Matilda's Wedding

Well, of course; any idiot could see that, thought Matilda. But he was being polite. She said ‘Yes,’ and ‘Good morning, Doctor,’ and walked on.

She wasn’t out of earshot when she heard the young woman’s voice—well modulated but carrying. ‘What a quaint little thing,’ she remarked.

And what had she meant by that? reflected Matilda. She had reached the field and could utter her thoughts out loud. ‘I’m plain and a bit dowdy, I suppose, but otherwise I look as normal as anyone else. Well, I shan’t let it upset me.’

All the same she dressed carefully for church on Sunday—her good suit of timeless cut, and the small felt hat which went with it. Her gloves and shoes had seen better days but they were good and she didn’t need a handbag; she tucked her collection money into her glove.

Mrs Milton came early to fetch them and since Matilda was not quite ready, her mother and father were driven away in the car and she walked to the village, getting to the church just as the bell ceased.

The congregation was quite large and she saw that her mother and father were sitting in one of the front pews with Mrs Milton, but her plan to slip into a pew at the back of the church was frustrated by her mother who had turned round and seen her. When she reached the pew she saw the doctor and his guests sitting on the opposite side of the aisle just behind them. She had only a glimpse as she went past but it was enough to see that the girl with him was the picture of elegance…

Matilda reminded herself that she was in church as she said her prayers and sang the hymns and listened to the sermon, but once the service was over and they were outside in the churchyard, meeting various people kind Mrs Milton was introducing to her mother and father, she allowed her thoughts to dwell on the doctor and his companions, standing close by, talking to Lady Truscott. She edged away from them and took shelter behind Mrs Milton, only to find the two groups merging.

Mrs Milton said, ‘Of course you’ve met Mr and Mrs Paige, haven’t you? And Matilda works for you.’

She looked enquiringly at him and he said easily, ‘Two friends of mine, spending the weekend: Lucilla Armstrong and her brother Guy.’

He turned to look at them. ‘Mrs Milton, the vicar’s wife, and the Reverend Mr Paige and Mrs Paige—and their daughter, Matilda.’

Lucilla acknowledged the introductions with a cool nod. ‘We saw you yesterday.’ Her eyes roamed over Matilda’s person. ‘I wondered who you were.’

Matilda said in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘I’d been to do the shopping. I’m surprised that you remembered me. I must have looked quaint laden down with plastic bags.’ She smiled sweetly and the doctor choked back a laugh. Miss Matilda Paige had revealed an unexpected side of her nature—or was he mistaken? Had her remark been as guileless as her ordinary face?

There was polite talk for a few more minutes before Mrs Milton said, ‘We mustn’t stand around too long. I’m going to drive Mr and Mrs Paige back home—and you too, of course, Matilda.’ She smiled at the circle of faces around her.

‘I hope you have a pleasant weekend here. I’m sure it’s good for Henry to relax from his work.’

Henry, thought Matilda, taking care not to look at him. A nice old-fashioned English name. She looked at his other guest instead. Guy Armstrong was good-looking, she conceded, but he had a weak chin and he laughed too much; besides, by the time he was forty he would be fat…

She added her polite goodbyes to everyone else’s and got into Mrs Milton’s car, sitting in the back with her father because her mother wanted to ask about some extra committee Mrs Milton had suggested that she might like to join.

And back home over lunch, while her mother talked animatedly of the people she had met at church and the prospect of a social life even if limited to the village, Matilda had ample free time to think about Dr Lovell. She thought about Lucilla, too, who would be an ideal wife for him. She was not as young as Matilda had first thought—indeed, Lucilla must be edging very close to thirty—but she was so beautifully cared for that no man would believe that… And, of course, her lovely clothes helped.

I’m jealous, thought Matilda, but I can’t help that. I should be glad that he has found someone who will make him happy.

She went to the kitchen to wash up, while her mother, still happily making plans, went with her father to the sitting room.

‘Perhaps I should find another job.’ Matilda addressed Rastus, who gave her a considering look before tucking into his dinner. ‘But if I did I’d not see him, would I? And I couldn’t bear that. Of course when they marry she will get me the sack. She doesn’t like me, which is silly, for I’m hardly a rival, am I?’

Rastus, nicely full, sat and stared at her. ‘You’re not much help, are you?” said Matilda.

It was pouring with rain on Monday morning. Matilda, wringing herself dry before she opened the surgery door, mopped her face and tugged her wet hair back into a semblance of tidiness and, still a bit damp, got out the notes for the morning’s patients. She then opened the door, casting a quick look round the waiting room as she did so. It was spotlessly clean and the chrysanthemums she had brought from the garden made a cheerful spot of colour beside the tidy pile of magazines on the table; the place was nicely warm too.

