty remarks.

' "You sound bitter, dear girl.