A Gentle Awakening

She had a good deal more leisure for the rest of the week. Sir William left early on the Monday morning, but that leisure was very much encroached on by Pauline, who attached herself to Florina at every possible moment. Though Florina, who had perforce led a somewhat solitary life, enjoyed her company; it was fun to show the child where she could find mushrooms and wild strawberries, sit by the river and watch for water voles, and feed the swans. Pauline, who had spent almost all her life in London, loved every minute of it. But, if life was pleasant while she was at the Wheel House, it was uncomfortable at home. Her father had indeed written to her aunt, and received a reply, full of enthusiasm for his scheme and suggesting that she would be ready to join him in a couple of weeks’ time, news which apparently gave him no pleasure at all. Not that he wanted Florina to change her plans. Indeed, she had told him Mrs Frobisher knew that she was willing to live in, providing Sir William agreed. Cutting sandwiches for Pauline’s tea, she had never felt so happy.

It had to be too good to last. On Friday morning she began her preparations for the weekend. She and Mrs Frobisher had decided on a menu, and the housekeeper had gone to Wilton and bought everything for Florina on her list, so it had only remained for her to assemble them ready for Saturday evening. Mrs Frobisher, who seemed to like her, in a guarded manner, had taken her upstairs in the afternoon to show her the guest room.

‘Miss Fortesque is used to town ways,’ she explained. ‘She’ll expect her breakfast in bed…’ She sniffed. ‘She’ll not want me here when they’re married.’

‘But were you not Pauline’s Nanny?’

‘And Sir William’s before her.’ Miss Fortesque forgotten momentarily, Mrs Frobisher threw open the two doors close to the room they were viewing. ‘Guest rooms,’ she pointed out. ‘Pauline’s room is on the other side of the landing, as is Sir William’s. You’ve noticed that there are more rooms above the kitchen. The housekeeper’s—I sleep on this landing at present because otherwise Pauline would be alone… There is another bathroom and a third bedroom. I dare say Miss Fortesque will want someone else to live in. It’s a large house and I doubt if she knows what a duster looks like.’

Certainly, dusters were the last things one would think of at the sight of Miss Fortesque, thought Florina, watching from the kitchen window as she stepped from Sir William’s car on Saturday morning. She was the picture of elegance, the sort of elegance never seen in the village: a sleeveless dress of what Florina was sure was pure silk in palest blue, Italian sandals and enormous hoop earrings matching the gold bracelets on her arms. Florina sighed without knowing it, twitched her apron so that it covered her small person correctly, and went back to the preparation of crêpes de volaille Florentine. She was making the cheese sauce when Sir William wandered into the kitchen.

‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Every time I see you, you’re slaving over a hot stove.’

She couldn’t prevent her delight at seeing him showing on her face, although she didn’t know that. ‘I’m the cook, sir,’ she reminded him.

‘Yes—I seem to have difficulty in remembering that.’ He smiled at her and called over his shoulder, ‘Wanda, come and meet Florina.’

Miss Fortesque strolled in and linked an arm in his. ‘Oh, hello. You’re the cook?’

The air positively hummed with their mutual dislike, instantly recognized, even if silent. Sir William watched them from half-shut lids.

‘Florina is our treasure—she cooks like a dream, and Pauline considers her to be her best friend.’

Wanda opened large blue eyes. ‘Oh, the poor child, has she no friends of her own sort?’ She made a small gesture. ‘Is it wise to let her live here, William? At a good boarding-school she would make friends with all the right children.’

‘Who are the right children?’ he asked carelessly. ‘Don’t be a snob, Wanda. Pauline is happy; she’ll be going to day school in Wilton in September, and there’s plenty to occupy her here meantime.’ He glanced at Florina. ‘Does she bother you, Florina?’

‘Not in the least, Sir William. She is learning to cook and she spends a great deal of time gardening. She and Mrs Frobisher go for long walks.’

Miss Fortesque turned on her heel. ‘Oh, well, if you’re quite content to leave her with the servants…’ She smiled bewitchingly, ‘I shall alter all that, of course. When are the others arriving?’