The first patients arrived, shedding wet macs, umbrellas and leaving muddy marks on the floor, and punctually at eight o’clock the doctor opened his door and requested the first patient.

By the time the last patient had left it was well past ten o’clock. Matilda started to tidy the place, lock away the notes, rearrange the magazines and collect up forgotten gloves, a scarf or two and a child’s plastic toy, and, tucked away in a corner, a shopping bag of groceries. She would take it over to Mrs Simpkins’ shop since the surgery door would be locked…

The door opened and the doctor stood looking at her.

‘You had better have a cup of coffee before you go,’ he said briskly.

Matilda put the shopping bag on the table. ‘Thank you, Doctor, but I’d rather not stop.’

‘You mustn’t allow hurt pride to interfere with common sense,’ he observed. ‘Far be it from me to send you out into this weather without so much as a warm drink inside you.’

‘Hurt pride?’ said Matilda, and then added, ‘Oh, the first morning when you told me not to watch the clock. Oh, that’s all right; I’m not one to bear a grudge!’

She smiled and went past him into the surgery where the coffee tray stood on his desk.

‘You are happy working here?’ asked Dr Lovell, taking his coffee and offering her a biscuit from the tin.

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘It is rather a quiet life for you,’ went on the doctor. ‘Miss Armstrong wondered if you found life here dull.’

‘How kind of her to concern herself about me,’ said Matilda in a quiet voice which gave away none of the powerful rage engulfing her. The interfering busybody… A first step towards getting her the sack.

‘She pointed out that you are very young for such a dull job. Of course Miss Brimble was elderly.’

‘As long as you are satisfied with my work,’ said Matilda, ‘I wish to stay here. And if I stay long enough I’ll be elderly like Miss Brimble! Won’t I?’

She put down her coffee cup. ‘Is there anything you would like me to do before I go?’

‘No, I think not.’

‘Thank you for the coffee. I’ll be here this evening.’

She skipped through the door, locked up and went out into the rain, crossing the road to the shop.

‘Someone left their groceries at the surgery,’ she told Mrs Simpkins. ‘Shall I leave the bag here? Or if you know who the owner is I could take it.’

‘Bless you, miss; that’s a kind thought. It’s old Mrs Harding’s weekly shopping. Lives just down the street, number fourteen on the other side. She’s that forgetful. If it’s not troubling you…’

Mrs Simpkins leaned comfortably across the counter. ‘Saw you in church,’ she said. ‘Very nice you looked, too—a sight better than that madam with our doctor. Mrs Inch— ’is ’ousekeeper, you know—told me she acted like she was in an ’otel. Can’t think what ’e sees in ’er.’

‘She’s quite beautiful,’ said Matilda. ‘I’ll have a piece of tasty cheese, Mrs Simpkins, and some of those dry cheese biscuits.’

Mrs Simpkins reached for the cheese. ‘Bin inside ’is ’ouse? Lovely, so I’m told—furniture ’anded down from way back in the family. Bin in the village for years and years. ’E don’t need to earn ’is living, of course; plenty of family money as you might say. A fine catch for that Miss Armstrong.’

She reached up for a packet of biscuits. ‘I hear your mum’s going to Lady Truscott’s for the charity committee meeting. Don’t see much of ’er in the village, though. Poorly, is she, like your dad?’

‘No, no, Mother’s very well, but you know how it is when you move house. But we’ve settled in nicely and my father is so much better now that he has retired.’

Matilda said goodbye, and left to deliver the shopping bag, then hurry home in the rain. Mrs Simpkins, watching her go, thought what a dull life she must lead with two elderly parents and no young man.

Another week went by and another pay day, and even after bolstering up the housekeeping purse and paying the small outstanding debts Matilda had some money. True, her mother had wheedled some of it for herself so that she might go to Taunton once again. She must look her best when she went to Lady Truscott’s, she’d pointed out; she would make do with the clothes she had but her hair must be trimmed and set and a few highlights added. Surely Matilda could understand that. ‘And really you have nothing to spend your money on, Matilda. There’s nothing to be done about your hair except bundle it up like you do, and you don’t need to look fashionable. No one sees you at the surgery and you’ve got that winter coat once it gets really cold.’

All of which was perfectly true. Matilda said nothing for the simple reason that if she did she might say something she would regret afterwards.