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Not Mrs Burns’ husband; she had seen a wedding photo, he was dark and not much above middle-height and had a moustache, the man on the doorstep was twice as tall and wide. Well, even allowing for exaggeration he was a very large man and solid with it. Besides, he had iron grey hair, bright blue eyes and no moustache. She said enquiringly, ‘Yes,’ in a severe voice, while a host of unpleasant ideas about thieves and robbers and kidnappers seeped into her head.
‘My God,’ observed the man softly, ‘I thought the species was extinct.’ And when she looked nonplussed, ‘Nannies,’ he explained kindly, ‘that’s what you are, isn’t it? I thought you worthy aproned ladies had been swallowed whole by the au pair girls.’
Not only probably a thief thought Deborah, a trifle wildly, but also mentally unstable. ‘Be good enough to go away,’ she said in the firm no-nonsense voice she had been taught to use at the training college.
He leaned his elegantly clad person against the door frame and said equably: ‘I haven’t had a nanny for a long time; I never obeyed her anyway. I’m coming in.’
‘You are not!’ The two little terrors and baby Deirdre suddenly became very precious; he didn’t know they were in the house, of course, but once inside he might go anywhere.
He changed his tactics. ‘This is Peggy Burns’ house?’
She nodded.
‘Good, so I’ll come in…’
‘I don’t know who you are,’ she protested.
‘I don’t happen to have my birth certificate with me, would a passport do?’ He was amused still but impatient now. ‘You’re alone in the house?’
She didn’t answer and he tried again. ‘Is Mrs Burns at home?’
‘No.’
‘Chatty little thing, aren’t you? Where is she?’
Deborah was standing squarely in the doorway her small, rather plump person by no means filling it. ‘At her mother’s house.’
She watched his face change to become serious. ‘Is she ill?’
‘Her mother? Yes. Mrs Burns went yesterday—no the day before that. Now will you please go away?’
For answer she felt two large hands clasp her waist and she was lifted gently aside as he went past her and into the sitting room, where he picked up the phone. She closed the door and went after him, watching while he dialled a number, staring at the wall in front of him. He was a good looking man, in his mid-thirties perhaps. She wondered who he was; if he was an intruder she couldn’t do much about it now, but he looked different suddenly, serious and worried, his voice was different too, no longer casual and so amused. He got the number and asked for Mrs Burns and then said: ‘Peggy? what’s wrong? I got back a couple of days early and came to see you. There’s a small gorgon here, defending your children with her life’s blood…’
He stood listening while Peggy talked. ‘I’m coming over right away. No I didn’t get your cable—I’d already left. I’ll be with you in a couple of hours, maybe a good deal less.’
He listened again and turned to look at Deborah. ‘Coping very well, I should have said; starched backbone and a mouth like a rat trap. I’d hate to be in her bad books.’ And then ‘Hang on love, I’ll be with you in no time at all.’
He put the phone down. ‘Any chance of a cup of coffee and a sandwich?’ He smiled suddenly and she almost forgave him for calling her a gorgon, then she remembered the rat trap. ‘Certainly Mr…’ She gave him a steely look and he smiled again. ‘Peggy’s brother, Gideon Beaufort. And you?’
‘Nanny,’ said Deborah coldly and went away to the kitchen, where she made a pot of coffee and cut sandwiches, by now in a very nasty temper, not improved by his appearance through the door and the manner in which he wolfed the sandwiches as fast as she could cut them. She banged a mug and the coffee pot down in front of him, put milk and sugar within reach and said frostily: ‘Excuse me, I’m going upstairs to the children.’
She crept into the night nursery and found them asleep, their small flushed faces looking angelic. She tucked in blankets, went to close one of the windows a little and let out a soundless squeak as a large hand came down on her shoulder. ‘Nice, aren’t they?’ whispered their uncle. ‘Little pests when they are awake of course.’
Deborah had got her breath back. ‘I might have screamed,’ she hissed almost soundlessly, ‘frightening me like that, you should know better…’ She glared up at him. ‘I thought you were in a hurry to see your mother?’
He was serious again. ‘I am, but I missed lunch and tea and jet lag was catching up on me. I’m going now. You’re all right on your own?’
‘Mary will be back later, thank you. Besides I have a definitely starched backbone and a mouth like a rat trap, haven’t I? That should put the most hardened criminal off.’
‘Did I say that? Next time we meet I’ll apologise handsomely.’