Florina was left to seethe over the Aga. The horrible girl was quite unsuitable to be Sir William’s wife, and she would be a disastrous stepmother. If Sir William was as easy-going as he appeared to be, then Pauline would find herself at a boarding-school, and she and Nanny would be out of jobs. Not too bad for Nanny, for she had already officially retired, but it would mean finding work for herself, and away from home, too.

Despite her rage, she served up a lunch which was perfection itself, and shared a quick meal with Nanny. When Sir William, with his fiancée and Pauline, had driven off for a brief tour of the surrounding country, Florina arranged the tea tray and then got down to preparing dinner. The house was quiet: Mrs Frobisher had gone to put her feet up before tea, Mrs Deakin was doing the last of the washing up and Florina concentrated on her cooking. By the time she heard the car stop by the house, she was satisfied that there was nothing more to do for an hour or so.

Two other cars arrived then, and Mrs Frobisher, much refreshed by the nap, carried in the tea tray and the assortment of cakes and sandwiches Florina had got ready, before she came back to share a pot of tea with Florina.

The kitchen was warm; she opened the windows wide and sat down gratefully, listening to Mrs Frobisher describing Sir William’s guests. Rather nice, she was told, and had known him for years—doctors and their wives, rather older than he was.

‘And, of course, Miss Fortesque,’ added Nanny, and she sounded as though she had inadvertently sucked on a lemon. ‘A well preserved woman, one might say, but of course she spends a great deal of time and money upon herself.’

Obviously Nanny didn’t approve of Sir William’s Wanda, but Florina didn’t dare to say so; she murmured vaguely and her companion went on, ‘Had her claws into him for months. I’m surprised at him—she’ll be a bad wife for him and a worse stepmother for my little Pauline.’ She passed her cup for more tea. ‘He’s so busy with all those sick children, he only sees her when she’s dressed up and all charm and prettiness. Of course, that’s very nice for the gentlemen when they’ve had a hard day’s work, but when all’s said and done they want a wife as well, someone who’ll sit on the opposite side of the fireplace and knit while he reads the papers, listen when he wants to talk, and love his children.’ Nanny snorted. ‘All she likes to do is dance and play bridge.’

‘Perhaps she’ll change,’ suggested Florina gently, not quite sure if she should voice an opinion. Nanny was obviously labouring under strong feelings, and possibly she would regret her outburst later on.

‘You’re a good girl,’ said Nanny, ‘I’ve wanted to say all that to someone for weeks, and you’re the only person I’ve felt I could talk to.’

To Florina’s distress, Mrs Frobisher’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I had him as a baby,’ she said.

‘They’re not married yet,’ ventured Florina. She added, very thoughtfully, ‘It just needs someone to give fate a push and change things…’

Mrs Frobisher blew her nose, an awesome sound. ‘You’re a sensible girl as well as a good one, Florina.’

Florina dished up a splendid dinner: artichoke hearts with a sharp dressing of her own invention, lobster cardinal, medallions of beef with a wine sauce and truffles, and tiny pancakes filled with strawberries and smothered in thick cream.

When the coffee tray had gone in, she and Nanny sat down to eat what was left, before Nanny went away to see Pauline into bed. Mrs Deakin had come back to help with the clearing up, but all the same the evening was far gone, and Sir William seeing his guests on their way, by the time they were finished in the kitchen. Florina set everything ready for the morning, changed into her dress and, with Mrs Deakin for company, locked the kitchen door after her and started for home.

They were at the gate when Sir William loomed out from the shrubs alongside the short drive. ‘A delightful meal, Florina! My compliments, and thank you, and Mrs Deakin, for working late.’

Mrs Deakin muttered happily; she was being paid overtime, and generously, for any work she did over and above her normal hours. Florina said quietly, ‘Thank you, Sir William. Goodnight.’

He would go into his lovely house presently, she supposed, and Wanda would be waiting for him. Florina had caught a glimpse of her during the evening—a vision in scarlet chiffon. Enough to turn any man’s head, even that of the placid, good-natured Sir William.

She was making a salad the next day when Miss Fortesque, in a startling blue jersey dress and a great many gold bangles, strolled into the kitchen.

‘Hello, Cook, busy among your saucepans again? It’s really surprising that even in the depths of the country it’s possible to find someone who can turn out a decent meal.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘After town standards, you know, one hardly expects it.’

