Never too Late

And by then, thought Prudence, I’ll have got myself a job. For a moment she felt a guilty pang, borne away on a tide of indignation when he said casually: ‘There’s a chance I’ll have to go to Portugal in a couple of months; some tycoon wants a villa designed in the Algarve and he wants someone over there for consultation. A bit of luck for me—the weather should be pretty good in November.’ He paused and glanced at her. ‘I don’t care for the idea of a winter wedding, do you, Prudence? And there’s no hurry. I’ll take a couple of weeks off in the spring…’

‘What for?’ asked Prudence in a very quiet voice.

‘It’ll be a convenient time for us to get married. I’ll be able to give you a definite date later on. Though of course, if anything turns up…’ He gave a self-satisfied smile. ‘I am rather in demand.’

Prudence’s eyes glittered greenly. ‘Your career means a lot to you, doesn’t it, Tony?’ she asked.

‘Well, of course it does—darling, you do say the stupidest things sometimes! Well, I must be off. You’re going to Nancy’s next Saturday? I leave on the Monday after that, I’ll give you a ring if I can’t find time to get to Highgate.’

Prudence drove herself up to London in the secondhand Mini Aunt Rachel had given her for her twenty-first birthday. It was a bit battered by now, but it went well enough, and she was a good driver. The flat in Highgate, the ground floor of an imposing Victorian mansion set in a roomy garden, had welcoming lights shining from its windows as she stopped the little car before its door. Nancy had said, ‘Come in good time for dinner,’ but Prudence had cut it rather fine, what with having to type her father’s sermon at the last minute, and round up the choirboys for an extra choir practice for Harvest Festival.

Nancy was at the door before she had time to ring the bell and dragged her inside. ‘Oh, isn’t this fun? You’re late—I was in a panic that you wouldn’t be coming. There’s masses of stuff in the kitchen to see to ready for tomorrow evening.’

She hurried Prudence inside and swept her into the sitting room where James was waiting, and for a time the kitchen was forgotten while they sat with their drinks, talking over the honeymoon and the marvels of Highgate and how marvellous it was to nip into Harvey Nichols or Harrods with absolutely no trouble at all. Prudence listened with pleasure to her sister’s chatter and presently followed her to the back of the flat, to the pretty room she was to sleep in. ‘And when you’ve dolled yourself up, we’ll have dinner and then decide about tomorrow’s food,’ declared Nancy happily. At the door she paused, looking at Prudence. ‘Darling, you really must get married soon—it’s such fun!’

To which Prudence, living up to her name for once, made no reply.

They all repaired to the kitchen after dinner. Mrs Turner, the daily housekeeper, had gone home leaving the way clear for them to prepare whatever was needed for the party, and since Nancy was rather a slapdash cook and James did nothing but eat samples of what was laid out on the table, it fell to Prudence’s lot to make pastry for the vol-au-vents, choux pastry for the little cream cakes Nancy had decided to offer her guests, and bake the sausage rolls. There was to be far more than these, of course. Nancy reeled off a list of the delicacies she had planned and then perched on the kitchen table watching Prudence.

‘You’re such a super cook,’ she said presently. ‘Tony doesn’t know how lucky he is.’

Prudence looked up from her mixing bowl. ‘I’m not going to marry Tony.’ She spoke defiantly.

The two of them stared at her. ‘Not marry…but why not?’

It was James who said slowly: ‘You’ve been engaged a very long time.’

Prudence nodded. ‘Yes, that’s partly it—I mean, we’ve had the chance to marry—oh, ever since we were engaged. It’s gone sour… Tony doesn’t really want me; he wants someone to bolster up his career.’

‘What will you do?’ She blessed James for being so matter-of-fact about it.

‘Get a job. I’ve been mugging up my shorthand and typing, they’re not very good, but I daresay I could manage some sort of office job. I don’t want to stay at home.’ She added impatiently: ‘I’m twenty-seven, you know.’

‘There’s no reason why you shouldn’t find something,’ observed James reasonably. ‘There are jobs going—receptionists and so on, where even if typing is needed, it’s not essential—shorthand is always useful, of course. If I hear of anything I’ll let you know.’

‘You’re an angel,’ declared Prudence. ‘I can quite see why Nancy married you.’ She beamed at him and went back to her cooking.