They were in the hall, he gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder and opened the door. He went without another word, not even goodbye. She heard a car start up outside but she didn’t go to a window to see it. She never wanted to see the wretch again. Rude, arrogant, bent on scaring the hair off her head. She went to the dining room and gave herself a glass of sherry and then went round the house, locking the doors and shutting the windows. If anyone else rang the bell she had no intention of answering it. She got her supper, sitting over it reading a novel from the well-stocked bookshelves, and then fed Deirdre and settled her for the night. The twins were out cold, humped untidily in their beds. She tucked them in and dropped a kiss on their rosy cheeks and then went downstairs again to wait for Mary; somehow she didn’t fancy going to bed until that lady was back.
Mary came home just after eleven o’clock. It had been a marvellous wedding, she told Deborah, the bride had looked beautiful and so had the bridesmaids; she didn’t mention the bridegroom—a necessary but unnoticed cog in the matrimonial wheel. And lovely food she continued, accepting the coffee which Deborah thoughtfully put before her. The drink must have been lovely too; Mary was going to have a nasty head in the morning. It hardly seemed the time to tell her about Mr Beaufort, but Mary, revived by the hot drink, wanted to know what sort of a day she had had, and Deborah, skimming lightly over the gorgon and rat trap bits, told her.
‘Such a nice gentleman,’ observed Mary, still a bit muzzy, ‘I’ve known him for a long time now, always so polite and so good with the children.’
She looked at Deborah and smiled and Deborah smiled back; she would hardly have described Mr Beaufort’s manners as polite although she was fair enough to hold back her judgment on his avuncular affability. She gave Mary another cup of coffee and then urged her to her bed. However much they might want to sleep late in the morning, there would be no chance; the twins would see to that, and Deirdre, although a placid baby, was unlikely to forego her morning feed.
The twins, bursting with energy, made sure that Deborah was up early. There was no sign of Mary as Deborah made herself a cup of tea and debated whether to take one to the housekeeper, but decided to wait for another hour and feed Deirdre while the twins got themselves dressed. She thanked heaven for Deirdre’s placid disposition as she washed unwilling faces and squeezed toothpaste out on to brushes; the baby was already asleep again which would give her time to give the twins their breakfast, and with any luck, allow her to bolt a slice of toast herself. By some miracle they were ready when Aunty Doris arrived; Deborah handed them over clean, well fed and with shining faces and nipped indoors again to take a cup of tea to Mary.
‘I have a headache,’ said Mary predictably.
‘I brought you a couple of aspirin, if you take them now and lie still for ten minutes or so, it’ll go. Do you fancy breakfast? I’m going to make some toast presently, after I’ve bathed Dee and put her into the pram. I’ll make you a slice.’
They sat down together presently in the kitchen with Dee in her pram, banging a saucepan lid with a spoon. Rather hard on Mary.
Mrs Burns rang during the morning. Her mother was better, she told Deborah, and it had been wonderful to see her brother, ‘So unexpected—I mean I’d sent him a cable—I couldn’t phone because I wasn’t quite sure where he was, but I didn’t think he’d get here for a few days. He’s been marvellous; seen the doctors and found another nurse so that I don’t have to stay up at night and he’s going to stay until Mother’s well enough to go to a Nursing Home, and by then Bill should be home, so I don’t have to worry. You’re all right, Nanny, no problems?’
I have problems, thought Deborah, one of them is having a rat trap for a mouth, but out loud she said, with her usual calm, ‘No, none, Mrs Burns. The children are splendid and Dee is such an easy baby.’ Then added for good measure, ‘And Mary is super.’
‘Oh, good. Gideon seemed to think that you were managing very well. I think I’ll be here for at least a week, perhaps a little longer than that. Will you manage until then? Get anything you need at the village stores, I’ve an account there. Oh, and will you ask Mary to send on some undies and another dress? The grey cotton jersey will do—I’ve almost nothing with me.’
Deborah hung up and handed the message on, reflecting that it must be nice to have people to do things for you; she suspected that Mrs Burns had always had that from the moment she was born and kindly fate had handed her a doting husband who carried on the good work. Probably the horrible brother was her slave too, although, upon reflection, she couldn’t imagine him being anyone’s slave.
She had no time to reflect for long, however, Mary’s headache had gone but she was still lethargic so that Deborah found it prudent to do as much around the house as she could. At least dinner was almost ready by the time the twins were brought back, both in furious tears and looking as though their clothes hadn’t been changed for a couple of weeks. ‘They had a little upset,’ explained Aunty Doris with false sweetness, ‘they’re such lively little people.’
There was nothing for it but to be patient and put them into the bath, wheedle them into clean clothes and lastly load the washing machine once more, before sitting them down to a delayed dinner which they stubbornly refused to eat.
But after a long walk in the afternoon they cheered up, ate a splendid tea and went to their beds, looking too good to be true.
