No Need to Say Goodbye

They looked at each other and smiled happily and went up the stairs.

The bathroom was almost a museum piece with a bath on claw feet in the centre of the bare floor, but the geyser above it looked modern enough. The washbasin was large and, like the bath, white, with brass taps and a wooden cupboard beneath it concealing a multitude of pipes. There was lino on the floor here, too, badly in need of replacement.

There were three bedrooms, one large enough for Zoë and Christine, and two smaller ones for Mike and Louise, and at the back of the landing a tiny curved staircase leading to an attic with windows back and front.

Louise caught Mike’s look. ‘Once we are in and things have got sorted out, we might turn this into a room for you, Mike; that would give us a spare room. What do you all think of it? Will you be happy here?’

Their chorus of delight almost deafened her.

‘We’ll go and find somewhere where we can have coffee. Then, Mike, will you check the lights? Zoë and Christine, you have got the tape measure? We shall need curtains everywhere; I’m going to see if I can get hold of someone to look at that Aga, and we’ll have to have the floors done. But first we must clean up the place and polish the furniture; we can use most of it except that big bed upstairs. I think there will be enough money to get emulsion and do the painting—if we all come here on my next nights off, we should be able to get a good deal done. We’ll have to picnic.’ She frowned. ‘I might be able to find someone in the village who would give us bed and breakfast…’

A question solved for her, for, when they got back after having coffee, Miss Wills knocked briskly on the door, introduced herself and suggested without preamble that they might be glad of her help.

‘You intend to live here? I thought that you might; it is a dear little house, and so convenient. If you will allow me, I will point out what needs to be done.’

Which she did, at the same time giving the names and addresses of those who might undertake the various repairs. Her sharp eyes swept over the little group surrounding her. ‘I expect you will do your own painting and cleaning?’

Louise nodded. ‘Oh, yes. We haven’t much money, but I can see that there are some repairs which must be done before we can move in. I can’t leave my job for another three weeks, although I can come down for my nights off.’

Miss Wills coughed. ‘I have retired, as you must know; my sister and I share a house in the village. We do bed and breakfast, but at this time of the year we have rooms to spare. You are all welcome to have beds and breakfasts at a nominal sum.’

Louise gazed at the elderly lady facing her; she had spoken briskly and her severe features had relaxed only slightly, but Louise sensed that she was being friendly and sincere. She said, ‘That is very kind of you, Miss Wills. I haven’t got things worked out yet, but I think that we might all come down on my next nights off and get the house cleaned and begin the painting. Do you suppose that it would be too soon if I were to come back tomorrow and see about carpets and the Aga? If the floors are done, it will be so much easier to move the furniture around and bring down what we have in Hoxton.’

‘I don’t see why not. You need Mr Baxter for the Aga and Ted Poolley for the floors—you’ll need to do the cleaning and painting first before he comes, of course, but you could discuss what you need and get an estimate.’

So matters were arranged, and Miss Wills took herself off with a further recommendation to Louise to let her know if she needed a bed at any time.

‘Well, I must say,’ declared Louise when she had gone, ‘it’s as though our fairy godmother has turned up at last.’

It seemed as if she were right. Mr Baxter, when she saw him the next day, undertook to deal with the Aga, put new washers on all the taps and give the plumbing what he called the ‘once over’, and Ted Poolley, a tall, spidery man who had almost nothing to say, agreed to measure up the kitchen and bathroom floors for a good hardwearing covering and left a book of samples for carpeting. Louise wasn’t sure if there would be enough money for that and she said so, whereupon he advised her to put an advertisement in Mrs Potter’s newspaper shop window, and sell anything she didn’t want in the house. She thanked him, went round the place with pencil and paper and found that there were quite a few tables and chairs, as well as the bed, which she didn’t need. She wrote out her advertisement before she did anything else, and took it with her when she went to buy Harpic, liquid soap and a strong disinfectant. She bore these back with her and began a vigorous cleaning session, draped in an old apron she had found hanging in the kitchen. She paused for sandwiches and a pot of tea in the middle of the day and, satisfied with the cleanliness of the kitchen, started on the bedroom. She was on her knees poking under the cupboard when she heard footsteps in the hall below. Someone come to inspect the furniture she hoped to sell? She got to her feet, just in time to see Dr van der Linden open the door wide and come in.

She stood, a deplorable sight in her old apron, her hair tied back anyhow, her face shining with her efforts, her hands and arms wrinkled from hot soapsuds, and she gaped at him. ‘Whatever are you doing here?’ She added a ‘sir’ hastily, and closed her mouth with something of a snap.

‘I happened to be passing; I’ll give you a lift back.’

