Sweet Sanctuary (3 page)

"Hello, Nick dear. Have you met Kate? Kate, this is my nephew, and such a kind, generous boy. He has given me a home all these years, just as if I were his mother. His mother was my best friend, you know… No, that isn't right. His grandmother? Was it your grandmother, Nick dear?"

"My mother," Nicholas said slowly, on a sigh.

"I loved her so much. When she died I was heart-broken. Nick's father didn't know how to bring up a boy alone, and I was so happy to step into the breach." She kissed his cheek, leaving a long smudge of mud across his face. Kate suppressed a smile, and Nick glared at her. "Take Kate into the house to wash before tea, Nick. You mustn't forget your manners. She's a guest in the house."

"We'll discuss the matter later, then," Nicholas said. "Don't think I've given in, Aunt. I haven't, I've merely shelved it."

"Of course," said Mrs. Butler vaguely. "Do look at these cabbages. Aren't they splendid? So bushy and well-grown. I've had good luck with them this spring."

Nicholas took Kate by the arm and forcibly marched her towards the house, muttering under his breath. A frown creased his forehead and his eyes were furious.

"What you'll find to do I have no idea," he said. "The house runs itself. Aunt Elaine does the cooking. A woman from the village does the heavy work."

"I thought you'd decided I must go?" Kate kept her tone innocent, but he glared at her.

"You know her—you've seen what it's like arguing with her? She just talks about something else. That's how it is over Sylvia. She's never said a word to me against Sylvia—she just talks about something else whenever the subject comes up. It's like trying to fight fog."

"So it's just Sylvia's word for it that Mrs. Butler hates her? You really have no idea what your aunt thinks?"

He looked grimly at the house. "Oh, I have a very shrewd notion. Aunt Elaine can convey a great deal with her silences."

They entered the house by the back door and Kate found herself in a huge, draughty kitchen. The floor was lined with much-scrubbed pink tiles, worn to a gentle rose colour. A recess held an old kitchen range tiled with old Dutch scenes of blue windmills and little rows of stiff blue tulips. Geraniums lined the windows, their pots cluttering the sills. The Welsh dresser was crammed with plates, some painted with birds and flowers, some in traditional willow-pattern style.

The cups and saucers were a motley collection, gay and colourful, painted with orange nasturtiums, roses or trailing ivy. Despite the shadowy, spider-haunted corners, the high ceiling and ill-fitting doors, the room had a homely, lived-in feeling, which made it more inviting than the most modern, well-equipped kitchen in the world.

Under the scrubbed deal table was a basket full of mewing kittens, and Kate fell to her knees to embrace them in delight. They spilled out over her skirt, mild blue eyes shining, claws scratching gently on her coat.

"Oh, no! Where did she get them from? I never leave this house for a day or two but she. manages to smuggle some animal or other into it!"

Kate looked up at Nicholas with angry eyes. "Look at them, the darlings! Don't you like kittens?"

He bent to scratch one behind the ear, and found himself with it on his chest, purring loudly and kneading his shoulder with a curled paw, the minute body shaken with heavenly delight.

Kate watched him. She saw the gentleness of his hands, the smile in his eyes.

"They'll have to go tomorrow," Nicholas sighed despairingly. "You will really all have to go tomorrow."

When Kate came downstairs the following morning she found the kitchen empty except for the kittens in their basket under the table. A kettle purred on the black range. There was a bowl of fruit in the centre of the table, flanked by a large coffee pot, two cups and a bright yellow egg-cup on a green plate.

"I thought I heard you moving about," said Nicholas, coming into the room behind her. "Aunt Elaine is feeding the animals. Will you make yourself some coffee and boil an egg?"

"Am I late?" She looked in consternation at her watch. It was just eight o'clock.

"We get up very early." He watched her making herself some coffee, putting an egg on to boil, slicing and buttering bread. He was flipping the pages of a newspaper, sipping some coffee which looked half cold.

"I must go," he said, shouldering into a dark jacket, straightening his tie and picking up a bulging briefcase. "I have to drive to Maiden by nine."

"Goodbye," she said uncertainly, wondering if she would be gone before he got back. From the way he stood there, looking at her and the kittens with a sort of comic despair, she could tell that his thoughts were somewhat similar.

"Look," he said roughly, "I'm sorry about all this —you must be furious with Aunt Elaine and myself. I suppose you've had a rough deal. What will you do?"

She shrugged, carefully peeling an orange with small, slender fingers that shook slightly.

"I will have to find another job, I imagine," she said flatly, keeping her gaze on the orange.

"Why did you take a job like this in the first place? What did your family think of such a crazy idea?"

"I have no family," she told him in a calm voice. One of the kittens scrambled over the top of the basket, falling with a muffled squeal to the floor, and Nicholas fenced it with his foot, very gently, before bending to pick it up and pop it back among its relatives. Then he put down his briefcase and sat down at the table again, propping his head with his hands in a gesture of wry defeat.

"Tell me about yourself! I might as well know the worst."