The party was for half past six so that those who had evening engagements could go on to them and those who hadn’t could stay as long as they liked. Prudence, hair and face carefully done, wearing a green dress that matched her eyes, went along to the sitting room in good time to help with the last-minute chores, and when the first of the guests arrived, melted into the background. It was, after all, Nancy’s party, and someone was needed to keep an eye on the food and trot to and fro to the kitchen to replenish plates.

It was on one of these trips, while she was piling another batch of vol-au-vents on to plates, that the kitchen door opened and Benedict van Vinke strolled in. His hullo was friendly and casual, and he ignored her surprise. ‘Thought I’d drop in for an hour,’ he observed mildly, ‘and see how James and Nancy are getting on! Nice party—did you make these things?’ He ate a couple of vol-au-vents and turned his attention to the tiny sausage rolls she had taken out of the oven.

‘Yes, I like cooking. What a lot of friends they’ve got.’ She took off her oven gloves and took a sausage roll and began to eat it.

‘Where’s Tony?’ he asked.

She said carefully: ‘I don’t know—somewhere in London, I suppose. He’s going to the States on Monday. He said he might find time to come over.’

He opened blue eyes wide. ‘Surely he allows himself a few hours off at weekends?’

‘He’s very busy—he’s a successful architect, you know.’

‘Yes, I did know—he told me.’ His voice was dry.

‘And what do you do?’ asked Prudence snappily, on edge for some reason she couldn’t understand.

‘I’m a GP.’ He took another sausage roll and picked up the dish. ‘I’ll carry these in for you.’

She led the way back to the sitting room with a distinct flounce, quite out of temper at his mild snub.

The last of the guests left about nine o’clock, but Benedict didn’t go with them; Nancy had invited him to stay for a cold supper later on, and Prudence guessed from his unsurprised acceptance that he was a frequent visitor. Indeed, he seemed to know his way about the place just as well as his host and hostess, laying the small round table in the dining room and going down to the cellar to bring up the wine while James carved a chicken.

They were half way through the meal when Nancy asked: ‘Did you really mean that, Prudence? I mean about not marrying Tony and getting a job?’

Prudence shot a look across the table to Benedict, whose calm face showed no interest whatever. ‘Yes, of course I did,’ and then she tried a red herring: ‘What a success your party was!’

‘Yes, wasn’t it? Does Tony know?’

‘No. I’ll—I’ll tell him when I see him…’ She was interrupted by the telephone, and when James came back from answering it, he said cheerfully:

‘Well, you’ll be able to do that almost at once—that was Tony saying he can spare us half an hour. He’s on his way.’

‘No,’ said Prudence instantly, ‘I can’t—how can I? I haven’t got a job—he’ll never believe me unless I can prove that I’ve found work—I mean, that’ll make him see that I mean it.’ She stared round at them all. ‘I expect I sound like a heartless fool, but I’m not—I’ve felt—I feel like some Victorian miss meekly waiting for the superior male to condescend to marry me.’ She added strongly: ‘And I won’t!’

‘No, of course not,’ said James soothingly. ‘No one will make you do something you don’t want to do—but it’s a good opportunity to tell him.’ He thought for a minute. ‘If he’s off to the States it’ll make the break much easier—telling people, you know’

Prudence tossed off her wine, choked, spluttered and said between whoops: ‘Could I tell a fib and say I’d found a job, do you think?’

For the first time Benedict spoke. ‘That would hardly become a parson’s daughter,’ he observed mildly, ‘and perhaps there’s no need. It just so happens that I’m badly in need of a general factotum—someone to type—you do type, I hope? My English letters, make sure that I keep appointments, do the flowers, keep an eye on the household and my small daughter. Not much of a job, I’m afraid, but a very necessary one.’

Prudence had her eyes on her face. She said slowly: ‘You’re married?’

He smiled a little. ‘A widower—Sibella is six years old. I live in an old-fashioned rambling house which I am told is sheer hell to cope with, in Appeldoorn.’

‘Holland?’ queried Prudence.

‘That’s right,’ he answered her seriously, although his eyes were dancing. ‘Although I spend a good deal of time over here. You could start at once or within a few days, just as you wish.’ And as the doorbell rang, ‘You’ll have to decide here and now; that sounds like Tony.’

Nancy had gone to open the door and Tony followed her into the room. His eyes swept the rather untidy table and came to rest on Prudence. ‘I see you’re enjoying yourself, Prudence,’ he remarked, and nodded to James and Benedict. ‘Lucky little girl, aren’t you, while I spend my days hard at work!’

