Never too Late

‘No need—it’s settled. I’m sorry, Tony, but I’m not the right wife for you—you must know that, because if I had been, you’d have married me years ago.’ She picked up the ring. ‘Here you are. I hope you have a successful trip.’

She went out of the room rather quickly and went into the kitchen and shut the door. Even though she knew she had done the right thing, it was a little frightening to find herself alone after almost four years, and now she had committed herself to a job she knew nothing about in a country she had never been to with a man she had met only for the second time that evening. She felt lightheaded with relief and regret for what might have been, and at the same time scared of the future.

CHAPTER TWO

PRUDENCE WAS vaguely aware of voices, the faint thump of the front door closing and a moment later the door behind her opening.

‘Tea?’ Benedict’s voice sounded matter-of-fact as he crossed to the sink, filled the kettle and set it to boil. He didn’t look at her as he went on: ‘Your habit of drinking tea at all times is one to which I strongly subscribe.’

‘You’re Dutch?’ Prudence hadn’t given it a thought until now. ‘Why is your English so good?’

‘Perhaps because I spend a good deal of time in England. I went to school here and then Cambridge, but I am still a Dutchman, through and through.’

‘I don’t know a thing about you.’ And then because she couldn’t help herself: ‘Has he gone?’

‘Yes.’ He gave her a lightning glance and poured water into a teapot. ‘There’s not much to tell—I’m a G.P. My home is in Appeldoorn, a rather pleasant town in the centre of Holland—I’ve already told you that, haven’t I?’ He found a mug and filled it to the brim. ‘Drink that—we won’t talk any more about it tonight, you’re not registering anyway. I’ll come round tomorrow morning and we’ll go for a walk and discuss your duties.’ And when she looked at him in a puzzled way: ‘You agreed to come and work for me.’

‘Yes—yes, and I meant it, that is if you think I could cope?’

‘Why shouldn’t you cope?’ he wanted to know coolly. ‘There’s almost no skill involved.’

Prudence frowned. ‘That sounds rude.’

‘It’s not meant to be—what I mean is that it’s a job that any sensible woman could do, and you seem sensible.’

‘Oh—do I? Well, I can type and do a shaky shorthand and I can cook and keep house and do simple accounts, and I’ve taught in Sunday School for ten years.’

‘Exactly the kind of person I’m looking for.’ He smiled at her and opened the kitchen door. ‘Let’s join the others.’

Nancy and James didn’t say anything; they were making rather a thing of clearing up, and it wasn’t until Benedict began a lighthearted conversation about the party that they joined in, looking relieved. Benedict went shortly after that with the casual remark that he would be along about ten o’clock the next morning; he wished Nancy and James goodbye, then stopped in front of Prudence. ‘We all get our bad moments,’ he told her kindly. ‘They don’t last, if that’s any consolation to you, though they’re the very devil while they’re there.’

He squeezed her shoulder with an enormous hand and she felt strangely comforted.

She hadn’t expected to sleep, but she did, and woke feeling such relief that everything was all over and done with that it quite washed out any other feeling. Nancy and James, prepared to treat her with cautious sympathy, were surprised to see her eat a good breakfast and listen to her cheerful comments about the party. ‘And you don’t have to worry about me,’ she assured them. ‘I ought to have done it ages ago—I’m sure that Tony’s as relieved as I am—he’ll find himself an American heiress, I’ve no doubt.’ She looked at her sister. ‘Was he very upset when he went?’ Her voice faltered a little. ‘I should have stayed, but I just couldn’t.’

‘Of course you couldn’t,’ said Nancy warmly. ‘If you mean was he unhappy about it—no, I don’t think he was; his pride had had a nasty jolt and he was worried about people talking. Are you really going to work for Benedict?’

‘Oh, yes, it sounds the kind of job I can manage without falling flat on my face, he said he’d tell me about it when he comes this morning.’

‘He’d better stay to lunch,’ said Nancy.

Benedict arrived at ten o’clock, declined coffee, enquired if Prudence was ready and when she had got a jacket to cover her jersey dress, walked her briskly to Highgate Ponds, across Parliament Hill and so on to Hampstead Heath. He didn’t talk about anything much until they were turning back in the direction of Highgate Ponds once more, and as for Prudence, she was happy to walk and enjoy her surroundings and not think too much.

They had been silent in a comfortable companionship way for a minute or two when he asked to surprise her: ‘Do you have any money of your own?’

She stared at him in surprise. ‘Me? Yes, a small income from some money my godmother left me. Why?’

