All Else Confusion. Бетти Нилс

the Rover for the time being. We must see about getting a car later on.’ She bustled out on a tide of goodbyes, explaining to Matt as they went.

      When the last sounds of the car had died away Mrs Fothergill said: ‘You do want to go, darling? I shall miss you, and so will your father, but it will make a nice change and you’ll have some money.’

      ‘We’ll have some money,’ Annis corrected her. ‘I’ve already made a list, have you?’

      Her mother nodded happily. ‘But it’s your money, Annis. Now tell me, what sort of a house is it?’

      Annis began to tell her, and it took quite a time; she hadn’t quite finished when her father came in from a parish council meeting, and she went to get the supper and make sure that the younger ones were doing their homework properly.

      Back at the Manor House, Mrs Duvant was writing a letter. She wrote as she did most things, with enthusiasm and a great many flourishes of the pen and she smiled a good deal as she wrote. It was a long letter. She read it through, put it in an envelope and addressed it to Jake Royle, whose godmother she was.

      The house at Bath looked very welcoming as Annis drew up before it on Saturday afternoon. It had been a bright, cold day and now that the sun was almost gone there was already a sparkle of frost, but the house blazed with lights, and as they went in Annis noticed the great bowl of daffodils on the hall table and in the little sitting room where they at once went, the window held hyacinths of every colour. There was a vase of roses too, long-stemmed and perfect. Mrs Duvant picked up the card with them and chuckled as she read it, although she didn’t say why.

      ‘We’d like tea, Bates,’ she said briskly, ‘I know it’s rather late, but perhaps Mrs Bates could put dinner back half an hour?’

      So the two of them had tea together round the fire before going upstairs to unpack and get ready for dinner. ‘I always like to change my dress,’ observed Mrs Duvant. ‘Nothing fancy, you know, unless I’m going out, but it somehow makes the evening more of an occasion, if you see what I mean?’

      So Annis took the hint and put on the green jersey, wondering as she did so if she might get herself another dress when she was paid. She and her mother had pored over their lists, scratching out and adding until they had spent her wages, on paper at least, to the greatest advantage. Even after everyone had had something there was a little over for herself—enough for a dress—something plain and dateless to take the place of the outworn blue velvet. Doubtless she would have some time to herself in which to browse among the shops. Annis tugged her green jersey into shape with an impatient hand and went downstairs.

      She discovered after the first few days that her duties were light in the extreme and consisted mainly in finding Mrs Duvant’s spectacles, handbag, library book and knitting whenever she mislaid them, which was often, reminding her of the various things she wished to do each day, and unpicking her knitting when she got it in a muddle; that was pretty often too. The pair of them got on excellently together and since Annis got on equally well with the Bates’, the household was a happy one.

      She had been there a week when the even tenor of her days was unexpectedly shaken. Mrs Duvant had the habit of retiring for an afternoon nap after lunch each day, leaving Annis to do as she wished. Previously she had gone for a brisk walk, done some window shopping and taken herself round the Roman Baths, but this afternoon it was raining, not a soft rain to be ignored, but a steady, icy downpour. Annis decided on a book by the fire as she came downstairs after seeing Mrs Duvant safely tucked up. There were plenty of books in the sitting room and an hour or so with one of them would be very pleasant.

      Bates met her on the stairs. ‘Mr Royle has arrived, miss—he’s in the drawing room.’

      Annis stood staring at him, her mouth a little open. ‘Mr Royle? What on earth…I didn’t know Mrs Duvant was expecting him.’ She suppressed the little spurt of excitement at the idea of meeting him again and reminded herself that she didn’t like him, which made her voice sound reluctant.

      ‘I suppose I’d better go…’ her voice trailed off and Bates coughed gently. ‘It would be a pity to disturb Mrs Duvant,’ he reminded her.

      Annis took a step down. ