Charity (51 page)

In the kitchen one woman stood on steps washing down the walls, tutting at the congealed grease while another woman scrubbed out the cupboards.

‘I’m afraid the house is in an uproar,’ Charity said as she ushered the nurse sent from the agency into the winter parlour which hadn’t been used for years. She had moved Grandmother into Prue’s room while her own was cleaned, and to Charity’s surprise she found it tidied. Uncle Stephen was skulking in his room, still claiming that all this was unnecessary, but he’d agreed to be taken out into the garden later while his room was tackled.

‘I’m Dawn Giles.’ The woman took the offered chair opposite Charity and pulled a sheaf of letters out of her large handbag. ‘These are references from all my old patients. As you will see, I’ve been in private nursing for many years.’

Charity felt an instant liking for this nurse, though she couldn’t have said why. She was a big woman, with a round, plain face and dull brown hair cut in a severe, unflattering bob to her jaw level. She wore a navy blue dress and jacket, which, like her hair, did her no favours, but there was a kindly look about her and her big arms suggested physical strength.

‘I’ll be honest,’ Charity said. ‘My uncle is an amputee and a difficult, bad-tempered man. My grandmother is just old. I can’t stay here and look after them, I have a business of my own in London, and my younger brother and sister haven’t been used to doing a hand’s turn. I’m telling you this now so you aren’t under any illusions about the job. I am advertising for domestic help and I’ll stay here until I get the right people.’

Charity went on to explain what she believed was needed.

‘I haven’t had any contact with my uncle in years until yesterday,’ she admitted. ‘Medically I don’t know what’s required, but he or the district nurse can tell you that. I’ll show you the room I thought would be suitable for you if you decide to come. Then perhaps you can have a chat with the colonel.’

It was almost half-past eleven when Charity took Nurse Giles in to see Stephen, after introducing her to Grandmother and showing the nurse her room. Around ten minutes later she was surprised to see the woman wheeling Stephen outside in his chair.

They were gone for over an hour, and when Charity went out later to look for them she was delighted to find them in the walled garden talking earnestly.

This garden, which had been very neglected, was the one that had been restored in the manner of an Italian garden, with brick paths, pergolas, a couple of stone benches and a small fountain.

Charity didn’t interrupt. The nurse and her uncle appeared to be getting along very well, so she went back in to prepare some lunch.

‘Charity!’ Stephen’s voice boomed out from the hall just as she was laying the table.

‘Miss Giles is coming back later today,’ he said once Charity reached him in the hall. ‘Get her room ready.’

Charity overlooked the curt order, she was so pleased he’d agreed to a nurse.

‘She seems nice,’ she said cautiously. ‘Your mother liked her too.’

‘Sensible, no-nonsense type,’ he said, wheeling his chair back into the drawing room. ‘Have they finished messing around in my room?’

‘Yes, Uncle,’ she said. ‘But lunch is nearly ready. Would you like a cold drink or anything first?’

He turned his chair back to face her.

Stephen really did like Nurse Giles, and she had passed on to him how much Charity had done for his mother, but he didn’t like the feeling of losing control in his own house.

‘Don’t try to be too clever,’ he said, his eyes almost disappearing into folds of flesh. ‘I’ve got you taped.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Again her hackles rose at his rudeness.

‘Trying to worm your way in,’ he snapped. ‘It won’t wash, though. I know what you are.’

‘I know what you are too,’ she said coldly. ‘And believe me, I’ve no desire to worm my way anywhere near you.’

‘I don’t want you to leave.’ Grandmother’s small wrinkled face looked plaintive. She sat in a button-back chair by the open window in the drawing room, the cup of tea Charity had brought her in her hands.

‘I’ll stay till after the weekend,’ Charity replied. ‘But I’m needed at the office and everything’s running smoothly here now.’

Charity’s week at Studley was an exhausting, exasperating one. Scores of women had turned up in answer to her advertisement, but most of them had been more interested in getting a glimpse of the inside of the house than in working there. But finally Charity had taken on Margaret, a plump, jolly middle-aged woman, as cook, and her cousin Pat to do the cleaning. As both of them were local there was no call for them to live in and already they were getting on well with Nurse Giles and Grandmother.

