Rags To Riches: Her Duty To Please: Nanny by Chance / The Nanny Who Saved Christmas / Behind the Castello Doors

‘Miss Pomfrey,’ he announced, and gave her a friendly shove before shutting the door on her.

It was a fair-sized room, lined with bookshelves, one corner of it taken up by a large desk. The man sitting at it got to his feet as Araminta hesitated, staring at him. This surely couldn’t be uncle. He was a giant of a man with fair hair touched with silver, a handsome man with a high-bridged nose, a thin, firm mouth and a determined chin. He took off the glasses he was wearing and smiled as he came to her and shook hands.

‘Miss Pomfrey? Dr Jenkell told me that you might come and see me. No doubt you would like some details—’

‘Look,’ said Araminta urgently, ‘before you say any more, I’ve come to tell you that I can’t look after your nephews. I’m starting as a student nurse in two weeks’ time. I didn’t know about this job until Dr Jenkell told me. I’m sure he meant it kindly, and my parents thought it was a splendid idea, but they arranged it all while I wasn’t there.’

The doctor pulled up a chair. ‘Do sit down and tell me about it,’ he invited. He had a quiet, rather slow way of speaking, and she felt soothed by it, as was intended.

‘Briskett is bringing us coffee…’

Araminta forgot for the moment why she was there. She felt surprisingly comfortable with the doctor, as though she had known him for years. She said now, ‘Briskett? The little man who answered the door? Is he your butler? He called you “the boss”—I mean, he doesn’t talk like a butler…’

‘He runs the house for me, most efficiently. His rather unusual way of talking is, I fancy, due to his addiction to American films; they represent democracy to him. Every man is an equal. Nevertheless, he is a most trustworthy and hard-working man; I’ve had him for years. He didn’t upset you?’

‘Heavens, no. I liked him. He looks like a friendly rat,’ she explained. ‘Beady eyes, you know, and a sharp nose. He has a lovely smile.’

Briskett came in then, with the coffee tray, which he set down on a small table near Araminta’s chair. ‘You be mother,’ he said, and added, ‘Don’t you forget you’ve to be at the hospital, sir.’

‘Thank you, Briskett, I’ll be leaving very shortly.’

Asked to do so, Araminta poured their coffee. ‘I’m sorry if I’m being inconvenient,’ she said. ‘You see, I thought if you didn’t expect me it would be easier for me to explain and you wouldn’t have time to argue.’

The doctor managed not to smile. He agreed gravely. ‘I quite see that the whole thing is a misunderstanding and I’m sorry you have been vexed.’ He added smoothly, with just a touch of regret allowed to show, ‘You would have done splendidly, I feel sure. They are six years old, the boys, twins and a handful. I must find someone young and patient to cope with them. Their parents—their mother is my sister—are archaeologists and are going to the Middle East for a month or so. It seemed a good idea if the children were to make their home with me while they are away. I leave for Holland in a week’s time, and if I can’t find someone suitable, I’m afraid their mother will have to stay here in England. A pity, but it can’t be helped.’

‘If they went to Holland with you, would they live with you? I mean, don’t you have a wife?’

‘My dear Miss Pomfrey, I am a very busy man. I’ve no time to look for a wife and certainly no time to marry. I have a housekeeper and her husband, both too elderly to cope with small boys. I intend sending them to morning school and shall spend as much time with them as I can, but they will need someone to look after them.’

He put down his coffee cup. ‘I’m sorry you had to come and see me, but I quite understand that you are committed. Though I feel that we should all have got on splendidly together.’

She was being dismissed very nicely. She got up. ‘Yes, I think we would too. I’m sorry. I’ll go—or you’ll be late at the hospital.’

She held out a hand and had it taken in his large, firm clasp. To her utter surprise she heard herself say, ‘If I cancelled my place at the hospital, do you suppose they’d let me apply again? It’s St Jules’…’

‘I have a clinic there. I have no doubt that they would allow that. There is always a shortage of student nurses.’

‘And how long would I be in Holland?’

‘Oh, a month, six weeks—perhaps a little longer. But you mustn’t think of altering your plans just to oblige me, Miss Pomfrey.’

‘I’m not obliging you,’ said Araminta, not beating about the bush. ‘I would like to look after the boys, if you think I’d do.’ She studied his face; he looked grave but friendly. ‘I’ve no idea why I’ve changed my mind,’ she told him, ‘but I’ve waited so long to start my training as a nurse, another month or two really won’t matter.’ She added anxiously, ‘I won’t be too old, will I? To start training…?’

‘I should imagine not. How old are you?’

‘Twenty-three.’

‘You aren’t too old,’ he assured her in a kind voice, ‘and if it will help you at all, I’ll see if I can get you on to the next take-in once you are back in England.’

‘Now that would be kind of you. Will you let me know when you want me and how I’m to get to Holland? I’m going now; you’ll be late and Briskett will hate me.’

He laughed then. ‘Somehow I think not. I’ll be in touch.’

He went into the hall with her and Briskett was there, too.

‘Cutting it fine,’ he observed severely. He opened the door for Araminta. ‘Go carefully,’ he begged her.

Araminta got on a bus for Oxford Street, found a café and over a cup of coffee sorted out her thoughts. That she was doing something exactly opposite to her intentions was a fact which she bypassed for the moment. She had, with a few impulsive words, rearranged her future. A future about which she knew almost nothing, too.

