A Gem of a Girl. Бетти Нилс

wished she hadn’t said that because Matron looked so surprised, so she added hastily: ‘I’ll let you know, shall I?’

      It had been silly to say that, she admitted to herself as she went back home at her leisure, because of course she was sure; she was going. It would be a nice change from the old ladies, bless them. Besides, she was curious about the professor; she wanted to know exactly what work he did and where he lived and what his family was like. She wheeled her bike into the back garden and went indoors, frowning a little. She mustn’t get too curious; curiosity was one thing, getting too interested was another.

      The professor called round that evening, giving her an affable nod as he seated himself, at the twins’ urgent request, at the kitchen table so that he might give them the benefit of his knowledge concerning the more complicated aspects of the algebra they were struggling with.

      It wasn’t until he had solved the knottier of the problems that he looked up to say: ‘I’m returning to Holland in three days’ time, Gemma—will you be coming with me?’

      She glanced round her. The entire family had found its way into the kitchen by now, each of them apparently absorbed in some task which simply had to be done there, although Cousin Maud was just sitting doing nothing at all, looking at her. All of them were listening so hard for her answer that she could almost hear them doing it. She said ‘yes’, and then, because it had sounded rather terse: ‘Thank you, Professor.’

      ‘Thank you, Gemma,’ he answered gravely, and then with an abrupt change of manner, added cheerfully: ‘How about all of us gathering round the table for this?’

      They had all talked at once after that; they were a united family and each member of it considered that he or she had every right to add their say to the matter. It was the professor who made sense of and produced order out of the spate of suggestions, speculations and improbable advice which was offered. Over cups of cocoa and the total disintegration of the cake which Cousin Maud had only just taken out of the oven, it was decided that Gemma should go to Salisbury in the morning to get a visitor’s passport and replenish her wardrobe, but when she mentioned going to the bank to get some Dutch money, the professor pointed out that that would be quite unnecessary, for she would be paid a salary and he would advance any money she might need when they arrived in Holland.

      ‘How much are you going to pay her?’ George wanted to know, and was instantly shushed by his elders.

      ‘Exactly the same as she receives here,’ the professor told him. He looked across at Gemma. ‘That is if you find that an agreeable arrangement?’

      ‘Yes, thank you.’ She tried to sound as businesslike as he did, but instead her voice sounded a little ungracious, but he didn’t seem to notice, only smiled a little and presently got up to go.

      As he sauntered to the door he turned to say carelessly over his shoulder: ‘I have business in Salisbury—I’ll give you a lift. Will nine o’clock suit you?’

      As soon as he had gone, Mandy made a pot of tea and they all gathered round again. Gemma hadn’t been away for a holiday for a long time—true, this trip to Holland wasn’t exactly that, but it was abroad, and as such, an event. Her wardrobe was discussed at length by her sisters and cousin while the boys pored over an atlas, offering occasional unhelpful advice as to what she should take with her. Her sisters had more to say, though: Gemma had nice clothes, but not—they were emphatic about that—enough. Living in a small village with not much opportunity of going out, she tended to buy serviceable, even if nice, things and make them last far too long. She was quick to take Phil’s point that the professor’s family might live in the middle of a town and be most frightfully fashionable, in which case she would feel quite out of things. The matter was clinched by Mandy’s dreamy: ‘He wears the most super clothes himself, you know, and I bet they’re wildly expensive—you must have something new, Gemma darling.’