Florina shredded lettuce with hands which shook very slightly with temper, and said nothing.

‘That sauce last night,’ continued her visitor, ‘I fancied that there was a touch too much garlic in it. Sir William didn’t complain—he’s really too easy-going…’

‘When Sir William complains to me, Miss Fortesque, I shall listen to him,’ said Florina very evenly.

Wanda’s eyes opened wide. ‘Don’t you dare to speak to me like that, Cook! I’ll have you dismissed…’ She advanced, rather unwisely, too close to Florina, who had started to whip up a dressing for the salad. She increased her beating with a vigour which sent oily drops in all directions. The blue dress would never be the same again; a shower of little blobs had made a graceful pattern down its front.

Wanda’s breath was a hiss of fury. ‘You clumsy fool—look what you’ve done! It’s ruined—I’ll have to have a new dress, and I’ll see that it’s stopped out of your wages! I’ll…’

Sir William’s voice, very placid, cut her short. ‘My dear Wanda, if you hadn’t been standing so close, it wouldn’t have happened. You can’t blame Florina, you’ve only yourself to thank. Surely you know that cooks must be left in peace in their kitchens when they are cooking?’

Wanda shot him a furious glance. She said pettishly, ‘I’ll have to go and change. I hope you’ll give the girl a good telling-off.’

She flounced out of the kitchen and Florina began to slice tomatoes very thinly. Sir William spoke from the door. ‘I found the sauce exactly right,’ he said gently, and wandered away.

He took his fiancée back to town that evening, leaving behind a rather unhappy Pauline. He sought out Florina before he left, to tell her that for the next few weeks, while the child was on holiday, he would come down each weekend on Friday afternoons, and drive back early on Monday morning.

‘Nanny tells me that you may decide to move in with us. Your father doesn’t object to being alone?’

Her aunt had written to say that she would be arriving at the end of the week. She told him this, leaving out the details. He nodded pleasantly. ‘I’m sure it will give you more leisure. I hope you’ll be happy here. Pauline will be over the moon when you tell her.’

She thought wistfully that it would have been nice if he had expressed the same satisfaction, even if in a more modified form. She bade him a quiet good-night, more or less drowned by Miss Fortesque’s voice, pitched high, demanding that they should leave at once.

The week unfolded at a leisurely pace; Florina packed her things, got her room ready for her aunt and moved to the Wheel House. Her father bade her goodbye with no sign of regret, merely warning her again that she need not expect to go crying back to him when she found herself out of a job. She received this remark without rancour, aware that if he should fall ill again the first thing that he would do would be to demand that she should return home to look after him.

She enjoyed arranging her few possessions in her room at Wheel House, helped by a delighted Pauline. Once settled in, she found that she had a good deal more leisure. Cooking for the three of them took up only a part of her day; she helped Nanny with the ironing and the cleaning of the silver, took Pauline mushrooming in the early mornings, and, with Mrs Frobisher’s consent, started to give her cooking lessons. By the time Sir William arrived on Friday afternoon, there was a dish of jam tarts and a fruit cake, a little soggy in the middle but still edible, both of which Pauline bore to the tea table with pride. Sir William, a kind and loving parent, ate quantities of both.

The weekend was one of the happiest Florina had spent for a long time. For one thing, there was a peaceful content over the old home. Sir William insisted that they all breakfast together in the kitchen, a meal which Florina cooked with an almost painful wish to serve up something to perfection, just to please him. She succeeded very well; he ate everything put before him, carrying on a cheerful conversation meanwhile, even making Nanny laugh, something she seldom did. They were at the toast and marmalade stage on Saturday morning, when Pauline said, ‘I wish it could be like this always—just us, Daddy—you and me and Nanny and Florina. Must you marry Wanda? She wouldn’t sit at the kitchen table, and she’s always fussing about eating in case she gets fat.’

Florina saw the look on Sir William’s face. There was a nasty temper hidden away behind that calm exterior, and to avert it she got to her feet, exclaiming loudly, ‘Shall I make another pot of coffee? And how about more toast?’ At the same time she cast a warning glance at Pauline.