The Chain of Destiny (12 page)

He was exactly on time the next morning, and they wasted very little time on goodbyes. Mijnheer van Dijl was already at his office, but his wife thanked Suzannah, kissed her and pressed a small packet into her hands. ‘You have been so good,' she murmured. Julie trailed down in her dressing-gown to kiss the professor and shake Suzannah's hand with a casual, ‘Well, have fun wherever you are going. I won't stay; I must get ready for Evert.'

‘I hope you'll be very happy,' said Suzannah, and got
into the car, with the professor taking her case to stow in the boot.

The journey was smooth and untroubled; the professor travelled without fuss, but with every detail dealt with in advance. It was as they were nearing London in a dark early evening that she said, ‘If you would drop me at Charing Cross station…'

He interrupted her. ‘Certainly not, at this time of the day. There is no question of you traipsing around London on your own. It will be best if you come back with me for the night; you can go to your friend's house in the morning, and then come back and collect Horace.'

‘There is no need…' began Suzannah in what she hoped was a firm voice.

‘Don't argue.'

It was obvious to her that nothing she said would alter his plan, so she said, ‘Very well, Professor,' in such a meek voice that he laughed.

They arrived at his house soon after that, and she was ushered into its warmth and in no time at all found herself sitting opposite to him at an oval dining-table in an elegant dining-room, eating delicious food Mrs Cobb had conjured up without any sign of fuss. And when they had finished she was taken to the kitchen to see Horace. He looked sleek and content, but he was pleased to see her. He lived in great comfort, that was obvious, and she wondered how he would like the humbler home she hoped to find for them. The professor had gone to his study and she explained that in the morning she would go and see her friend, now so vivid in her imagination that she seemed real. ‘And then I'll come back for Horace; I expect it will be after lunch…'

‘That's all right, miss. The professor won't be here, but he said to expect you.'

Presently they said goodnight and Suzannah went out into the hall. She had been shown her room when they had arrived and she started up the stairs, uncertain whether to knock on the study door. It opened while she stood trying to make up her mind, and the professor stuck his head out.

‘Going to bed? Sleep well. I shall be gone early and shan't be back until late in the evening. Collect Horace when you like; I've told Cobb to drive the pair of you and your case to your friend's house. Just let him know when you want to go.'

She said faintly, ‘Oh, but there's no need,' and at his, ‘Don't argue,' didn't finish but uttered her thanks for the journey. ‘It was very kind of you,' she finished. ‘Goodbye, Professor Bowers-Bentinck.'

He came out into the hall and stood looking up at her. ‘We say goodbye rather frequently, don't we?' He added with a touch of impatience, ‘Let me know if you need help. Have you sufficient money to keep you until you find a job?'

‘Yes, thank you.' London was very much dearer than her own small village; she pushed the worrying thought away and said cheerfully, ‘And I can stay with my friend…'

He eyed her narrowly and was about to speak when the study door was pushed wide and a dachshund trotted out and sat down beside the professor. ‘You haven't met Henry—come and say hello to him.'

She crossed the space between them and stooped to pat the little dog.

‘Hello and goodbye, Henry,' she said, and rubbed a silky ear.

She stood up and offered a hand to the professor. ‘Goodbye, Professor.'

He took her hand and bent and kissed her; she had been kissed before, though not often, casual kisses which had meant nothing, but this was different. The thought flashed through her mind that he was an older man, a man of the world, and must have had years of practice. It would be delightful to be kissed like that every day; she would have to be content with once in a lifetime. She said goodnight and goodbye in a brisk voice and went upstairs without a backward glance, reminding herself that there were a great many things about him that she didn't like; she couldn't call any of them to mind just at that moment, but she would certainly remember them later.

A pleasant girl brought her tea in the morning, told her that breakfast would be in half an hour and suggested she go to the breakfast-room on the left of the hall and warned her that it looked like snow. ‘Just right,' she said cheerfully, ‘with Christmas so near.'