By the end of the next two days they had accepted Deborah as a great friend, a firm friend who didn’t allow them to have their own way, but who nevertheless was good fun. The days had settled into a routine, a rather dull one for Deborah but busy with washing and ironing and feeding and keeping the twins happy and amused. It was at the end of the first week when the twins, bored with being indoors all the morning because of the rain, started playing up. Providentially, the rain stopped after their dinner and, although it was still damp underfoot, Deborah stuffed small feet into wellies, tucked Dee snugly into her pram and went into the garden. There was a good sized lawn behind the house. She put the pram in a patch of watery sunshine, made sure that the baby was asleep and fetched a ball. But half an hour of kicking that around wasn’t enough for the twins, they demanded something else for a change. Deborah caught them in either hand and began to prance up and down the grass singing ‘Here we come gathering nuts in May’ and had them singing too, dancing to and fro with her.
Deborah didn’t know what made her turn her head. Gideon Beaufort was leaning on the patio rail, watching them, and even at that distance she took instant exception to the smile on his face.
CHAPTER TWO
DEBORAH STOPPED her singing and prancing so abruptly that the twins almost fell over. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Beaufort,’ she said in a cold way which was almost wholly swamped by the twins’ ecstatic shrieks, although half-way across the grass Simon turned to shout: ‘He’s not a mister, he’s a professor,’ before flinging himself at his uncle.
‘Very clearly put,’ observed the professor, disentangling himself slowly. ‘Now you can do the same for me and introduce Nanny.’
His nephew eyed him with impatience. ‘Well, she’s just Nanny…’
‘No name?’
He looked at Deborah and she said unwillingly: ‘Farley—Deborah Farley.’
‘Charming—a popular name with the Puritans, I believe.’ His voice was so bland that she decided to let that pass.
‘What’s a puritan?’ asked Suzy.
‘A sober person who thought it wrong to sing and dance and be happy.’
‘Nanny’s not one,’ declared his niece. ‘We’ve been singing and dancing,’ she explained earnestly.
The professor nodded. ‘Yes, and very nicely too.’ He smiled at Deborah who gave him a cool look; the gorgon’s rat trap still rankled.
‘Is Mummy coming?’ demanded Simon.
‘Not today old fellow—Granny’s better but not quite well yet. I thought I’d drop in and see how things are.’ He strolled over to the pram and peered inside. ‘Dee’s asleep— I’ve never seen such a child for dozing off.’ He glanced, at Deborah. ‘She must be very easy to look after.’
‘No trouble at all,’ agreed Deborah airily.
‘In that case perhaps I might stay for tea without straining your work load too much?’ He smiled again with such charm that she only just stopped in time from smiling back in return.
‘Certainly, Professor, the children will be delighted, won’t you, my dears? Mary did some baking this morning, so there’ll be a cake.’
Mary’s welcome was warm and seemed even warmer by reason of Deborah’s brisk efficiency. She wheeled the pram under the nursery window so that she might hear if Dee wakened; removed the twins to be tidied and washed for tea, sat them down at the table, one on each side of their uncle, and went to help carry in the tea tray, the plate of bread and butter and the cake Mary had so providentially baked.
The tea tray was taken from her as she entered the nursery by a disarmingly polite professor. What was more he remained so throughout the meal, talking nothings to her when not engaged in answering the twins’ ceaseless questions. Deborah felt a certain reluctance when it was time to feed Deirdre, but she got up from the table, excused herself politely, cautioned the twins to behave and made to leave the room. At the door she hesitated: ‘I get Dee ready for bed once she’s been fed,’ she explained, ‘so I’ll wish you goodbye, Professor, please tell Mrs Burns that everything is just as it should be.’
‘Oh, I’m staying the night. Did I not tell you? I’m so sorry.’ He sounded all concern, but all the same she knew that he was laughing silently. ‘Mary said that she would get a room ready for me.’ He added silkily: ‘You don’t mind?’
‘I, mind? Certainly not. It is none of my business, Professor Beaufort. I daresay you’ve also asked Mary to cook extra…’
‘No,’ he told her gently, ‘she suggested it. Should I have asked you?’
Deborah went pink; on the whole she was a good tempered girl but today her good nature was being tried severely; besides she had been rude.
‘I’m only in charge of the children,’ she told him, ‘Mary runs the house. Besides I’m only temporary.’