She didn’t answer him, she looked across the table at Benedict. She said very clearly: ‘Yes.’ Being called a little girl had been the last straw; she stood five feet seven in her stockings and she was a big girl.

James broke the silence with some remark about Tony’s trip and they listened to his pompous reply before Nancy asked: ‘Will you have a drink, Tony? Or I’ll make some fresh coffee. James and Benedict were just going to wash up in the kitchen—I expect you two would like to be alone for a bit.’

Prudence cast her sister a telling glance, but before she could answer Tony said: ‘As to that, I don’t give much for these sentimental partings and I won’t stay for coffee—there’s a man I have to see before I leave…’

‘I’m not going to marry you,’ said Prudence suddenly, and the four of them looked at her, Nancy and James with sympathy Tony with outraged astonishment and Benedict van Vinke with faint amusement.

‘Don’t talk rubbish!’ said Tony sharply.

‘It’s not rubbish.’ Prudence took the ring off her finger and put it on the table. ‘We could have been married a dozen times in these last four years, Tony, and now it’s too late.’

‘You’ve decided to be a dutiful daughter and live at home?’ he asked with a faint sneer.

‘No, I’ve got a job.’

‘You’ve never done a day’s work in your life—what can you do?’

‘Prudence has agreed to join my household as a personal assistant to me and companion to my small daughter.’ Benedict’s voice was quiet, but there was a hint of steel in it which made Tony pause before he answered.

He said stiffly: ‘We don’t need anyone interfering in our affairs. I’ll talk to Prudence.’ He turned to her. ‘Come into another room and we’ll settle this once and for all.’

‘No need—it’s settled. I’m sorry, Tony, but I’m not the right wife for you—you must know that, because if I had been, you’d have married me years ago.’ She picked up the ring. ‘Here you are. I hope you have a successful trip.’

She went out of the room rather quickly and went into the kitchen and shut the door. Even though she knew she had done the right thing, it was a little frightening to find herself alone after almost four years, and now she had committed herself to a job she knew nothing about in a country she had never been to with a man she had met only for the second time that evening. She felt lightheaded with relief and regret for what might have been, and at the same time scared of the future.

CHAPTER TWO

PRUDENCE WAS vaguely aware of voices, the faint thump of the front door closing and a moment later the door behind her opening.

‘Tea?’ Benedict’s voice sounded matter-of-fact as he crossed to the sink, filled the kettle and set it to boil. He didn’t look at her as he went on: ‘Your habit of drinking tea at all times is one to which I strongly subscribe.’

‘You’re Dutch?’ Prudence hadn’t given it a thought until now. ‘Why is your English so good?’

‘Perhaps because I spend a good deal of time in England. I went to school here and then Cambridge, but I am still a Dutchman, through and through.’

‘I don’t know a thing about you.’ And then because she couldn’t help herself: ‘Has he gone?’

‘Yes.’ He gave her a lightning glance and poured water into a teapot. ‘There’s not much to tell—I’m a G.P. My home is in Appeldoorn, a rather pleasant town in the centre of Holland—I’ve already told you that, haven’t I?’ He found a mug and filled it to the brim. ‘Drink that—we won’t talk any more about it tonight, you’re not registering anyway. I’ll come round tomorrow morning and we’ll go for a walk and discuss your duties.’ And when she looked at him in a puzzled way: ‘You agreed to come and work for me.’

‘Yes—yes, and I meant it, that is if you think I could cope?’

‘Why shouldn’t you cope?’ he wanted to know coolly. ‘There’s almost no skill involved.’

Prudence frowned. ‘That sounds rude.’

‘It’s not meant to be—what I mean is that it’s a job that any sensible woman could do, and you seem sensible.’

‘Oh—do I? Well, I can type and do a shaky shorthand and I can cook and keep house and do simple accounts, and I’ve taught in Sunday School for ten years.’

‘Exactly the kind of person I’m looking for.’ He smiled at her and opened the kitchen door. ‘Let’s join the others.’

Nancy and James didn’t say anything; they were making rather a thing of clearing up, and it wasn’t until Benedict began a lighthearted conversation about the party that they joined in, looking relieved. Benedict went shortly after that with the casual remark that he would be along about ten o’clock the next morning; he wished Nancy and James goodbye, then stopped in front of Prudence. ‘We all get our bad moments,’ he told her kindly. ‘They don’t last, if that’s any consolation to you, though they’re the very devil while they’re there.’

