Matilda's Wedding

But on the following Tuesday, her day free until evening surgery, she took the local bus to Taunton. She hadn’t told her mother or father that she was going until she’d taken them their early morning tea.

‘That’s right, my dear,’ said her father. ‘You go and have a pleasant day. Have you sufficient money?’

She kissed the top of his head. ‘Yes, thank you, Father.’

There was no chance to say more for her mother had sat bolt upright in bed. ‘You’re going to Taunton? Why didn’t you tell me? I could have gone with you; I need several things. How thoughtless of you, Matilda—and why do you want to go?’

‘To shop,’ said Matilda, ‘and I must go now or I’ll miss the bus. I’ll be back before tea.’

‘I should feel mean, but I don’t,’ said Matilda to herself, hurrying down to the bus stop outside Mrs Simpkins’. There were several people there already, and the doctor, standing at his dining-room window, watched her join the little group. He thought idly that if he had known she had wanted to go to Taunton he would have given her a lift for he would be at the hospital for most of the day. He turned away and went to eat his breakfast.

Matilda hadn’t much money but she knew what she wanted. The doctor only saw her during surgery hours, so it made sense to make herself as attractive as possible during that time. Well, not sense, actually, since he never looked at her, but even if she had no hope that he would like her that wasn’t going to stop her from doing something about her looks.

Silly, really, thought Matilda, making for the shops.

It would have to be Marks & Spencer; she hadn’t enough money for any of the smart boutiques. She would go there first, anyway…

Maybe the doctor would never look at her; she would still find solace in the wearing of the grey jersey dress she found almost at once. It was suitably short but not too much so and it had a white collar and pretty buttons, and since it was jersey it wouldn’t crease.

And there was some money left over—enough for a navy sweater to wear with her last year’s pleated skirt. She checked the money in her purse then, had a cup of coffee and a roll, and went in search of something tasty for supper, as well as the boiled sweets her father liked to suck while he worked and a tiny bottle of the perfume her mother liked.

By then it was time to get the bus back to Much Winterlow.

CHAPTER THREE

THE bus went from the castle buildings and Matilda had overlooked the fact that she had walked some distance from it. She hurried now; there was no other bus; it was a once-weekly event. Much Winterlow was far too isolated to merit more than that and how would she get back if she missed it? She broke into a run, much hampered by her parcels.

Dr Lovell, driving himself home after a day at Trinity Hospital, caught sight of her as he turned the car into East Street from North Street. She was dancing with impatience, waiting for the lights to allow her to cross over to the bus depot, now tantalisingly close. He turned the car into the bus park and stopped by the bus. He opened his door and got out as she came galloping along.