When Two Paths Meet

‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Dowling. Do you want me to help with dinner? I could carry in the dishes for you.’

‘They wouldn’t like that, thanks all the same. Besides, you’ll be busy enough; they ring the bell half a dozen times in an evening for me…’

‘Oh, well,’ said Katherine cheerfully, ‘they won’t need to do that now, will they? You must have been busy.’

Mrs Dowling watched her go back upstairs. Not such a bad young woman, after all, she decided. No looks, but a nice voice, and not in the least bossy.

Mr and Mrs Grainger didn’t appear to have moved when Katherine went back into the drawing-room. She poured their sherry, accepted a glass for herself, and made gentle small talk until Mrs Dowling appeared to say that dinner was on the table. And from then on the evening went well. The old people liked to talk; indeed, half the time they talked at the same time, interrupting each other quite ruthlessly.

Katherine fetched their hot milky drinks from the kitchen at ten o’clock and then saw them upstairs, staying with Mrs Grainger until that lady declared that she could very easily manage for herself.

‘And if I wake in the night, my dear, there’s a bell in my room. Mr Grainger has one, too. I must say it’s a comfort to have you here.’ She bade Katherine a kind goodnight. ‘We’ll have a nice little talk in the morning,’ she promised.

Katherine unpacked, admired her room, had a leisurely bath and thought how lovely it was to have a bathroom all to herself. She thought, too, fleetingly of Henry and Joyce, and felt guilty because she hadn’t missed them or the children. I can’t be a very nice person, she reflected as she curled up snugly in her bed. Not that the idea kept her awake; she slept within moments of her head touching the pillow.

Twenty-four hours later, tired though she was, she stayed awake long enough to review her day. Not too bad, she thought sleepily. The highlight of it had been the doctor’s visit, although he had been impersonal in his manner towards her; all the same, he had smiled nicely at her when he left, and expressed the view that she was exactly right for the job. The old people were demanding in a nice way, but they seemed to like her, and even Mrs Dowling had unbent a little. She had had no chance to go out, or even take an hour off, but she had hardly expected that for the first day; it had been filled with undertaking the multiple small tasks the Graingers expected of her. Going upstairs to fetch a forgotten book, Katherine found time to sympathise with Mrs Dowling, who must have been dead on her feet by bedtime…

All the same, she had been happy. The house was warm, cheerful and charmingly furnished, she had a delightful room all to herself, the meals were elegantly served and the whole tempo of life slowed down. And, over and above all that, she would be paid. It was a splendid thought on which to close her eyes.

The week wound to a close. By Saturday she had found her feet, and for the last two days she had gone out while Mr and Mrs Grainger snoozed on their beds after lunch. Mrs Dowling, she discovered, liked to put her feet up after tea for an hour or so, and Katherine had offered to do any small chores for her during that time, an offer accepted rather ungraciously by that lady.

Katherine had spent her two brief outings window-shopping. She saw at once that forty pounds would go nowhere; she would have to buy essentials during the first few weeks then save up. All the same, she was willing to wait until she had enough money to buy the kind of clothes she wanted; good clothes, well cut and well made.

On Saturday night she had gone to bed content; she had found her week’s wages on the breakfast table, and that afternoon she had gone to Marks and Spencer and spent almost all of it on undies. A methodical girl, she had made a list of the clothes she intended to buy, and crossed out the first line with satisfaction; next week it would almost certainly have to be a dress, Marks and Spencer again, something simple and unobtrusive to tide her over until she could afford something better. And perhaps a nightie? She hated the plain cotton ones she had had for so long.

On Sunday the Graingers went to church. It was a major undertaking, getting them there, for they insisted on walking through the close, a journey which took a considerable time at their leisurely pace. Katherine, between them, her arms supporting them, was thankful that the sun shone and that the early morning frost had dwindled away. And when they reached the cathedral there was still quite a long walk through the vast building to the seats they always occupied. But once settled between them, she was able to flex her tired arms and look around her. It was some years since she had been there, and she looked around her with peaceful content. They were seated near the pulpit, and she had a splendid view of the great building; she would be able to come as often as she liked, she thought with satisfaction, for it was barely five minutes’ walk for her. The opening hymn was announced, and she helped her companions to their feet as the choir processed to their stalls.

The congregation was a large one and leaving the cathedral took time. They were outside, beginning their slow progress back home, when Dr Fitzroy joined them. There was a young woman with him, tall and good-looking and beautifully dressed. Dodie, thought Katherine, bristling to instant dislike; and she was right, for the young woman bent to kiss the old lady and then pat her grandfather on his arm with a gentle pressure.

‘Darlings!’ she declared in a clear, high voice. ‘How lovely to see you, and how well you look.’

She had very blue eyes; she turned them on Katherine for an indifferent moment. Her nod, when the doctor introduced Katherine, was perfunctory.

‘So clever of you, Jason, to find someone so suitable.’

‘I can’t take any credit for that,’ he said placidly. ‘Katherine more or less dropped into my lap—an answer to prayer, shall we say.’ He smiled at Katherine, who was vexed to feel her cheeks redden. ‘You’ve settled in? No snags?’

‘None, Dr Fitzroy.’ She heard her voice, very stiff and wooden and awkward-sounding, but for the life of her she couldn’t do anything about it.

Dodie gave a chuckle. ‘I should think not indeed! These are the two dearest, sweetest people I know.’ She kissed them both, smiled at Katherine quite brilliantly, and took the doctor’s arm. ‘We shall be late…’

His goodbyes were brief. Katherine, scooping her elderly companions on to each arm, heard Dodie’s high, penetrating voice quite clearly as they walked away.

