While Miss Ross got on with the actual teaching Olivia patrolled the pool, swimming slowly, making sure that the children were under her watchful eye, encouraging the faint-hearted to get their feet off the bottom of the pool and applauding those who were splashing their way from one side to the other. Once they were all out of the water she wrapped herself in a robe and went round checking that each child had showered, finding mislaid garments and then collecting up the sopping wet swimsuits. Only when they were all once more dressed and handed over to Miss Ross could she shower and dress herself, before hurrying back to the school to the recreation room where she was expected to dispense hot cocoa and biscuits. It should have been her half-day but the junior housemistress had gone to a wedding, which meant that Olivia would have the charge of fifteen little girls until they were in bed and hopefully asleep. On Sunday it was her turn to shepherd the whole school, under the guidance of Miss Cross and two of the senior teachers, to the village church.
Getting ready for bed that night she owned to being tired but not unhappy. The pleasure of sitting in one’s own small home, drinking a last cup of tea before getting into bed, was by no means overrated. Perhaps she was a born old maid? She dismissed the idea. ‘I shall be quite honest,’ she told herself, since there was no one else to tell, ‘I should like to marry and have a kind and loving husband and a handful of children. Never mind if there isn’t enough money, just enough to live on comfortably, and keep a dog or two, and cats of course, and perhaps a donkey…’
She put down her mug and took herself upstairs to bed.
There was the opportunity to think quietly the next morning; the Reverend Bates’ sermons were long and soothing, a fitting background for her thoughts, and since they were simple and blameless she didn’t suppose that God would mind. The end of term was approaching, she reflected, and she would go back to Granny’s flat for almost three weeks. During that time she would have to see what her mother thought of coming to live with her, always providing Miss Cross decided to keep her. The letters from her mother had been cheerful; Olivia thought that without her her mother and grandmother lived fairly amicably together. All the same, it would be nice if her mother was to pay a visit.
She glanced down the row of childish faces under the school straw hats. Perhaps she had found her niche in life. She sighed and a small hand crept into her lap and caught at her fingers, and she made haste to smile down at the upturned little face. It was Nel, a nice child whose Granny lived not too far away. She had confided in Olivia one day that her daddy had died and Mummy lived in Holland, but she was here at school because her Daddy had wanted her to be educated in England. ‘I’m half-Dutch,’ she had said proudly, and instantly Mr van der Eisler’s handsome features had swum before Olivia’s eyes. She had wiped him out at once and suggested a game of Ludo.
With the end of term so near now there was an air of bustle and excitement at the school. Regular lessons gave way to exams, an expedition to the Roman Baths in Bath, while Miss Prosser, who taught history and geography, recited their history, and finally the school play, with its attendant rush and scurry behind the curtains, and then the last morning, with all the little girls—dressed, cases packed, forgotten articles sought for and found—waiting anxiously to be collected.
The first parents arrived soon after breakfast and after them a steady stream of cars. Olivia, finding stray children, tying shoelaces and straightening hats, remembered that she was to drive Miss Cross into Bath that afternoon. When she got back she would be able to pack her own things and by then she would know if she was to return…
Half the children had gone when Nel, standing beside her, gave a squeal of delight. ‘There’s Mummy and Uncle Haso.’ She gave Olivia a poke to make sure that she was listening. ‘We’re going to Holland…’
‘How nice,’ said Olivia, and allowed her lovely mouth to drop open. Mr van der Eisler, accompanied by an elegantly dressed woman with fair hair cut in a boyish crop, was coming towards her.
Her surprise was so absolute that she could think of nothing to say, but Mr van der Eisler, whose surprise wasn’t surprise at all but actually looked genuine, nodded in a friendly way. ‘Olivia—who would have expected to see you here?’
He suffered a hug from Nel and turned to his companion. ‘Rita, this is a young lady who worked at Jerome’s. Nel’s mother, Olivia—Mrs Brennon.’
‘How nice,’ said Mrs Brennon, which could have meant anything. She didn’t shake hands but kissed her daughter and said, ‘Shall we go, Haso? Lady Brennon will be expecting us…’ She smiled briefly at Olivia. ‘Goodbye. I do hope that Nel has been good.’
She didn’t wait for an answer but took Nel’s hand and went to the car.
Mr van der Eisler paused just long enough to ask if she was happy.
‘Oh, very, thank you.’ Just in case he hadn’t been listening, she added, ‘I have never been so happy.’
His, ‘Splendid,’ was uttered in a detached manner, as was his goodbye.
CHAPTER THREE
‘WELL, what did you expect?’ Olivia asked her face in the looking-glass in her bedroom. ‘I dare say he had a job to remember you—she was very attractive, and he’s fond of Nel.’
She started to pack in a half-hearted way, filling in time until Miss Cross was ready to go into Bath.
In Bath she was told to park the car and return in two hours’ time, which meant that she had the leisure to look at the shops and have a cup of tea. On the way back to the school Miss Cross, who had hardly spoken, said, ‘Come to my study before supper this evening, Olivia. You will be returning home tomorrow?’
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