Suzannah was met at the bottom of the stairs by Cobb with a cheerful good morning and the hope that she had slept well. ‘I understand that you'll be going to your friend, miss. When you come back for Horace, I'm to drive you wherever you wish to go.'

She thanked him nicely and worried about it while she ate a splendid breakfast, went to say hello to Horace and presently got into her outdoor things and left the house.

It was now that she needed a kindly fate to step in and give her a hand, but in the meanwhile she would study the situations vacant columns of the daily press. She went into the first newsagents she came across once she had left the calm backwater where the professor lived, and, armed with several newspapers, walked on in the direction of Regent Street and in a small side street found a small, rather seedy café. With a cup of
coffee before her, she opened the first of the papers and began searching.

Fate had decided to be kind; her eyes lighted upon an urgent demand for a young educated woman to help at a nursery school close to the Tottenham Court Road. The position was vacant due to illness and an address was added.

She left her coffee and crossed to the counter. ‘Is Felix Road, just off the Tottenham Court Road, far from here?' she asked the man behind the coffee machine.

He scratched his head. ‘Felix Road—that'll be near the ‘ospital. Get on the underground to Goodge Street, it'll be close by. Yer can take a bus if yer want.' He thought a minute and told her the number. ‘Might be ‘andier.'

She thanked him and set off smartly, found a bus stop, caught a bus and presently got off again when the conductor warned her. She found Felix Road without much trouble; a narrow street in the warren of similar streets between the underground station and the hospital. The nursery school was half-way down it, a tall brick house needing a coat of paint, its neighbours on either side, apparently empty, even shabbier. But the windows were clean and curtained, and the neighbourhood was more or less traffic-free. She mounted the steps to the front door and rang the bell.

She could hear children's voices from behind the door, and someone singing nursery rhymes, and when the door opened the woman standing there was reassuringly middle-aged and motherly.

She eyed Suzannah. ‘Yes?' she asked.

‘There is an advertisement,' began Suzannah, and before she could say more she was invited in.

‘Perhaps it is already filled?'

The older woman held out a hand. ‘Mrs Willis, I own this place.'

‘Suzannah Lightfoot.'

They shook hands and the woman said, ‘No, there have been several girls after it, but it's too much like hard work for most, and they don't like the idea of living here.'

She opened a door in the hall. ‘Come in and I'll explain.'

They sat facing each other across a small table in the rather bare room. ‘I've lost two of my helpers in the last week: one is ill, the other got married. There are thirty children here, toddlers; most of the mothers work at the hospital and the toy museum down the road. They come at eight o'clock in the morning and most of the kids are called for by six o'clock each evening. It's hard work and the pay's not much—it's not state-run—'

She mentioned a sum which Suzannah thought she could manage on if she were careful. ‘There's a bedsit in the basement, and you'd have to live in. Sundays off and most Saturday afternoons. It's quiet here, not a bad area, although it's a bit run-down. I live at the top of the house, but I must warn you that once I'm there of an evening, I don't want to be disturbed.' She stared across the table at Suzannah. ‘Have you references?'

Suzannah handed them over. A letter from Lady Manbrook, another one from Mijnheer van Dijl and one from the vicar at home. Mrs Willis read them carefully. ‘Done any teaching?'

‘No. I have four A-levels and have been offered a place at a university. I couldn't take it up because the aunt I lived with became ill.'

‘I usually check references, but I'm pretty desperate for help. How do you feel about coming here? A month's trial?'

‘I should like to work here. I have a cat; may he live here in the bed-sitting-room?'

‘Why not, as long as he's not a nuisance? You'd better come and see the place.'

She led the way out of the front door and down the area steps to another door beneath them, took a key from her pocket and unlocked it. The room was rather dark and cold, but it was clean, with a small gas stove in one corner and a door leading to a toilet and shower-room. The furniture was sparse and cheap, but the curtains were cheerful and there was a small gas fire in front of the old-fashioned grate.