‘But I’m not ready, it’s only three o’clock—I mean to catch the train that leaves just after five. It’s very kind of you…’

‘I don’t intend to leave until five o’clock in any case.’ He smiled at her, and she wondered why he looked so amused.

‘Oh, you’ve a patient here?’

‘No—at least, not one that I need to visit. I live here.’

Her pretty mouth dropped open once more. ‘Live here? Do you? In Much Hadham?’

He came right into the room and sat down on a chair. ‘Yes. In the High Street.’ He named one of the large eighteenth-century houses, dignified bow-windowed residences with splendid doorways, opening straight on to the street, but with large walled gardens at their backs.

‘Well, I never,’ observed Louise rather inadequately. ‘I thought you lived somewhere in London.’ She blushed as she spoke, because it sounded as though she took an interest in his private life.

He watched the blush with pleasure. ‘I have a flat there, but I do my best to spend as much time as possible here.’ He stretched his long legs comfortably. ‘Don’t let me interrupt your work. When do you move?’

‘Oh, in a week or two; there’s quite a lot to be done first, and we can stay in Hoxton until the month’s notice is up.’ She began to wash the paintwork of the cupboard; it was all very well for her visitor to take his ease; she needed every minute of her free time if the house was to be fit to move into.

‘Have you found another job?’ he wanted to know.

She gave the cupboard a final wipe, and sat back on her heels to admire her handiwork. ‘Well, I haven’t had much time,’ she pointed out reasonably. ‘I thought I’d try Stevenage; it’s a pretty big place, and there’s a lot of industry there and probably the hospital could do with more staff…’

‘But perhaps not a sister’s post—will you settle for day duty?’

He spoke idly and she answered him with unthinking frankness. ‘Oh, lord, yes. I’m not going to be fussy. I shan’t have any rent to pay here; you have no idea what a fantastic difference that will make; so I can take anything I’m offered. I’d rather have a ward, of course, but I’m not out for promotion; this—’ she waved a soapy arm around her ‘—is quite the most wonderful thing that has happened to us for ages…for a longtime.’

‘Since your parents died?’ said Dr van der Linden softly.

She scrubbed a windowsill with vigour; her quite wretched tongue, running away with her like that. She said ‘yes’, shortly and added, ‘It’s a lovely day…’

The doctor’s eyes gleamed with amusement. ‘Indeed it is. Do you know anyone living here?’

‘No—Well, Miss Wills, who kept house for my great-aunt, she called yesterday and was very helpful—about plumbers and all that.’

‘A nice old lady—very respected in the village. There are some good schools round and about, but I expect you know that.’

‘No, I didn’t, but I hoped there would be.’ Louise put up a wet hand and swept back a lock of dark hair. ‘State or private?’

‘Both. Possibly your brother and sister might get scholarships. Are they happy where they are at present?’

She was polishing a small toilet mirror on the chest of drawers; it was apple wood, not valuable but nicely made with a well-fitting drawer beneath it; with the dust washed off it, it was quite charming. ‘They hate it,’ she told him.

‘And you? You have hated living in Hoxton?’

She nodded. ‘It’s been worse for Zoë—she’s young and so pretty, and she has had no fun.’

He gave her a thoughtful look; he could only see her profile. She had a determined chin; probably she was an obstinate girl, and proud.

‘Very pretty,’ he agreed blandly. ‘I have no doubt that she will find a job and friends without any difficulty. How long are you going to kneel there, scrubbing?’

‘Until five o’clock, Dr van der Linden.’ Something in her voice implied that it was time that they got back to their usual relationship of cool, friendly respect.

He ignored it. ‘You don’t mind if I call you Louise? After all, you are not on duty now.’ He didn’t wait for her to answer, but got to his feet and strolled to the door. ‘I’ll be back here at five o’clock; we’ll have tea and I will drive you back home.’

He had gone while she was still trying to find a good reason for not accepting his invitation.

‘Well,’ said Louise indignantly, addressing the empty room, ‘it was more of an order.’ She frowned. ‘And I talked too much. Whatever came over me?’

She attacked the bedside table with unnecessary force; it was an ordinary white-painted piece of furniture, like the bed, but when the room was carpeted and curtained and there were flowers and ornaments around it would do very well. She worked with a will; by five to five she was finished and had tidied away the bucket and brush, washed out the apron, combed her hair and done something to her face. Her hands were still red, but at least they were clean and she had nice nails, well kept and a good shape. She was locking the back door when Dr van der Linden opened the front door and walked in.

‘Punctual,’ he commented pleasantly. ‘You bring your disciplined working life into your private living. Very commendable.’

A remark to which for some reason Louise took exception.