Always And Forever (15 page)

Oliver, immersed in his work and thoughts of Amabel, dismissed Miriam's various invitations and suggestions that they might spend an evening together with good-
mannered friendliness; he didn't believe seriously that Miriam wanted anything more than his company from time to time; she had men-friends enough.

He underestimated her, though. Miriam drove herself to Aldbury, parked the car away from the centre of the village and found her way to the church. The village shop would have been ideal ground from which to glean information, but there was the risk of meeting Amabel. Besides, people in the village might talk.

The church was old and beautiful, but she didn't waste time on it. Someone—the vicar, she supposed—was coming down the aisle towards her, wanting to know if he could help her…

He was a nice elderly man, willing to talk to this charming lady who was so interested in the village. ‘Oh, yes,' he told her, ‘there are several old families living in the village, their history going back for many years.'

‘And those lovely cottages with thatched roofs—one of them seems a good deal larger than the rest?'

‘Ah, yes, that would be Lady Haleford's house. A very old family. She has been ill and is very elderly. She was in hospital for some time, but now I'm glad to say she is at home again. There is a very charming young woman who is her companion. We see her seldom, for she has little spare time, although Lady Haleford's nephew comes to visit his aunt and I have seen the pair of them walking the dogs. He was here recently, so I'm told, and took her out for the evening…! How I do ramble on, but living in a small village we tend to be interested in each other's doings. You are touring this part of the country?'

‘Yes, this is a good time of year to drive around the countryside. I shall work my way west to the Cotswolds,'
said Miriam, untruthfully. ‘It's been delightful talking to you, Vicar, and now I must get back to my car and drive on.'

She shook hands and walked quickly back to her car, watched by several ladies in the village shop, whose sharp eyes took in every inch of her appearance.

She drove away quickly and presently pulled up on the grass verge the better to think. At first she was too angry to put two thoughts together. This was no passing attraction on Oliver's part; he had been seeing this girl for some time now and his interest was deep enough to cause him to seek her out. Miriam seethed quietly. She didn't love Oliver; she liked him enough to marry him and she wanted the things the marriage would bring to her: a handsome husband, money, a lovely home and the social standing his name and profession would give her.

She thumped the driving wheel in rage. Something would have to be done, but what?

Q
UIET
though the routine of Lady Haleford's household was, Christmas, so near now, was not to be ignored. Cards were delivered, gifts arrived, visitors called to spend ten minutes with the old lady, and Amabel trotted round the house arranging and rearranging the variety of pot plants they brought with them.

It was all mildly exciting, but tiring for the invalid, so that Amabel needed to use all her tact and patience, coaxing callers to leave after the briefest of visits, and even then Lady Haleford exhibited a mixture of lethargy and testiness which prompted her to get the doctor to call.

He was a rather solemn man who had looked after the old lady for years, and he now gave it as his opinion that, Christmas or no Christmas, his patient must revert to total peace and quiet.

‘The occasional visitor,' he allowed, and Amabel was to use her discretion in turning away more than that.

Amabel said, ‘Lady Haleford likes to know who calls. She gets upset if someone she wishes to see is asked not to
visit her. I've tried that once or twice and she gets rather uptight.'

Dr Carr looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Yes, well, I must leave that to your discretion, Miss Parsons. Probably to go against her wishes would do more harm than good. She sleeps well?'

‘No,' said Amabel. ‘Although she dozes a lot during the day.'

‘But at night—she is restless? Worried…?'

‘No. Just awake. She likes to talk, and sometimes I read to her.'

He looked at her as though he hadn't really seen her before.

‘You get sufficient recreation, Miss Parsons?'

Amabel said that, yes, thank you, she did. Because if she didn't he might decide that she wasn't capable enough for the job and arrange for a nurse. Her insides trembled at the thought.

So Amabel met visitors as they were ushered into the hall and, unless they were very close old friends or remote members of Lady Haleford's family, persuaded them that she wasn't well enough to have a visitor, then offered notepaper and a pen in case they wanted to write a little note and plied them with coffee and one of Mrs Twitchett's mince pies.

Hard work, but it left both parties satisfied.

Though it was quite quiet in the house, the village at its doorstep was full of life. There was a lighted Christmas tree, the village shop was a blaze of fairy lights, and carol singers—ranging from small children roaring out the first line of ‘Good King Wenceslas' to the harmonious church choir—were a nightly event. And Mrs Twitchett, while making sure that Lady Haleford was served the dainty
little meals she picked at, dished up festive food suitable to the season for the other three of them.

Amabel counted her blessings and tried not to think about Oliver.

