A Happy Meeting

He took her hand in his large one. ‘A most unfortunate accident, but you will be quite all right again very shortly. And don’t worry about the dog, I’ll see that it comes to no harm. Goodbye, Miss Preece.’

She didn’t want him to go; a sensible girl, inured to accepting what life had to offer her, she wished very much that he would stay. But that, of course, was impossible; he was a complete stranger who had happened to turn up just when he was most needed. Then she thanked him in a polite voice tight with pain and watched his vast back go through the door with regret. At least the dog would be safe and her stepmother had been away from home. She comforted herself with that.

Dr van der Linus trod slowly down the staircase with Moggy leading the way. In the hall he stood still. ‘You will look after Miss Preece? She is in a good deal of pain, but get her into bed with a warm drink and the paracetamol and she should sleep. Her own doctor will prescribe what he thinks fit.’ He smiled down at the severe face. ‘Could I bother you for some water for the dog, and perhaps a slice of bread?’ And at her nod, ‘May I know your name?’

‘Mogford—Miss, but Miss Cressy always calls me Moggy, since she was knee-high.’ She went ahead of him. ‘I’ve some soup on the stove; perhaps a drop of that would do the beast some good, then I’ll go and see to Miss Cressy.’

She led the way into the kitchen and poured soup into a bowl and broke some bread into it. ‘You won’t be long?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Mrs Preece doesn’t hold with animals. It’s a mercy that she’s out… there’ll be a fuss enough over Miss Cressy.’

‘Yes. I’m sure your mistress will be upset,’ observed Dr van der Linus smoothly.

‘Upset? Oh, she’ll be upset, all right.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘She’ll be back in twenty minutes or so, you’d best hurry.’

Dr van der Linus’s eyebrows rose but all he said was, ‘I’ll be very quick. Shall I leave the bowl behind a bush for you to collect later?’

His companion nodded. ‘Thank you for your trouble. You’ve been most kind.’

She shut the front door upon him and he went to the car, let the dog out while it ate and drank hungrily and then ushered it back in. He had driven a couple of miles and was almost at Templecombe when a car flashed past him. There was a woman driving. Probably Mrs Preece, he reflected as he turned off the road to take the short cut to Yeovil and the vet.

That gentleman, roused from his comfortable chair by the fire, peered at the dog standing dejectedly on the end of its rope. ‘My dear Aldrik, what on earth have you here?’

‘A dog, John. I have acquired him from his rescuer who is unable to offer food and shelter. Found tied to a tree on the other side of Minton Cracknell.’

‘Want me to have a look? He’s in pretty poor shape.’ He patted the dog’s matted head. ‘I didn’t know you were over here. Staying with Lady Merrill? You must come and dine one evening before you go back.’

He led the way through the house and out again into a yard at the back to his surgery. ‘How is the old lady?’

‘In splendid form. Her years sit lightly on her.’ He heaved the reluctant dog on to the examination table, gentling him with a steady hand.

‘Over here on holiday or doing some work?’

‘Oh, a little of both. I’ve had a week in Edinburgh; I’m going on to Bristol to give a series of lectures and then back to London before I go home.’

‘Well, dine with us before you leave. Molly will be disappointed if you don’t. How about one evening next week? Any evening, take pot luck.’

‘I should like that. May I give you a ring?’

The vet was bending over the dog. ‘He hasn’t anything broken as far as I can see. Half starved—more than half—and ill-treated—look at these sores. Do you want me to get him fit, or…?’

‘Get him fit, will you? I promised his rescuer; a dab of a girl with huge brown eyes.’

John looked up. ‘You say he was found near Minton Cracknell? That would be Cressida Preece. She brought me a cat a month or two ago—in a bad way, paid to have her cured of burns, quite nasty ones as a result of some lout tying a squib to her tail. She’s still paying me, a bit at a time.’

‘And yet she lives in a pleasant house…?’

‘Yes but I fancy her life isn’t as pleasant. Her father died some months ago; she lives with her stepmother. Unfortunately he left everything to her under the impression, one presumes, that she would provide for his daughter.’

Dr van der Linus stroked the trembling dog’s head. ‘Surely in this day and age the girl can leave home and get a job?’

‘One would think so, though I don’t imagine she’s trained for anything. What shall I do? Get this beast fit and let her know?’

‘No. I’ve taken rather a fancy to him. I’ll take him with me when I go back to Holland. May I leave him with you? My grandmother will be wondering where I have got to.’

‘Give me a ring in the morning, and we’ll see how he is after some food and a night’s sleep.’

The doctor got back into his car and drove away from the town, going north and presently turning into a maze of side-roads which brought him eventually to a small village lying between hilly country. It was indeed a small place, with a church, a handful of cottages, and a handsome vicarage, a shop and a duck pond. He drove through it before turning in between red-brick pillars surmounted by weatherbeaten lions and following a drive between thick undergrowth. It ended in a wide gravel sweep before a red-brick house of the Queen Anne period, light streaming from its windows and ringed around by trees. Dr van der Linus, getting out of his car, thought how welcoming it was. The door was opened as he reached it and a dignified old man, rather shaky on his legs, wished him a good evening and offered the information that Lady Merrill was in the small drawing-room.

‘I’m late, Baxter—I got held up. Give me ten minutes before you serve dinner, will you?’ He clapped the old man gently on the shoulders and crossed the hall to one of the open doors.

The room was a pleasant one, a little old-fashioned but light and airy with some rather massive furniture and thickly carpeted. The doctor crossed to a chair by the fire and the old lady sitting in it turned a smiling face to him as two Pekinese dogs hurried to meet him. He bent to pat them before stooping to kiss his grandmother.