Where exactly was she to go? How much would she be paid? What about free time? The language question? The doctor had mentioned none of these. Moreover, he had accepted her decision without surprise and in a casual manner which, when she thought about it, annoyed her. He should be suitably grateful that she had delayed her plans to accommodate his. She had another cup of coffee and a bun and thought about clothes.

She had a little money of her own. In theory she kept the small salary she had been getting at the convalescent home to spend as she wished, but in practice she used it to bolster up the housekeeping money her father gave her each month.

Neither he nor her mother were interested in how it was spent. The mundane things of life—gas bills, the plumber, the most economical cuts of meat—meant nothing to them; they lived in their own world of the Celts, who, to them at least, were far more important and interesting.

Now she must spend some of her savings on clothes. She wouldn’t need much: a jacket, which would stand up to rain, a skirt and one or two woollies, and shoes—the sensible pair she wore to the convalescent home were shabby. No need for a new dress; she wasn’t likely to go anywhere.

And her parents; someone would have to keep an eye on them if she were to go to Holland in a week’s time and if Aunt Millicent, the elderly cousin, was unable to come earlier than they had arranged. Mrs Snow in the village might oblige for a few days, with basic cooking and cleaning. Really, she thought vexedly, she could make no plans until she heard from Dr van der Breugh.

Her parents received her news with mild interest. Her mother nodded her head in a knowledgeable way and observed that both she and Araminta’s father knew what was best for her and she was bound to enjoy herself, as well as learn something of a foreign land, even if it was only a very small one like Holland. She added that she was sure that Araminta would arrange everything satisfactorily before she went. ‘You’ll like looking after the dear little boys.’

Araminta said that, yes, she expected she would. Probably they were as tiresome and grubby as all small boys, but she was fond of children and had no qualms about the job. She would have even less when she knew more about it.

A state of affairs which was put right the next morning, when she received a letter from Dr van der Breugh. It was a long letter, typed, and couched in businesslike language. She would be called for at her home on the following Sunday at eleven o’clock and would spend a few hours with her charges before travelling to Holland on the night ferry from Harwich. She would be good enough to carry a valid passport and anything she might require overnight. It was hoped that her luggage might be confined to no more than two suitcases.

She would have a day off each week, and every evening after eight o’clock, and such free time during the day as could be arranged. Her salary would be paid to her weekly in Dutch guldens… She paused here to do some arithmetic—she considered it a princely sum, which certainly sweetened the somewhat arbitrary tone of the letter. Although there was no reason why it should have been couched in friendlier terms; she scarcely knew the doctor and didn’t expect to see much of him while she was in Holland.

She told her mother that the arrangements for her new job seemed quite satisfactory, persuaded Mrs Snow to undertake the housekeeping until Aunt Millicent could come, and then sifted through her wardrobe. The jersey two-piece and the corn silk blouse, an equally sober skirt and an assortment of tops and a warmer woolly or two, a short wool jacket to go over everything and a perfectly plain dress in a soft blue crêpe; an adequate choice of clothes, she considered, adding a raincoat, plain slippers and undies.

She had good shoes and a leather handbag; gloves and stockings and a headscarf or two would fill the odd corners in the one case she intended taking. Her overnight bag would take the rest. She liked clothes, but working in the children’s convalescent home had called for sensible skirts and tops in sensible colours, and she had seldom had much of a social life. She was uneasily aware that her clothes were dull, but there was no time to change that, and anyway, she hadn’t much money. Perhaps she would get a new outfit in Holland…

The week went quickly. She cleaned and polished, washed and ironed, laid in a stock of food and got a room ready for Aunt Millicent. And she went into Henley and bought new shoes, low-heeled brown leather and expensive, and when she saw a pink angora sweater in a shop window she bought that too. She was in two minds about buying a new jacket, but caution took over then. She had already spent more money than she’d intended. Though caution wasn’t quite strong enough to prevent her buying a pretty silk blouse which would render the sober skirt less sober.

On Sunday morning she was ready and waiting by eleven o’clock—waiting with her parents who, despite their wish to get back to researching the Ancient Celts, had come into the hall to see her off. Cherub was there too, looking morose, and she stooped to give him a final hug; they would miss each other.

Exactly on the hour a car drew up outside and Briskett got out, wished them all good morning, stowed her case in the boot and held the rear car door open for her.

‘Oh, I’d rather sit in front with you,’ said Araminta, and she gave her parents a final kiss before getting into the car, waved them a cheerful goodbye and sat back beside Briskett. It was a comfortable car, a Jaguar, and she could see from the moment Briskett took the wheel that despite his unlikely looks they hid the soul of a born driver.

There wasn’t much traffic until they reached Henley and here Briskett took the road to Oxford.

‘Aren’t I to go to the London address?’ asked Araminta.

‘No, miss. The doctor thought it wise if you were to make the acquaintance of the boys at their home. They live with their parents at Oxford. The doctor will come for you and them later today and drive to Harwich for the night ferry.’

‘Oh, well, I expect that’s a good idea. Are you coming to Holland too?’

‘No, miss. I’ll stay to keep an eye on things here; the boss has adequate help in Holland. He’s for ever to-ing and fro-ing—having two homes, as it were.’