 

Dr Fforde was going to Glastonbury to spend Christmas with his mother and the rest of his family. Two days which he could ill spare. He had satisfied himself that his patients were making progress, presented the theatre staff with sherry, his ward sister and his receptionist and the nurse at the consulting rooms with similar bottles, made sure that Bates and his wife would enjoy a good Christmas, loaded the car boot with suitable presents and, accompanied by Tiger, was ready to leave home.

He was looking forward to the long drive, and, more than that, he was looking forward to seeing Amabel, for he intended to call on his aunt on his way.

He had been working hard for the last week or so, and on top of that there had been the obligatory social events. Many of them he had enjoyed, but not all of them. He had found the dinner party given by Miriam's parents particularly tedious, but he had had no good reason to refuse the invitation—although he had been relieved to find that Miriam seemed no longer to look upon him as her future. She had been as amusing and attractive as always, but she had made no demands on his time, merely saying with apparent sincerity that he must be glad to get away from his work for a few days.

It was beginning to snow when he left, very early on the morning of Christmas Eve. Tiger, sitting very upright beside him, watched the heavy traffic. It took some time to get away from London but the doctor remained patient,
thinking about Amabel, knowing that he would be seeing her in an hour or so.

The village looked charming as he drove through it and there was a small lighted Christmas tree in the cottage's drawing room window. He got out of the car, opened the door for Tiger, and saw Amabel and Cyril at the far end of the village street. Tiger, scenting friends, was already on his way to meet them. Oliver saw Amabel stop, and for a moment he thought she was going to turn round and hurry away. But she bent to greet Tiger and came towards him. He met her halfway.

There was snow powdering her woolly cap and her coat, and her face was rosy with cold. He thought she looked beautiful, though he was puzzled by her prim greeting.

He said cheerfully, ‘Hello. I'm on my way to spend Christmas with the family. How is my aunt?'

‘A bit tired,' she told him seriously. ‘There have been a great many visitors, although she has seen only a handful of them.'

They were walking back towards the house. ‘I expect you'd like to see her? She'll be finishing her breakfast.' Since he didn't speak, the silence got rather long. ‘I expect you've been busy?' Annabel finally ventured.

‘Yes, I'll go back on Boxing Day.' They had reached the front door when he said, ‘What's the matter, Amabel?'

She said, too quickly, ‘Nothing. Everything is fine.' And as she opened the door added, ‘Would you mind going up to Lady Haleford? I'll dry the dogs and tidy myself.'

Mrs Twitchett came bustling into the hall then, and
Amabel slipped away. Oliver wouldn't stay long and she could keep out of his way…

The dogs made themselves comfortable on either side of Oscar in front of the Aga, and when Nelly came in to say that Mr Oliver would have a cup of coffee before he went away Amabel slipped upstairs. Lady Haleford would be ready to start the slow business of dressing.

‘Go away,' said the old lady as Amabel went into her room. ‘Go and have coffee with Oliver. I'll dress later.' When Amabel looked reluctant, she added, ‘Well, run along. Surely you want to wish him a happy Christmas?'

So Amabel went downstairs again, as slowly as possible, and into the drawing room. The dogs and Oscar had gone there with the coffee, sitting before the fire, and the doctor was sitting in one of the big wing chairs.

He got up as she went in, drew a balloon-backed chair closer to his own and invited her to pour their coffee.

‘And now tell me what is wrong,' he said kindly. ‘For there is something, isn't there? Surely we are friends enough for you to tell me? Something I have done, Amabel?'

She took a gulp of coffee. ‘Well, yes, but it's silly of me to mind. So if it's all the same to you I'd rather not talk about it.'

He resisted the urge to scoop her out of her chair and wrap her in his arms. ‘It isn't all the same to me…'

She put down her cup and saucer. ‘Well, you didn't have to take me out to dinner just because Lady Haleford said that you should— I wouldn't have gone if I'd known…' She choked with sudden temper. ‘Like giving a biscuit to a dog…'

Oliver bit back a laugh, not of amusement but of tenderness and relief. If that was all…

But she hadn't finished. ‘And I didn't buy a dress because I hoped you would take me out.' She looked at him then. ‘You are my friend, Oliver, and that is how I think of you—a friend.'

He said gently, ‘I came to take you out for the evening, Amabel. Anything my aunt said didn't influence me in any way. And as for your new dress, that was something I hadn't considered. It was a pretty dress, but you look nice whatever you are wearing.' He would have liked to have said a great deal more, but it was obviously not the right moment. When she didn't speak, he said, ‘Still friends, Amabel?'

‘Yes—oh, yes, Oliver. I'm sorry I've been so silly.'

‘We'll have another evening out after Christmas. I think that you will be here for some time yet.'

‘I'm very happy here. Everyone in the village is so friendly, and really I have nothing to do.'

‘You have very little time to yourself. Do you get the chance to go out—meet people—young people?'

‘Well, no, but I don't mind.'