As she dealt with the small Dee’s needs, she could hear the twins giggling and shouting and the occasional rumble of their uncle’s voice. ‘They’ll be quite out of hand—I’ll never get them to bed,’ she observed to the placid infant on her knee. ‘He’ll get them all worked up…’
But surprisingly, when she went to fetch the twins for their baths and bed, they went with her like lambs. Not so much as a peep out of them and so unnaturally good that Deborah wondered if they were sickening for something. She put a small capable hand on their foreheads and found them reassuringly cool and finally demanded to know what was the matter with them.
They exchanged glances and looked at her with round blue eyes, ‘Uncle Gideon made us promise so we won’t tell. Are we being good?’
‘Yes—and I can’t think why.’ She gave them a close look. ‘You’re not up to mischief, are you?’
Meekly they assured her that they weren’t. She tucked them into their beds, kissed them goodnight, and went to her room, where she did her face carefully, scraped her sandy hair back into a severe style becoming to a well-trained nanny, and went downstairs.
Professor Beaufort was stretched out on one of the out-size sofas in the sitting room, his eyes closed. She stood and looked at him; he was very good looking she conceded, and like that, asleep, he was nice; it was when he stared at her with bright blue eyes and spoke to her in that bland voice that she disliked him. She gave a faint yelp when he spoke.
‘You don’t look in the least like a nanny should.’ He observed and got to his feet in one swift movement, to tower over her, beaming.
She fought against his charm; saying severely: ‘I assure you that I am fully qualified.’
‘Oh, I can see that, you handle the twins like a veteran. Tell me—what is your ambition? To get a post with some blue-blooded family and stay with them all your life and then retire to an estate cottage?’
She felt rage bubble inside her. ‘I might possibly marry,’ she pointed out sweetly and choked at his bland: ‘He will be a brave man… Shall we have a drink? Mary told me that dinner would be ready in ten minutes or so.’
She accepted a sherry and wished that she had asked for something dashing like whisky or even gin and tonic. Just so that he would see that she wasn’t the prim, dedicated nanny that he had decided she was. But she did the next best thing; she asked for a second drink and he poured it without comment, only his eyebrows lifted in an amused arc which she didn’t see. She tossed it off smartly so that she was able to face their tête à tête meal with equanimity and a chattiness quite unlike her usual quiet manner.
Professor Beaufort quite shamelessly led her on, his grave face offering no hint of his amusement. She told him about her three brothers, her home in Dorchester, cousin Rachel and only just stopped herself in time from regaling him with some of the foibles she had had to put up with from various parents whose children she had taken care of. Finally, vaguely aware that she was talking too much, she asked: ‘And is your work very interesting, Professor? I’m not quite sure what you do…’
He passed his plate for a second helping of Mary’s delicious apple pie. ‘I study the production and distribution of money and goods.’
‘Yes, but don’t you work?’
‘Er—yes. I have an office and I travel a good deal as well as lecturing regularly.’
‘Oh—do people want to know—about money and goods, I mean?’
‘It helps if they do. The management of public affairs, the disposition of affairs of state or government departments, the judicious use of public money—someone has to know about such things.’
‘And do you?’ she queried.
‘One might say that I have a basic knowledge…’
‘It sounds dull. I’d rather have the children,’ said Deborah, still rather lively from the sherry.
He said slowly: ‘I think that possibly you are right, Nanny. I hadn’t given the matter much thought, but now that you mention it, I shall look into it. Do you suppose that Mary would give us our coffee on the patio? It’s a delightful evening.’
Somehow being called ‘Nanny’ brought her down to earth with a bump. She poured their coffee almost in silence and when she had drunk hers excused herself with the plea that Dee would be waking for her feed very shortly. She wished him goodnight, every inch the children’s nurse, and went upstairs. It was too early to feed Dee; she pottered round her room for half an hour, aware that she would have liked to have stayed and talked, and aware too that she had said too much anyway.
She gave the baby her bottle presently, turned the twins up the right way and tucked them in once more, and got herself ready for bed. It was very warm and she had taken too hot a bath; she sat by the open window for quite some time, brushing her hair and thinking about her future. The professor had been joking, supposing her to be content with a lifelong job with the same family and an old age in some cottage, but it held more than a grain of truth. She didn’t relish the idea in the least. She got up and went to look at herself in the triple mirror. No one—no man—was likely to fall for her; sandy hair was bad enough, sandy eyelashes were the utter end; the lovely green eyes she ignored and studied the rest of her face; the small straight nose and much too wide mouth above a determined chin; there was nothing there to enchant a man. She overlooked the fact that she had a pretty figure and nice hands and legs, all she could think of was curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes fringed by dark curling lashes. Her own lashes curled, but being sandy they were almost invisible. ‘I could of course dye them,’ she told her image, but perhaps that would make the rest of her face look odd. She got into bed, fretting about the eyelashes and fell asleep almost at once.