But getting staff and having the domestic agency spring-clean the house was the easy part. Acting as a buffer between Stephen and the new help, working out duties and making Toby and Prue see they couldn’t lie around and do nothing for themselves, was the most onerous.

There had been moments of delight being back with Toby and Prue, but there were many more times when Charity was tempted to just walk away. Toby was easier. Despite his arrogance he could be very charming. He wanted to know about Charity’s life, her friends and work. He tagged along with her, helping her clean silver and turn out cupboards cheerfully, and he was very good at acting as a mediator between her and Stephen.

Prue was more difficult. She resented being asked to do anything she considered ‘servants’ work’ and her pointed, snobbish remarks made Charity cringe. She had an inflated idea of her own importance, constantly boasting of her marks at school, how much the teachers liked her and how talented she was. In fact she played the piano only passably, with no passion, and her dancing lessons had given her no grace or poise.

At times, when Charity looked at Toby and Prue, she felt their sexes should be reversed. Prue, had she been a boy, would be ideal material for the role Stephen had in mind for Toby. She had the strength of character to be an officer in the army, the determination and the qualities of leadership. Toby, with his beauty, charm and warmth, would be far more comfortable in a more feminine role. He took interest in all the old family treasures, he liked people more than his sister did and he was far more diplomatic.

But though Charity had made many observations about her brother and sister, discovered a great deal about their life in the past six years, it was disappointing to find she couldn’t get close to either of them. It was as if a transparent membrane separated them: she could see and hear and touch them, but until she could find a way to break that membrane, they would always be aloof.

‘I suspect Nurse Giles is a maneater,’ Grandmother said to Charity. ‘But time will tell, and you’re right, she is making him more pleasant.’

Charity was tempted to ask the old lady to enlarge on this observation, but out of loyalty to the woman who had the patience to wash and set Grandmother’s hair the previous day, she decided against it.

‘She’s a good nurse,’ Charity said firmly. ‘You look so much better since she’s been here.’

Grandmother’s hair was like a fluffy white halo, and her lined face had a pink glow again.

‘I feel better.’ She sighed deeply. ‘But Toby worries me,’ she whispered, as if afraid they’d be overheard. ‘He’s very charming, but there’s something not quite right. He’s too sure of himself, too ruthless for such a young man and he’s dishonest.’

The old lady dropped her eyes. ‘He tells lies as easily as he breathes. I even suspect him of stealing from me. Prue is far from perfect. She’s a snob, selfish and very greedy. But she’s honest and deep down I know she’s a good girl. But Toby!’

Charity thought this over for a moment. Grandmother clearly loved both children; the tender way she looked at them was enough to prove that. She was one for making sweeping remarks about people, like the one about Nurse Giles being a maneater, but Charity had noticed she was remarkably astute.

‘I’ll try and talk to him.’ Charity got up from her seat and bent down to tuck a blanket round her grandmother’s knees. ‘Don’t you worry about the children, you’ve done a good job as their granny and they love you. Now why don’t you have a little snooze before tea?’

The old lady smiled, reassured. ‘I want to give you something,’ she said.

Charity stared in surprise as her grandmother pulled out a small blue velvet drawstring bag from the pocket of her dress and tipped a pair of earrings on to her lap.

They were brilliant blue stones that sparkled in the sunshine. Three stones in all, the largest almost as big as a sixpence, intricately suspended from an old gold clip.

Even though Charity had no real knowledge of jewellery, it was obvious they were extremely valuable.

‘They are sapphires,’ Grandmother said, holding them up to the light. ‘My mother gave them to me when I married. I always intended to give them to Gwen, but circumstances prevented me.’

‘I can’t take those!’ Charity gasped.

‘I might not be here when you marry,’ the old lady said as she held them up to Charity’s cheek. ‘They go with your eyes and they never belonged to the Pennycuick family: that’s enough reason to give them to you.’

It was their background that weakened Charity. She clipped them on to her ears and smiled down at her grandmother. ‘How do I look?’ she said, sweeping her hair up on top of her head.

‘Like a duchess.’ The old lady smiled. ‘Now wear them with pride. My grandfather gave them to Grandmother on her wedding day.’