‘My apologies for being late, my dear. I was unexpectedly delayed.’

‘Did the lecture not go well?’

‘Oh, very well. I was forced to stop on my way…’

‘Pour yourself a drink and tell me about it.’

Which he did. ‘Was she pretty, this girl?’

‘Pretty? To tell you the truth, I can’t remember how she looked. She had nice eyes and a very pleasant voice.’ He sounded indifferent and presently they talked of other things. He didn’t think of the girl again.

Cressida, with Miss Mogford’s help, had got herself into bed. Her ankle hurt abominably but the paracetamol was beginning to take effect. Moggy had arranged a small footstool in the bed so that her foot was free of the bedclothes and perhaps by the morning it would be better. Staying in bed was a luxury her stepmother disapproved of. Hopefully she wouldn’t come home until late and need know nothing about it until the morning. She drank the tea Miss Mogford brought her and was urged to go to sleep, and she did as she was bid. She was awakened half an hour later by the entrance of Mrs Preece, a woman who in her youth had been enchantingly pretty and now in middle age, by dint of dieting ruthlessly, going to the best hairdressers so that her once golden hair should show no hint of grey, using every aid to beauty which caught her eye in the glossy magazines she favoured and wearing the floating draperies which gave her the look of helpless femininity which hid a nature as cold and hard as steel, preserved the illusion of sweetness of character.

‘What is all this nonsense I hear from Miss Mogford?’ she wanted to know. ‘And why are you in bed? It’s barely nine o’clock? Really, Cressida, I hardly expect a healthy girl of four and twenty to loll around like this.’

Cressida, used to her stepmother’s manner towards her, sat up in bed. ‘I’m in bed because I can’t stand on my foot and it’s very painful. I dare say it will be all right by the morning.’

‘It had better be—I’ve the Worthingtons coming to dinner and I want the flowers done and the silver epergne properly polished.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I’ve a splitting headache; I was forced to come away early from the party. I shall go to bed and can only hope that Miss Mogford will spare the time to bring me a hot drink and run my bath.’

She went away without saying goodnight and Cressida wriggled down into her bed again, wide awake now and aware that her ankle was hurting. It was too soon to take any more paracetamol. She tugged her pillows into comfort and allowed her thoughts to roam.

The man who had brought her home had been nice; not just nice, he had treated her…she sought for words—as though she mattered; and since she knew only too well that her looks were negligible she had appreciated that. He had been surprised when he’d seen her room, she had noticed that at once, but since she wasn’t going to see him again she didn’t think that mattered. She knew that the few friends she had in the village were at a loss to understand why she stayed at home when it was so obvious that she wasn’t welcome there now that her father was dead. She had never told anyone that she stayed there because of Moggy. Moggy had no home of her own; she had worked all her life for Cressida’s parents, never able to save because she had a married sister whose husband had become paralysed soon after they had married and had lived for many years, a helpless wreck, his life made bearable by the extras Moggy’s earnings had helped to buy. Now at fifty-eight years, she had two more years before she could draw her pension and receive the annuity Mr Preece had left her. Until then there was nothing else she could do but stay with Mrs Preece, since that lady had led her to understand that unless she remained in her employ until her sixtieth birthday her annuity would be cancelled. Since Miss Mogford, for all her severe appearance, was afraid that no one else would employ her in any case, and, over and above that, had set her heart on going to live with her now widowed sister where she would enjoy a snug retirement, she stayed on, managing the house with the help of girls from the village and Cressida. It was only because Cressida understood Moggy’s situation that she stayed. Two years, she told herself repeatedly, would soon pass, and once Moggy was safely esconced with her sister she herself would feel free to go away. She had no idea what she would do, she hadn’t been trained for anything but she was handy about the house and even in this day and age there were old ladies who needed companions. A roof over her head and some money to spend was all she expected until she had found her feet.

It was a great pity that her father, that most trusting of men, had left everything to her stepmother, under the impression that she would give Cressida an allowance. Instead of that, Mrs Preece had lost no time in making it quite clear that that was out of the question. Cressida would have to help Miss Mogford and in return she would be clothed and fed and be given pocket money.

Cressida, after a number of indignant protests, had had every intention of leaving, only to be stymied by being told of Moggy’s situation. She had plenty of common sense, added to which she was a girl of spirit, but Moggy had been a faithful and loving employee and a pleasant retirement was almost within her grasp. Cressida stayed and those who knew her thought silently that she should have shown more spirit.

She confided in no one, even her closest friends, and since Mrs Preece was always charmingly maternal towards her when there was anyone around they began to think that Cressida liked the way she lived. She was always cheerful and showed no envy when friends became engaged or got themselves good jobs away from the village, and they weren’t to know of the long hours she spent planning her future. She didn’t brood, for she despised self-pity, but now and then she wished that she had even a modicum of good looks; a pretty face, she was sure, would be a great help in getting a job.

She dozed off, to wake in the night from the throbbing of her ankle.

Moggy came to see how she was in the morning, took one look at her white face and told her to stay where she was.

‘I can’t,’ said Cressida, ‘there are the flowers to arrange and some silver to polish.’ So saying she got out of bed, set her injured foot floor and did something she had never done before in her life. She fainted.

Moggy picked her up and put her on the bed and marched down to Mrs Preece’s bedroom. Regardless of the fact that it was still two hours short of her usual entry with a tray of tea, she roused her mistress briskly.