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The Convenient Wife
The Convenient Wife
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The Convenient Wife

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‘Yes, Arthur’s got the three days off. We’ll go to his parents’ on Christmas Eve, and mine on Boxing Day, but we’ll have Christmas Day here together.’

‘That’s nice. That shop in the village has got some lovely tree decorations in. Do you want to buy some tomorrow?’

Christmas as a topic of conversation kept them busy until bedtime.

It was still cold the next morning, and the grey sky held a yellowish tinge. ‘It’s going to snow,’ said Venetia as they walked briskly into the village and returned presently with a basket full of tinsel, baubles and the ingredients for a beef casserole.

‘You ought to sort out the decorations,’ suggested Venetia, ‘while I get this casserole into a pot. I’ll just nip into the garden and pull a couple of leeks.’

Easier said than done—there had been a hard frost for several nights and she had to prise them out with a gardening fork. The first few flakes of snow were falling as she went back indoors. A lovely wave of warm air met her as she opened the kitchen door, to stop short on the threshold and gape at the professor, who was leaning against the kitchen table, eating the carrots she had laid out neatly for the casserole.

‘Come in and shut the door, Venetia. You’re letting all the cold air in.’

She pushed the door shut with one foot and put the leeks beside the carrots. ‘You’re in Holland,’ she said.

‘An unnecessary remark, and untrue,’ he pointed out. ‘Arthur and I arrived here not ten minutes ago.’

‘Oh, well, I’ll go and—’

‘No, you won’t. They haven’t seen each other for a week. Why do you think I am mewed up here with nothing but carrots to eat?’

She took off her coat and kicked off her boots. She looked small without them. She said tartly, ‘You could get into that car of yours and drive home, and Mrs Todd would give you a super meal.’

‘What an unkind girl you are, and what a way to talk to someone of my age! Besides, I’ve been invited to stay for lunch and tea. Will there be muffins?’


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