Charity looked at herself in the mirror above the fireplace. She loved them. They were dainty, they did match her eyes and they made her feel wonderful.

‘I can’t take them.’ She took them off reluctantly and held them out to her grandmother. ‘They are too valuable, I’d be afraid of losing them. Besides, Uncle Stephen wouldn’t like it.’

‘Nonsense,’ Grandmother snapped. ‘I told you why I want you to have them. They suit you just as they did me and my mother before that. My son will have everything else when I go, but he has no right to these.’

Chapter Twenty-Three

Charity walked into the kitchen to find Margaret filling Kilner jars with gooseberries on the kitchen table.

‘Can I help?’ she asked. ‘I’m at a bit of a loose end, Toby and Prue have gone off to the riding stables and I’m not going back to London till this evening.’

‘You can pour in the sugared water, if you like.’ Margaret wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. ‘But you should get on out in the sunshine, you’ll be stuck behind your desk tomorrow.’

Although Margaret had been in her new job for only a few days she had already made a great many observations about the residents in the household. She was a lively and energetic fifty-year-old, her own two sons were grown up and recently emigrated to Canada, her husband Tom retired. She had already decided this was a position she could be happy in: she liked to keep busy and care for people, but more than that she’d taken these motherless children to her heart.

Charity lifted the big enamel jug and began to pour the liquid over the fruit. She liked Margaret. In many ways she reminded her of Mrs Cod at Bowes Court, with the same kind of brisk efficiency and jovial warmth. A short, stout woman with iron-grey permed hair, she had a youthful, unlined face. Although she waddled rather than walked and her big white apron emphasised her plump body, she accomplished her workload with remarkable calmness and speed. The cake tins were full of delicious homemade cakes and biscuits, and now she was looking ahead to the winter with bottled fruit. She’d even made the kitchen look more cheery with geraniums on the windowsill.

Margaret guessed that Charity had something on her mind and she was concerned that a girl of only twenty-one seemed to take on so much responsibility.

‘Don’t you go worrying about anything,’ she said. ‘Pat and me have got the house sorted now, and Nurse Giles is a brick.’

‘I think you should ask Prue and Toby to help out sometimes,’ Charity said.

Margaret glanced at Charity. Her blonde hair was so shiny and silky, her pale blue minidress the height of fashion, yet this pretty young girl seemed so much older than her years. She and Dawn Giles were puzzled about why the colonel had something against her: both of them would be proud to have her as a daughter, let alone a niece.

‘I’ll give them a few cookery lessons,’ Margaret replied. ‘Then they’ll be able to cope on my day off.’

‘I hope you can manage when James arrives later this month.’ Charity smiled. ‘He’s only eight and I’m a bit concerned Toby and Prue will leave him to his own devices too much.’

‘I’m well used to little boys.’ Margaret’s face glowed with pleasure at the prospect. ‘He can come in here and play with a bit of pastry and things. If the other two had had a bit of that they wouldn’t be such strangers to a kitchen now. But maybe you could come down for a weekend then and see him for yourself?’

‘I haven’t had an invitation yet.’ Charity raised one eyebrow, knowing Margaret understood the situation very well.

Margaret lifted the loaded jars on to a tray ready to put it into the oven, then glanced up at the clock. ‘It’s nearly time for elevenses,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you go and have a chat now with Mrs Pennycuick? I’ll bring you in some coffee in a minute.’

As Charity walked into the drawing room she saw her grandmother had nodded off in her chair by the window. She looked so sweet and small, her head resting on the winged chair-back, her glasses sliding down her nose and the unread newspaper folded on her lap.

Charity stood at one of the long windows looking out, a feeling of peace filling her. A gap in the bushes by the railings on the far side of the drive gave a view over the fields right across to Beckley. It had rained constantly over the weekend, but now the sun had come out again and everything looked shiny and new. A couple of birds were bathing in a puddle on the drive and Morris the gardener was clipping the yew hedge, his pipe dangling from the corner of his mouth.

Stephen was listening to the morning story on his wireless in his room. Nurse Giles was out in the laundry. The hum of the vacuum cleaner suggested that Pat was cleaning Grandmother’s room.