He squeezed her shoulder with an enormous hand and she felt strangely comforted.

She hadn’t expected to sleep, but she did, and woke feeling such relief that everything was all over and done with that it quite washed out any other feeling. Nancy and James, prepared to treat her with cautious sympathy, were surprised to see her eat a good breakfast and listen to her cheerful comments about the party. ‘And you don’t have to worry about me,’ she assured them. ‘I ought to have done it ages ago—I’m sure that Tony’s as relieved as I am—he’ll find himself an American heiress, I’ve no doubt.’ She looked at her sister. ‘Was he very upset when he went?’ Her voice faltered a little. ‘I should have stayed, but I just couldn’t.’

‘Of course you couldn’t,’ said Nancy warmly. ‘If you mean was he unhappy about it—no, I don’t think he was; his pride had had a nasty jolt and he was worried about people talking. Are you really going to work for Benedict?’

‘Oh, yes, it sounds the kind of job I can manage without falling flat on my face, he said he’d tell me about it when he comes this morning.’

‘He’d better stay to lunch,’ said Nancy.

Benedict arrived at ten o’clock, declined coffee, enquired if Prudence was ready and when she had got a jacket to cover her jersey dress, walked her briskly to Highgate Ponds, across Parliament Hill and so on to Hampstead Heath. He didn’t talk about anything much until they were turning back in the direction of Highgate Ponds once more, and as for Prudence, she was happy to walk and enjoy her surroundings and not think too much.

They had been silent in a comfortable companionship way for a minute or two when he asked to surprise her: ‘Do you have any money of your own?’

She stared at him in surprise. ‘Me? Yes, a small income from some money my godmother left me. Why?’

‘It makes it so much easier,’ he explained. ‘If you don’t like the job you won’t feel that you must stay because you need the money.’

‘I hadn’t thought of that. But I’m sure I’ll like it; I do want to do something, not just stay at home. Mother and Father don’t actually need me there, in fact Mother has been hinting for months that it would be nice when Tony and I got married.’

He made no comment, but asked: ‘You’re sure it is what you want? It’s not in the least exciting and there will be no regular hours—though I’ll see that you get a day to yourself each week. Bring your car over if you like so that you can get around.’

‘Thank you. I can’t speak a word of Dutch.’

‘You’ll soon pick it up,’ he dismissed that airily, ‘and you’ll be dealing with my English correspondence.’

‘Yes, but does your little girl speak English?’

‘After a fashion. I’d be glad if you’d speak nothing but your own language with her.’

‘And what else would you want me to do?’

‘Be a Girl Friday, or if that’s too frivolous for you, a Universal Aunt.’

Prudence frowned; she might be removed from her first youth, but she felt that she was hardly eligible to be something as staid as a Universal Aunt. ‘I think a household assistant sounds better,’ she observed coldly.

‘Whatever you like,’ agreed Benedict suavely, ‘but I shall continue to call you Prudence.’

‘Shall I have to call you Dr van Vinke?’

‘I think it might be a good idea if you’re taking letters or if there are patients present, don’t you?’

They were almost back at the flat and he slowed his steps. ‘Would you like me to come down and see your parents? They don’t know me, only as James’ friend…’

‘That would be kind if you can spare the time.’

‘I’ll give you a ring. Now as to salary—how about seventy pounds a week—or the equivalent in gulden?’

‘That’s far too much!’ Prudence was quite shocked.

‘Wait until you’ve worked for a couple of weeks before you say that,’ he counselled. ‘I shall expect value for my money.’

She wasn’t sure if she liked that. She said stiffly: ‘I shall do my best.’

And that seemed to be the end of it, for the time being at least. Over lunch he and James argued good-naturedly as to the best route for her to take and before he went he remarked casually that he would let her know more when he next saw her at Little Amwell. His goodbye was casual in the extreme.

He arrived at Little Amwell four days later, which gave Prudence time to tell her parents what she intended doing and allowed them to recover from the shock, although she rather suspected that they weren’t unduly upset about her broken engagement. It was, of course, a little awkward having to tell people, but luckily in a village the size of Little Amwell news travelled fast if not always with accuracy. Mabel was told as befitted an old friend, but it wasn’t until Mrs Pett, who ran the general stores and Post Office, made a coy reference to Tony’s absence that Prudence observed flatly that she was no longer engaged and was on the point of taking a job. Mrs Pett’s rather bulbous eyes almost popped from her head. ‘My dear soul—and after all this long time, too!’