‘It makes it so much easier,’ he explained. ‘If you don’t like the job you won’t feel that you must stay because you need the money.’

‘I hadn’t thought of that. But I’m sure I’ll like it; I do want to do something, not just stay at home. Mother and Father don’t actually need me there, in fact Mother has been hinting for months that it would be nice when Tony and I got married.’

He made no comment, but asked: ‘You’re sure it is what you want? It’s not in the least exciting and there will be no regular hours—though I’ll see that you get a day to yourself each week. Bring your car over if you like so that you can get around.’

‘Thank you. I can’t speak a word of Dutch.’

‘You’ll soon pick it up,’ he dismissed that airily, ‘and you’ll be dealing with my English correspondence.’

‘Yes, but does your little girl speak English?’

‘After a fashion. I’d be glad if you’d speak nothing but your own language with her.’

‘And what else would you want me to do?’

‘Be a Girl Friday, or if that’s too frivolous for you, a Universal Aunt.’

Prudence frowned; she might be removed from her first youth, but she felt that she was hardly eligible to be something as staid as a Universal Aunt. ‘I think a household assistant sounds better,’ she observed coldly.

‘Whatever you like,’ agreed Benedict suavely, ‘but I shall continue to call you Prudence.’

‘Shall I have to call you Dr van Vinke?’

‘I think it might be a good idea if you’re taking letters or if there are patients present, don’t you?’

They were almost back at the flat and he slowed his steps. ‘Would you like me to come down and see your parents? They don’t know me, only as James’ friend…’

‘That would be kind if you can spare the time.’

‘I’ll give you a ring. Now as to salary—how about seventy pounds a week—or the equivalent in gulden?’

‘That’s far too much!’ Prudence was quite shocked.

‘Wait until you’ve worked for a couple of weeks before you say that,’ he counselled. ‘I shall expect value for my money.’

She wasn’t sure if she liked that. She said stiffly: ‘I shall do my best.’

And that seemed to be the end of it, for the time being at least. Over lunch he and James argued good-naturedly as to the best route for her to take and before he went he remarked casually that he would let her know more when he next saw her at Little Amwell. His goodbye was casual in the extreme.

He arrived at Little Amwell four days later, which gave Prudence time to tell her parents what she intended doing and allowed them to recover from the shock, although she rather suspected that they weren’t unduly upset about her broken engagement. It was, of course, a little awkward having to tell people, but luckily in a village the size of Little Amwell news travelled fast if not always with accuracy. Mabel was told as befitted an old friend, but it wasn’t until Mrs Pett, who ran the general stores and Post Office, made a coy reference to Tony’s absence that Prudence observed flatly that she was no longer engaged and was on the point of taking a job. Mrs Pett’s rather bulbous eyes almost popped from her head. ‘My dear soul—and after all this long time, too!’

‘Almost four years,’ Prudence reminded her, and looked pointedly at the list of groceries she had to buy. ‘I’d better have tasty cheese, Mrs Pett,’—she only sold two kinds, tasty and mild, ‘I should think half a pound would do.’

Mrs Pett dealt with the cheese. ‘So you’re going away, Miss Prudence—you’ll be missed.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Pett.’ Prudence wasn’t going to be drawn into details; no doubt Mrs Pett would invent those when she passed on the news. She finished her shopping and went back home and spent the rest of the morning going through her wardrobe, deciding what she should take with her. She must remember to ask Benedict what the weather was like in Holland and should she take winter clothes as well or would she be able to come home and collect them later, if she stayed. She might not be suitable—his small daughter might not like her, her shorthand might not stand up to dictation. She had the sneaking feeling that Benedict, placid and friendly as he was, might present quite a different aspect once he got back to his own home and took up a busy routine again. It was a sobering thought, and she spent most of the next day taking down imaginary letters and typing them back not always as successfully as she could wish. Still, she told herself, if she was to look after the little girl and help around the house, there wouldn’t be all that time to do his correspondence, and anyway, he couldn’t have all that much in English. The thought cheered her so that she flung her notebook down and took Podge the elderly spaniel for an extra long walk.

When she got home there was an Aston Martin Volante outside the front door, dark blue, elegant and powerful. She and Podge circled it slowly before she went indoors, admiring it. ‘Very expensive,’ said Prudence to the dog, ‘and fast—it must drink petrol like I drink tea!’

In the sitting room her mother and father were entertaining Benedict, but they stopped talking as she went in. She greeted him unselfconsciously, adding: ‘What a nice car you’ve got—I didn’t know that you had one over here.’