"The worst?"

He put out one hand and took a piece of orange. "How can I go off to work now? Come on, out with it."

"There's nothing to tell. I'm an orphan, yes, but that doesn't make me a suitable case for charity. You're an orphan yourself. A lot of people are!"

"Where have you lived until now? An orphanage?"

"With an aunt, who died recently." Her voice was deliberately crisply matter-of-fact. She looked at him as he took the last segment of orange. "I hope you enjoyed that. Shall I peel you another?"

He grinned at her sarcasm. "Sorry." He watched her take the top off the boiled egg. "Here, I'll pour you some coffee before it gets cold." He did so deftly, pouring himself some at the same time.

Kate ate her
egg
without relish. Nicholas watched her over the top of his cup, his expression unreadable. The sunlight, spilling over the geraniums, glittering on saucepans and cutlery and lying in warm yellow pools on the floor, gave the room a new gaiety. She looked around the kitchen. She wanted to stay in this house very much. There was a warm, caring atmosphere which seemed to enfold everyone, human and animal alike.

She had slept like an angel last night in the sparsely furnished room to which Mrs. Butler had shown her. The bed had been old, with brass bedknobs and a sagging feather mattress into which she had sunk as into a snowdrift, every muscle relaxing on a sigh. Although there was only the minimum of furniture, the home-made patchwork quilt, in faded squares of many colours, and the much washed chintz curtains, had given emphasis to the homely feeling, and in the morning sunshine she had felt eagerly drawn to the room.

"What am I going to do with you?" Nicholas sighed.

"Don't worry," she told him, without a sign of her inner struggle. "I shall have left by tonight. I do see your point of view, you know. If I'd known the real situation here, I would never have come."

"Aunt Elaine has a great deal to answer for!" He gave an exasperated groan. "Look, I must get off to work, but you'd better stay until I get back tonight. We'll sort something out then—I may be able to find you another fob where you'll be offered a home." His glance was gentle. "That's what you need— a home."

"I can find myself a job, thank you! And I'm not a stray dog looking for a home, I'm quite capable of looking after myself."

"Oh, obviously," he said drily.

Kate flushed. "Everyone isn't as devious as Mrs. Butler. I shall be more wary when I meet my next employer, and make sure I have all the facts before I make a decision."

"Next time choose a man," he advised her. She laughed ironically. "Would you really say that they were less devious than a woman? I'm not so certain."

"What do you know about men?" His smile scoffed. "Living alone with an old aunt for years! I was right when I thought you looked as if you'd escaped from a nunnery. That untouched face… you could be all of twelve years old in some lights!"

She trembled with anger and hurt pride. "I'm old enough to resent personal remarks, anyway, Mr Adams!" She turned away to hide her trembling lips.

"Will you stay until tonight?" he asked after a pause.

"No." Her voice was decisive. "I shall leave today."

"Don't be ridiculous! Where could you go? You have no home, no family."

"I shall go to a hotel. Aunt Agnes left me the house. Her solicitor has told me to send any bills to him and he will advance the money."

He took her by the shoulders and spun her round, his grey eyes penetrating.

He was a very attractive man, she thought, as she had thought when she first saw him, but now that she knew him better she saw the laughter lines at the corner of mouth and eye, and the kindness which he had striven to fight down because he knew how it could involve him in yet more problems. I mustn't let him be kind to me, Kate thought. I must be strong myself. He has enough problems already.

"Please, Kate," he said softly, smiling down into her small, obstinate features. "We won't make any rash decisions yet. Stay here today at least, and tomorrow well think of something for you."

That smile! she thought. She felt her determination seeping away under the impact of that smile. Weakness invaded her limbs.

He read her thoughts, saw the softening of mouth and eye, and smiled again.

"That's it! I'll see you later, then. I must dash-look after Aunt Elaine and the kittens for me!"

When he had gone the kitchen seemed less sunny. Kate shivered and knelt down to talk to the kittens. Their furry bodies and frantically beating little hearts were comforting as she held them, squirming and tumbling, on her lap.

She washed up and tidied the kitchen, then went out to look for Mrs. Butler. She found her in the paddock with the horses, talking to them in a quiet voice while they stood around her in an amiable way, their heads nodding now and then as though in answer to some question she put to them. They were all very old, but still eager for life, with mild eyes that shone with pleasure as they snuffled up the oats from the old woman's hands.

"Ah, there you are," said Mrs. Butler warmly, turning her head to smile at the girl. "Come and say good morning to Hercules, Pat and Grey Duke. The donkey is Polly, by the way, and a very sweet-tempered creature, my dear."

"And the goats?" smiled Kate.

"Oh, monsters! Eat anything—hats, buttons, shoe buckles… keep as far away from them as you can. Except when you're milking Rosy O'Grady."

"Milking…" began Kate in astonishment, wondering what her new employer meant.

"The nanny—she gives plenty of milk at the moment, and very good for you, too. I prefer goat's to cow's milk."