She awoke to pitch darkness and a whimper, thin as a kitten’s protest; by the time she was sitting up in bed to listen, the whimper had become a furious roar. One of the twins was having a nightmare; she shot out of bed and went on bare feet through the day nursery and into the adjoining room where the pair of them slept. It was Suzanne, half awake and bellowing with fright. Deborah plucked her gently from her bed, gathered her into her arms and sat down in the little arm chair by the window, half strangled by the child’s arms. It took a few moments to wake her up completely and twice as long to get her to stop crying. Deborah had soothed the sobbing to a series of sniffs and gulps when Simon woke, sat up in bed and demanded to know why Suzy was crying. The two of them were very close; he got out of his bed and came to join them, perching on the arm of the chair, demanding to know in a loud voice what the matter was.
‘Well, that’s what we are going to find out,’ said Deborah reasonably, ‘I expect it was a nasty dream, wasn’t it? But you are wide awake now and dreams aren’t real you know. You shall tell me about it and then you’ll forget it and when you’ve had a nice drink of warm milk, you’ll go to sleep again and wake up in the morning quite happy again. Now tell Nanny what made you cry, darling?’
Simon slid off the chair and she turned her head to see why. The professor was leaning in the doorway, huge and magnificent in a dazzlingly-striped dressing-gown. The little boy hurled himself at him and was swung into his arms, to be carried to his bed and sat on his uncle’s knee.
Deborah, her hair hanging in a clean, shining curtain on her shoulders and down her back, bare feet digging into the thick rug, gave the professor a passing glance, and turned her attention to Suzy; she had forgotten that she hadn’t bothered to put on her dressing-gown and there was nothing in his face to remind her of that fact. She bent her head to hear the child’s tearful whispering, tossing back her sandy tresses with an impatient hand. The telling took some time with a good deal of sniffing and gulping but she listened patiently and finally when the child had come to a halt said hearteningly: ‘There now—it’s all right again, isn’t it? You’ve told us all about it and although it was a nasty dream, you’ve forgotten it because we all know about it, don’t we? Now I’m going to get you some milk and then I’ll sit here until you’ve gone to sleep again…’
‘Let me have her here,’ suggested the professor, who went on: ‘I should put your dressing-gown on before you go downstairs.’ His voice was quite impersonal but she gave a horrified squeak and pattered out of the room without another word. Bundled into her useful saxe-blue robe, buttoned from neck to ankle, she was glad of the few minutes it took in which to heat the milk. What must he have thought? She was no prude, after all she had three brothers, but children’s nurses to the best of her knowledge didn’t go prancing round in the dead of night in cotton nighties and nothing else when there were strangers around. And the professor was a stranger, and although she didn’t care a jot for his opinion of her, she squirmed at the idea of giving him something to snigger about…snigger wasn’t the right word, she conceded, give him his due, he wasn’t like that. All the same she dared say that he would have no hesitation in remarking on her dishabille if he felt like it.
She removed the milk from the Aga, poured it into two mugs, put them on a tray and bore it upstairs with a stiff dignity which caused the professor’s fine mouth to twitch, although he said nothing, merely took the mug she offered Simon while she sat Suzy on her lap and coaxed her to drink. The pair of them were sleepy now; the milk finished, she tucked them back into bed, refused the professor’s offer to sit with them until they were well and truly asleep and bade him a dismissive goodnight. Only he wouldn’t be dismissed. ‘I’m going to make us a hot drink,’ he informed her, ‘I’ll be in the kitchen when you are ready.’
He cast an eye over the two drowsy children. ‘Ten minutes at the outside, I should imagine.’
‘I don’t want…’ began Deborah and was stopped by the steely look he bent upon her. ‘You will have to be up soon after six o’clock for Dee—it is now a little after two in the morning; you will need to sleep as quickly as possible, a hot drink helps.’
He was right, of course, although it wouldn’t be the first time she had gone short of sleep, and he was right about the twins too, they were asleep within minutes of being tucked in. She waited for a good five minutes and then went downstairs to the kitchen, cosy and magnificently equipped, to find the professor pouring steaming milk into two mugs.
‘Cocoa,’ he said, barely glancing at her, and handed her one.
She sat down at the table and drank it as obediently as Suzy had done, and tried to think of something to say; but small talk didn’t come easily at the dead of night and anyway, her companion seemed unworried by the silence. She had almost finished when he observed: ‘It’s the twins’ birthday in two weeks’ time—I’m giving them a dog—a golden labrador puppy—he’ll keep them busy and sleep in their room, that should stop the nightmares.’
