Heaven Around the Corner. Betty Neels
for a final pot of tea before bed, and her news was received with some astonishment. Louisa had always been considered a rather quiet girl, well liked and ready to join in any fun but unlikely to do anything out of the ordinary. There was a spate of excited talk and any amount of unsolicited advice before they finally went to their own beds.
There were two days to go before her days off. She used them to good advantage, arranging to get a passport and recklessly drawing out quite a big slice of her savings to buy new clothes. Common sense made her pause though before doing that. Supposing Miss Savage changed her mind, she might need the money…
But Miss Savage didn’t disappoint her; there was a letter confirming the job and a promise to advise her as to travel arrangements in due course. Louisa counted her money and promised herself one or two shopping excursions. But first she had to go home.
She caught an early morning train to Sevenoaks; she could have gone the evening before, but that would have meant another night to be spent at home, but now she would be there well before noon and if there were people coming to lunch, her stepmother wouldn’t have much time to talk to her. She got into the Ightham bus and settled down for the four-mile journey, looking with pleasure at the country they were going through. The trees were beginning to turn already and little spirals of blue smoke rose in the cottage gardens where the bonfires had been started. And the village looked lovely, too, with its square ringed by old houses. Linda paused to pass the time of day with some of the people who knew her and then walked up the narrow lane leading to her home.
The house was old and timbered and stood sideways on to the lane, surrounded by trees and large gardens. Louisa opened the little gate set in a corner of the hedge, well away from the drive, then walked across the grass and in through a side door leading to a low-ceilinged room furnished with rather old-fashioned chairs and small tables. There were bookshelves on either side of the open hearth and a rather shabby Turkey carpet on the floor. She was halfway across it when the door opened and Mrs Evans came in.
‘There you are!’ Her voice was sharp and held no welcome. ‘You should have come last night—Frank was here. And why on earth did you come in this way? You know this room isn’t used.’ She looked around her with a dissatisfied air. ‘So shabby and old-fashioned.’
Louisa put down her overnight bag. ‘It was Mother’s sitting room,’ she said flatly, ‘and Father loved it.’
Mrs Evans shrugged thin, elegant shoulders. ‘Did you pass your exams?’ and when Louisa nodded: ‘Thank heaven for that, now perhaps you’ll see some sense and settle down. I must say Frank’s been patient.’
‘I’ve no intention of marrying Frank, and I’m rather tired of saying so.’
‘Then you’re a fool. He’s got everything—money, that splendid house in the village, that gorgeous car and a villa in Spain. What more could a girl want? Especially when she’s not pretty. You’re not likely to get another chance like that.’ She gave Louisa a quick look. ‘You’ve not fallen in love with one of those young doctors, I hope?’
‘No. Why are you so anxious for me to marry Frank Little?’
Her stepmother’s answer was a little too careless. ‘He’s devoted to you and he’ll be generous.’
Louisa studied her stepmother; still quite young, pretty and very elegant; extravagant, too. She had been left everything in the will, but Louisa suspected that she had spent most of it during the last three years and had deliberately cultivated Frank Little, hoping for an amenable son-in-law who would pay her bills—and an equally amenable stepdaughter who would marry him.
Well, I won’t, thought Louisa. If only her stepmother had been fifteen or ten years younger she could have married him herself. The fact of her father’s marriage to a woman so much younger than himself still hurt Louisa. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she had loved him. She still wondered at his marrying her; this scheming, clever woman who had twisted him round her little finger and had never forgiven Louisa for not allowing herself to be twisted too. She could think of nothing to say and picked up her bag.
‘There are several people coming to lunch,’ said Mrs Evans. ‘You’d better go and tidy yourself.’ She turned and went out of the room ahead of Louisa and crossed the hall to the drawing room, and Louisa went upstairs to her room. While she did her face and tidied her hair she thought about leaving England; she would miss her home, but that was all. She would have to come once more before she went because her stepmother would demand it and if she refused she might wonder why. The temptation to tell her was very great, but Mrs Evans was clever enough to prevent her going. She knew so many people, influential people who could perhaps put a spoke in Louisa’s wheel. A car coming up the drive and rather noisy voices greeting each other interrupted her thoughts. She gave her unremarkable person a final inspection in the pier glass, and went downstairs.
The drawing room seemed to have a lot of people in it, but only because they were all talking at once a shade too loudly. Louisa shook hands all round, took the sherry she was offered and made small talk. She knew the five people who had arrived, but only slightly; they were friends of her stepmother’s who had never come to the house while her father was alive, but now they were regular visitors. There was one more to come, of course—Frank Little.
He came in presently, a man in his late thirties, rather short and plump, with an air of self-importance which sat ill on his round face with its weak chin. He stood in the doorway for a moment, giving everyone there a chance to greet him, and then went straight to Louisa.
‘Your dear mother assured me that you would be here,’ he stated without a greeting. ‘I know how difficult it is for you to get away.’ He took her hand and pressed it. ‘I can only hope it’s because you knew that I would be here that you came.’
Louisa took her hand away. It was a pity he was so pompous; otherwise she might have felt sorry for him. ‘I didn’t have to make any special effort to come home,’ she told him politely, ‘and I didn’t know you’d be here.’
Which wasn’t quite true; he was always there when she went home. She moved a little way from him. ‘What will you drink?’
He sat next to her at lunch, monopolising the conversation in his over-hearty voice, making no secret of the fact that he considered her to be his property.
And he was at dinner too, ill-tempered now because she had escaped that afternoon and gone for a walk—her favourite walk, to Ivy Hatch where the manor house of Ightham Moat stood. She had got back too late for tea and her stepmother had been coldly angry.
And the next day was as bad, worse in fact, for Frank had waylaid her on her way back from the village and rather blusteringly asked her to marry him, and that for the fourth time in a year.
She refused gently because although she didn’t like him she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Only when he added angrily: ‘Your mother considers me to be the perfect husband for you,’ did she turn on her heel and start walking away from him. As she went she said over her shoulder: ‘She is not my mother, Frank, and I intend to choose my own husband when I want to and not before.’
He caught up with her. ‘I’m coming up to see you this evening—I’m invited for dinner and there’ll be no one else there.’
So after tea she went to her room, packed her bag, told her stepmother that she was leaving on the next bus and went out of the house. Mrs Evans had been too surprised to do or say anything. Louisa, leaping into the bus as it was about to leave, waved cheerfully to Frank, about to cross the village square.
She arrived back at the Royal Southern quite unrepentant, prudently asked one of her friends to say that she wasn’t in the home if the telephone went and it was her stepmother, and retired to soak in a hot bath until bedtime.
The ward was busy and she spent almost all her free time shopping, so that she was too tired by the end of the day to have second thoughts about her new job. And at the end of the week she received a letter from Miss Savage confirming it, asking her to call once more so that final details might be sorted out and giving her the day and time of their flight.