A Suitable Match

‘Miss Crump?’ he enquired. ‘I was to deliver this before you left.’

‘Me?’ Eustacia beamed at him. ‘You’re sure it’s for me?’

‘Name’s Crump, isn’t it?’

He went away again and she tucked the gaily packed box under her arm and went home, speculating all the way as to who it was from.

But first when she got home there was her present from her grandfather to open—warm red slippers; just what she needed, she declared, during the cold months of winter. After he had admired his waistcoat and gloves she opened her package. It had been wrapped in red paper covered with robins and tied with red ribbons, and she gave a great sigh of pleasure when she saw its contents: an extravagantly large box of handmade chocolates, festooned with yet more ribbons and covered in brocade. There was a card with it, written in a childish hand, ‘With Love from Oliver and Teddy.’

‘Well, really,’ said Eustacia, totally surprised. ‘But I only met them once, remember, Grandfather, at Kew…’

‘Children like to give presents to the people they like.’

‘I must write and thank them—only I don’t know where they live.’

‘They’re with their uncle, aren’t they? And with luck someone at the hospital will surely know his address.’

‘Yes, of course. What a lovely surprise. Have one while I start the dinner.’ She paused on her way to the kitchen. ‘It must have cost an awful lot, and they’re only children.’

‘I dare say they’ve been saving up—you know what children are.’ Her grandfather chose a chocolate with care and popped it into his mouth. ‘They’re delicious.’

They had their dinner presently and afterwards Eustacia went to church, and went back home to watch television until bedtime. Without saying anything to her grandfather she had hired a set, to his great delight, for he spent a good part of the day on his own and she guessed that he was sometimes lonely. If, later on, she couldn’t afford it, she could always return it—although, seeing the old man’s pleasure in it, she vowed to keep it at all costs. It was an extravagance, she supposed, and the money should perhaps be saved against a rainy day or the ever-worrying chance that she might lose her job. On the other hand, it was their one extravagance and did much to lighten their uneventful lives.

She went back to work the next day after their lunch. There were two of the staff on duty, cross-matching blood for patients due for operations the following day, doing blood counts and checking test meals. Eustacia made tea for them both, had a cup herself and busied herself restocking the various forms on each bench. That done, she put out clean towels, filled the soap containers and cleaned the sinks which had been used. She was to stay until six o’clock when the night porter would take over, and once the others had gone it was very quiet. She was glad when he came to spend a few minutes in cheerful talk before she took herself off home.

Everyone was short-tempered in the morning—too much to eat and drink, too little sleep and a generally jaundiced outlook on life cast gloom over the entire department. Miss Bennett found fault with very nearly everything, until Eustacia felt like flinging a tray of dishes and bottles on to the floor and walking out for good. She held her tongue and looked meek, and to her great surprise at the day’s end Miss Bennett rather grudgingly admitted that on the whole her work was quite satisfactory, adding sternly that there was to be no more slackness now that the festive season was over. ‘And a good thing it is,’ she observed. It was obvious to Eustacia that the poor woman found no joy in her life. Such a pity, one never knew what was round the corner.

It was halfway through January when she got home one evening to find, to her great astonishment, Sir Colin Crichton sitting all at ease opposite her grandfather’s armchair by the open fire. He got up when she went in and wished her a polite good evening, and she replied with a hint of tartness. She wasn’t looking at her best; it had been a busy day and she was tired, and, conscious that her hair was untidy and her face badly needed fresh make-up, the frown she turned upon him was really quite fierce and he smiled faintly.

‘I came to talk to you,’ he said to surprise her, ‘but if you are too tired…?’

She took up the challenge. ‘I am not in the least tired,’ she assured him, and then said suddenly, ‘Oh—is it about my job?’

He had sat down again and she glanced at her grandfather, who, beyond smiling at her when she kissed him, had remained silent.

‘Er—yes, to a certain extent.’

She took an indignant breath. She had worked hard at a job she really didn’t like and now she supposed she was to get the sack, although why someone as exalted as Sir Colin had to do it was beyond her.

He said in his quiet, deliberate voice, ‘No, it is not what you think it is, Miss Crump, but it would please me very much if you would give up your job in the path lab and come to work for me.’

‘Come to work for you?’ she echoed his words in a voice squeaky with surprise. And then added, ‘Why?’

‘My nephews,’ he explained. ‘They have both had flu, tonsillitis and nasty chests. It is obvious that London doesn’t agree with them, at least until they are fit again. I feel responsible for them while their mother and father are away, but I am rarely at home during the day and there is no question of their going back to school for several weeks. I have a home at Turville, just north of Henley. A very small village and quiet— I don’t go there as often as I would wish. I should like the boys to go there and I would be glad if you would go with them. They have taken to you in a big way, you know.’ He smiled his charming smile. ‘There is a housekeeper there, her husband does the garden and the odd jobs but they are both elderly and the boys need young company—a kind of elder sister? I think that you would fill that role exactly…’

Eustacia had her mouth open to speak and he went on calmly, ‘No, don’t interrupt—let me finish… I am not sure how long it might be before my brother returns—but at least two months, and at the end of that time you would have sufficient experience to get a post in a similar capacity. There is plenty of room for everyone; the Samwayses have their own quarters on the ground floor at the back of the house and adjoining it is a bedroom which Mr Crump could use. You yourself, Miss Crump, would have a room next to the boys on the first floor. Now as to salary…’ He mentioned a sum which made Eustacia gape at him.