He got up to go presently. It was still snowing and he had some way to drive still. She went with him to the door, and Tiger, reluctant to leave Cyril and Oscar, pushed between them. Amabel bent to stroke him.

‘Go carefully,' she said, ‘and I hope that you and your family have a lovely Christmas.'

He stood looking down at her. ‘Next year will be different!' He fished a small packet from a pocket. ‘Happy Christmas, Amabel,' he said, and kissed her.

He didn't wait to hear her surprised thanks. She stood watching the car until it was out of sight, her mouth slightly open in surprise, clutching the little gaily wrapped box.

The delightful thought that he might come again on his way back to London sent a pleasant glow through her person.

She waited until Christmas morning before she opened the box, sitting up in bed early in the darkness. The box contained a brooch, a true lover's knot, in gold and turquoise—a dainty thing, but one she could wear with her very ordinary clothes.

She got up dressed in the grey dress and pinned the brooch onto it before getting into her coat and slipping out of the house to go to church.

It was dark and cold, and although the snow had stopped it lay thick on the ground. The church was cold too, but it smelled of evergreens and flowers, and the Christmas tree shone with its twinkling lights. There weren't many people at the service, for almost everyone would be at Matins during the morning, but as they left the church there was a pleasant flurry of cheerful talk and good wishes.

Amabel made sure that Lady Haleford was still asleep, had a quick breakfast with Mrs Twitchett and Nelly and took Cyril for his walk. The weather didn't suit his elderly bones and the walk was brief. She settled him next to Oscar by the Aga and went to bid Lady Haleford good morning.

The old lady wasn't in a festive mood. She had no wish to get out of her bed, no wish to eat her breakfast, and she said that she was too tired to look at the gifts Amabel assured her were waiting for her downstairs.

‘You can read to me,' she said peevishly.

So Amabel sat down and read.
Little Women
was a soothing book, and very old-fashioned. She found the chapter describing Christmas and the simple pleasures of
the four girls and their mother was a sharp contrast to the comfortable life Lady Haleford had always lived.

Presently Lady Haleford said, ‘What a horrid old woman I am…'

‘You're one of the nicest people I know,' said Amabel, and, quite forgetting that she was a paid companion, she got up and hugged the old lady.

So Christmas was Christmas after all, with presents being opened, and turkey and Christmas pudding and mince pies, suitably interposed between refreshing naps, and Amabel, having tucked Lady Haleford into her bed, went early to bed herself. There was nothing else to do, but that didn't matter. Oliver would be returning to London the next day, and perhaps he would come and see them again…

But he didn't. It was snowing again, and he couldn't risk a hold-up on the way back to London.

The weather stayed wintry until New Year's Day, when Amabel woke to a bright winter's sun and blue sky. It was still snowy underfoot, and as she sloshed through it with a reluctant Cyril she wondered what the New Year would bring…

 

As for the doctor, he hardly noticed which day of the week it was, for the New Year had brought with it the usual surge of bad chests, tired hearts and the beginnings of a flu epidemic. He left home early and came home late, and ate whatever food Bates put before him. He was tired, and often frustrated, but it was his life and his work, and presently, when things had settled down again, he would go to Amabel…

Miriam waited for a few days before phoning Oliver.
He had just got home after a long day and he was tired, but that was something she hadn't considered. There was a new play, she told him, would he get tickets? ‘And we could have supper afterwards. I want to hear all about Christmas…'

He didn't tell her that he was working all day and every day, and sometimes into the night as well. He said mildly, ‘I'm very busy, Miriam, I can't spare the time. There is a flu epidemic…'

‘Oh, is there? I didn't know. There must be plenty of junior doctors…'

‘Not enough.'

She said with a flash of temper, ‘Then I'll get someone who will enjoy my company.'

The doctor, reading the first of a pile of reports on his desk, said absent-mindedly, ‘Yes, do. I hope you will have a pleasant evening.'

He put the phone down and then picked it up again. He wanted to hear Amabel's voice. He put it down again. Phone conversations were unsatisfactory, for either one said too much or not enough. He would go and see her just as soon as he could spare the time. He ignored the pile of work before him and sat back and thought about Amabel, in her grey dress, wearing, he hoped, the true lover's knot.

Miriam had put down the phone and sat down to think. If Oliver was busy then he wouldn't have time to go to Aldbury. It was a chance for her to go, talk to the girl, convince her that he had no interest in her, that his future and hers were as far apart as two poles. It would be helpful if she could get Amabel away from this aunt of his, but she could see no way of doing that. She would have to
convince Amabel that she had become an embarrassment to him…

There was no knowing when Oliver would go to Aldbury again, and Miriam waited with impatience for the snow to clear away. On a cold bright day, armed with a bouquet of flowers purporting to come from her mother, she set out.