‘It's rent-free,' said Mrs Willis. ‘Goes with the job. You can bring any bits and pieces of your own.'

‘I haven't any. I'd like the job, Mrs Willis, and I could move in today if you would like me to. If I could have an hour or two to settle in and get some milk and bread and food, I could start first thing in the morning.'

‘Want the job that bad?'

‘Yes, I do. And I'll work hard.'

Mrs Willis smiled. ‘Let's hope you can kept it up. We don't have holidays here like the schools. I close on Christmas Day and Boxing Day and at Easter for a couple of days, but the women around here work most of their days and there's nowhere to take the kids. Any plans for Christmas?'

‘None, Mrs Willis.'

‘Good. I'm going over to my sister's at Northolt as soon as the last child's gone on Christmas Eve, and I'll be back late on Boxing Day. Mind being here alone?'

‘No, I don't think so.'

‘The houses on either side, they're used as warehouses for small firms, but there are folk living across the street and further down the road.'

She handed Suzannah a key. ‘Let yourself out and come back when you're ready. You'd better see round the place then. I can't spare the time now.'

Well, she had a job and somewhere to live, thought Suzannah on her way back to the professor's house. Not ideal, but better than nothing, and since she was to be paid weekly she could afford to lay out some of the money she had on a store of groceries and one or two small comforts.

She had some difficulty in persuading Cobb to allow her to leave in the taxi she had prudently hired. ‘I don't know what the professor will say,' he said worriedly. ‘I was to see you safe and sound at your friend's house…'

‘Well, he didn't know—and nor did I—that my friend would get a taxi to bring me back here to collect Horace and my things. It's outside now, waiting. Could you explain that to the professor? And tell him that I've got a good job with a nice little flatlet.' She shook his hand. ‘Thank you and Mrs Cobb, and please thank the professor for me; I'll write to him.'

So Cobb had let her go, looking doubtful still and presently she was back in the basement room, making a list of the things she would need, with Horace, glad to see her but not best pleased with his surroundings, sitting suggestively before the unlit fire.

She put fifty pence in the slot and lit it before she hurried out to the few shops she had seen at the end of the street. At that hour of the afternoon there weren't many shoppers; she bought what she needed, prudently stocking up on tins of soup, then she ordered milk and collected bread and food for Horace and hurried back again. With the curtains drawn and the light on, the room didn't look too bad. She fed Horace and made a cup of tea for herself, filled the hot-water bottle she had
bought and put it in the divan bed in one corner and went back up the steps to the front door.

It was open now and there were women coming and going, collecting children after their day's work. Mrs Willis saw the last of them away, said goodnight to a dispirited-looking girl who followed them out and who, it transpired, was another teacher, and led Suzannah round the house. The rooms were given over to the children: four quite large rooms on the ground floor, although with two helpers short she and the girl had been managing between them in two of the rooms. ‘We'll split the children up tomorrow, that will mean ten or twelve each. They play and learn a bit until noon, then they have their dinners and you and Melanie take it in turns to keep an eye on them all while they rest for an hour. So every other day you'll get a bit of free time for shopping. We close at five o'clock, though sometimes I'll keep a child until six if the mother can't get here before then.'

All the while she had been talking she had been marching round the house, pointing out where everything was kept. It was all very clean and there were small hand-basins in the cloakroom and a long, low table with small chairs for the children's meals.

‘You and Melanie eat with the children, but you get your own tea and take it in turns to have it. We open at eight o'clock, so have your breakfast first.'

They were back at the front door again. ‘I said before that it's hard work but I treat you fairly, and if you can't stick it, just say so.'

It was nice to have Horace to talk to; Suzannah aired her plans and doubts to him while she got her supper ready. The contrast between their new home and her comfortable bedroom at the van Dijls' was cruel, but
that was something she could remedy, given time and money; in the meantime, she assured him, they would be cosy enough. He was a docile cat and had quickly discovered that, although he might go into the concreted area, that was his limit. She arranged an old woolly scarf before the fire and he curled up without fuss.