‘Almost four years,’ Prudence reminded her, and looked pointedly at the list of groceries she had to buy. ‘I’d better have tasty cheese, Mrs Pett,’—she only sold two kinds, tasty and mild, ‘I should think half a pound would do.’

Mrs Pett dealt with the cheese. ‘So you’re going away, Miss Prudence—you’ll be missed.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Pett.’ Prudence wasn’t going to be drawn into details; no doubt Mrs Pett would invent those when she passed on the news. She finished her shopping and went back home and spent the rest of the morning going through her wardrobe, deciding what she should take with her. She must remember to ask Benedict what the weather was like in Holland and should she take winter clothes as well or would she be able to come home and collect them later, if she stayed. She might not be suitable—his small daughter might not like her, her shorthand might not stand up to dictation. She had the sneaking feeling that Benedict, placid and friendly as he was, might present quite a different aspect once he got back to his own home and took up a busy routine again. It was a sobering thought, and she spent most of the next day taking down imaginary letters and typing them back not always as successfully as she could wish. Still, she told herself, if she was to look after the little girl and help around the house, there wouldn’t be all that time to do his correspondence, and anyway, he couldn’t have all that much in English. The thought cheered her so that she flung her notebook down and took Podge the elderly spaniel for an extra long walk.

When she got home there was an Aston Martin Volante outside the front door, dark blue, elegant and powerful. She and Podge circled it slowly before she went indoors, admiring it. ‘Very expensive,’ said Prudence to the dog, ‘and fast—it must drink petrol like I drink tea!’

In the sitting room her mother and father were entertaining Benedict, but they stopped talking as she went in. She greeted him unselfconsciously, adding: ‘What a nice car you’ve got—I didn’t know that you had one over here.’

‘James drove me down for the wedding and I don’t always use it in London. It gets me around, though.’

‘So I should imagine.’ Prudence looked at her mother. ‘I’ll help Mabel with tea, shall I?’ She turned to Benedict. ‘Are you staying the night?’

‘Your mother kindly suggested it, but I can’t—I’m on my way to Bristol. But tea would be delightful.’ He smiled as he spoke and she remembered the last time they had had tea together and went a little pink.

‘I’ll get it,’ she said to no one in particular.

Over tea Benedict enlarged upon her duties, more for the benefit of her parents than herself, she suspected; he also detailed her journey. ‘I’m going home in a couple of days’ time, perhaps you could follow—let’s see—would Friday suit you? That gets you to Appeldoorn on Saturday, which will give you the weekend in which to find your way around and get to know Sitske, my housekeeper—her husband’s the gardener and odd job man. I believe they’re known as married couples over here—and of course Sibella, she knows you’re coming to live with us, but I warn you she’s quite a handful. I spend as much time with her as I can, but not as much as I should like. I’m sure you’ll fill a much-needed gap for her.’

‘Prudence has a way with children,’ declared Mrs Trent comfortably. ‘If she can keep the Sunday School class in order she can certainly cope with one little girl. I think—we both think—that it will be very nice for Prudence to go away for a while and earn her living—it’s quiet here; that didn’t matter when she expected to marry, but now it’s a chance for her to be independent. How providential that you happened to need someone, Benedict.’

He agreed gravely. ‘And how fortunate that I have found Prudence.’

He got up to go presently, bidding them quiet goodbyes, adding that he would see Prudence on the following Saturday.

She went with him to the door, where he paused for a moment. ‘I’ll see you get your tickets in good time,’ he promised, and before she could say anything, had got into the Aston Martin and zoomed away.

Prudence watched the car turn out of the short drive and go down the village street. She was a good driver herself; she thoroughly approved of the lack of fuss with which he had handled the big car. Tony, she remembered, could never just get in and drive off; things had to be adjusted, knobs turned, lights tested, windows wound up or down, she hadn’t realised until now how that had irritated her. She thought that on the whole she was going to like working for Benedict. Of course, she didn’t know him; he might be a tyrant in his own home, although she didn’t think so.

She wandered back to the sitting room, wishing vaguely that he had told her more about himself, for in fact he had told her very little. He was a widower, she knew that, and she wondered how long he had been without a wife. Perhaps he had told her father. She found the chance to ask him during the evening, and for some reason felt relief when she heard that his wife had died soon after his daughter was born. ‘Very sad,’ observed her father, and she agreed sincerely; it was very sad.