‘That’s twice as much as I’m getting,’ she told him.

‘I can assure you that you will earn every penny of it. Do you know anything about little boys?’

‘No, I’m afraid not.’

He smiled. ‘But I believe that you would do very well with them. Will you consider it?’

She looked at her grandfather, and although he didn’t say anything she saw the eagerness in his face. ‘This flat?’ she asked. ‘It’s—it’s our home.’

‘You could continue to rent it. Naturally I do not expect you to pay for your rooms and food at Turville.’ He sounded disapproving and she blushed.

‘It is a very generous offer…’ she began, and he laughed then.

‘My dear girl, this is no sinecure. The boot will be on the other foot if you agree to take charge of the boys. Would you like time to think it over?’

She caught sight of her grandfather’s face again. ‘No, thank you, sir, I shall be glad to come.’ She was rewarded by the look on the old man’s face. ‘I shall have to give my notice. I don’t know how long…?’

‘Give in your notice and I’ll have a word. And don’t call me sir, it makes me feel old.’ He got to his feet. ‘I am most grateful for your help. You will hear from me as soon as the details are settled.’

She saw him to the door. ‘You’re quite sure…? she began as she opened it.

‘Quite sure. The boys will be delighted.’

She stood in the doorway and watched him drive away and then went back to her grandfather.

He quickly dispelled any vague doubts floating around in her head. ‘It couldn’t be better,’ he declared. ‘It is a splendid start; when you leave the boys you will have a good reference and plenty of experience. You will be qualified for an even better post.’

‘But Grandfather, what about you?’ She sat down at the table.

‘We still have this flat—there must be a job such as this one where one can live out.’ He allowed himself to dream a little. ‘You might even get a post in the country where there is a cottage or something similar where we might live.’

She had her doubts, but it would be unkind to throw cold water over his pleasure. She let him ramble on happily and hoped that she had done the right thing. After all, her job, although not to her liking, was, as far as she knew, safe enough, and she had earned enough to make their life a good deal easier than it had been. On the other hand, she wouldn’t need to buy food, they would live rent-free and she would be able to save a good deal of the money she earned.

‘I hope I’m doing the right thing,’ she muttered as she went to the kitchen to get their supper.

She went to see Miss Bennett the next morning and was surprised to find that that lady knew all about it. ‘You will have to work out your week’s notice,’ she told Eustacia, and her usually sharp voice was quite pleasant. ‘There will be no difficulty in replacing you—I have a list of applicants ready to jump into your shoes.’ She added even more surprisingly, ‘I hope you will be happy in your new job. You will have to see the professor before you go. You are on Saturday duty this week, are you not?’ And when Eustacia nodded, ‘So you will leave at six o’clock on that day.’

She nodded dismissal and Eustacia escaped to the quiet of the little cubby-hole where she washed the bottles and dishes and, while she cleaned and polished, she allowed her thoughts to wander. Sir Colin hadn’t said exactly when they were to go, but she hoped it wouldn’t be until Monday so that she would have time to pack their things and leave the flat pristine.

There was a letter for her the following morning. If her grandfather and she could be ready by Sunday afternoon directly after lunch, they would be fetched by car and driven to Turville; he trusted that this arrangement would be agreeable to her. The letter was typewritten, but he had signed it with a scrawl which she supposed was his signature.

She could see no reason why they should not go when it was suggested, so she wrote a polite little note saying that they would be ready when the car came, and went off to tell her grandfather.

She packed their clothes on Saturday evening, got up early on Sunday morning and did some last-minute ironing, shut the cases and set about seeing that the flat was left clean. There wasn’t time to cook lunch, so she opened a can of soup and made some scrambled eggs and was just nicely ready when the doorbell was rung.

She was surprised to find Sir Colin on the doorstep. He wished her good-day in his placid voice, exchanged a few words with her grandfather, helped him into the front seat and put their luggage in the boot, ushered her into the back and, without more ado, set off.

There was little traffic on the road. Just before they reached Henley, Sir Colin turned off on to a narrow road running between high hedges which led downhill into Turville. Eustacia saw with delight the black and white timbers of the Bull and Butcher Inn as they reached the village, drove round the small village green with its fringe of old cottages, past the church and down a very narrow lane with meadows on one side and a high flint wall on the other. The lane turned abruptly and they drove through an open gateway into a short, circular drive leading to a long, low house with many latticed windows and a stout wooden door, the whole enmeshed in dormant Virginia creeper, plumbago and wistaria. It would be a heavenly sight in the summer months, she thought; it was a delightful picture in mid-winter with its sparkling white paint and clay-tiled roofing. Sir Colin stopped the car before the door and it was immediately thrown open to allow the two boys to rush out, shouting with delight.

Sir Colin got out, opened Eustacia’s door and helped her out, and left her to receive the exuberant greetings of the little boys while he went to help her grandfather. A grey-haired man came out of the door to join him. ‘Ah, Samways, here are Mr and Miss Crump.’ And, as he smiled and bowed slightly, Sir Colin went on, ‘Pipe down, you two, and give a hand with the luggage.’