‘She will do very well, Jason. Dreadfully dull, poor dear, but I dare say she’s very grateful—living in a pleasant house, good food and wages…’

The doctor’s reply, if he replied, was lost on the wind. Katherine subdued a violent wish to leave her two companions as from that moment and never see them or the doctor again. As for Dodie…words failed her. Common sense prevailed, of course; it was a good job and she did live pleasantly, and it was wonderful to have money to spend. She sighed soundlessly and turned her full attention to Mr Grainger, who was busy pulling the sermon to pieces. She would stay for ever, she mused, while she had the chance of seeing Dr Fitzroy. It was the height of stupidity to love someone who had no interest at all in you. Dodie had said that she was dull, she might as well be stupid, too!

CHAPTER THREE

OCTOBER had given way to November, and the late autumn sunshine had disappeared behind low banks of cloud, tearing around the sky, pushed to and fro by a ferocious wind. The Graingers didn’t venture out; Katherine unpicked knitting, played bezique with Mr Grainger, read the newspapers to him and romantic novels to Mrs Grainger and, in between whiles, gave a hand around the house. The cleaning ladies who came each day were excellent workers, but they did their work and nothing more; Katherine, perceiving how Mrs Dowling’s corns hurt, took to carrying the trays to and from the dining-room and, occasionally, when Mrs Dowling was in need of a rest, she dried the dishes and loaded and unloaded the dishwasher. Mrs Dowling always thanked her rather coldly for these small tasks, but her manner had softened considerably; the small, quiet girl was no threat to her authority, and she was proving a dab hand at keeping Mr and Mrs Grainger happy.

During the second week of Katherine’s stay she was invited to go down to the kitchen each morning before she dressed and share Mrs Dowling’s pot of tea, something she was happy to do, for it made a pleasant start to the day, sitting at the kitchen table, drinking Mrs Dowling’s strong tea and listening to that lady’s views on life in general and the household where she lived and worked in particular.

Within a very few days it was Katherine who carried the early morning tea trays up to Mr and Mrs Grainger. As she pointed out, she was going upstairs anyway, and it would save Mrs Dowling’s corns. But although her days were filled by small chores she had two hours off each afternoon, something she looked forward to; there was so much to do and see. The cathedral was a never-ending source of interest; she pored over the Magna Carta in its library, studied the ancient manuscripts there, and wandered to and fro, examining the tombstones. When she had had her fill, she explored the narrow streets around the close, admiring the houses and wishing that she could live in one of them. The Graingers’ house was delightful but, although she lived in it, she was aware that sooner or later they would die and she would be out of a job. She wondered who would have the house; probably Dodie, who certainly wouldn’t want to employ her in any capacity.

Katherine paused to admire a particularly fine Georgian house bordering on to the close. Dodie wouldn’t want her grandparents’ house; she would be married to Dr Fitzroy by then, and he must surely have a house of his own. She had seen him when he visited his patients, of course, but she knew no more about him than the first time they had met.

At the end of her second week she took herself off to Marks and Spencer again, and bought a dress: pale grey with a white collar and a neat belt—unexciting, but she would not get tired of it as quickly as a brighter colour. She bore it back and wore it that evening. Examining herself in the long glass in her bedroom she was pleased with her appearance, for it was a distinct improvement on anything else hanging in her wardrobe.

She went downstairs feeling pleased with herself, and when Mrs Grainger observed, ‘You look nice, Katherine,’ she beamed with pleasure. A pity that Dr Fitzroy couldn’t see her now…

The wish was father to the thought: she was setting Mrs Grainger’s knitting to rights when Mrs Dowling opened the door. ‘Dr Fitzroy,’ she announced as he came into the room.

He had brought a book which Mr Grainger had wished to read, and stayed only briefly, but he paused by the door to ask Katherine, ‘Everything is all right?’ and when she said ‘Yes,’ he gave her a vague, kindly look. ‘Splendid. You must be looking forward to buying yourself some pretty clothes. I’m sure if you ask her, Dodie will tell you where to go.’

Katherine’s calm face gave away nothing of her feelings about this unfortunate remark. Nothing, just nothing would make her buy anything at a shop recommended by Dodie, even if she could afford it, which she couldn’t. She said in a wooden voice, ‘How kind,’ and shot him a look of such rage that he blinked. There was more behind that composed face than he had thought, and he found himself interested to know what it was.

He said pleasantly, ‘If you should want to visit your brother, let me know. I could drive you out there.’

‘That’s very kind of you, but I hadn’t planned to—to go back for a little while.’ She could hardly tell him that her letters had gone unanswered and a visit from her would be unwelcome. Joyce had said that she didn’t care if she never saw her again… ‘I’m very happy here,’ she told him, and wished him a polite goodnight. Before she undressed that evening, she took a good look at her image in the pier-glass in her room. There was nothing wrong with her new dress; it was suitable, cheap and completely lacking in high fashion, but then, high fashion was something quite useless for someone like herself. It was a very nice dress, she told herself defiantly, and next week she would buy some shoes; high-heeled and elegant. By Christmas she would have an adequate wardrobe; by the time she had bought the basic items, she would be able to save her money and start to pick and choose.

She got into bed, planning what she would buy; clothes which would make Dr Fitzroy look at her twice. She was just dropping off on her hopeful thought when Mr Grainger rang. He couldn’t sleep, he complained, and would she get him a drink? Ovaltine or Bengers…

Another week went by, highlighted by the doctor’s visits, always brief, during which he took blood pressures, listened carefully to his patients’ mild complaints and went away again with barely a word to Katherine. There was a visit from Dodie too, as brief as the doctor’s had been. She arrived just as the old couple were preparing to take their afternoon nap, wrapped in a beautifully cut coat and wearing high patent-leather boots. She had been to the hairdressers, she explained and just had to pop in and see how her darlings were getting on, although she cut her grandfather short when he started to describe his bad chest, laughingly telling him to stop worrying.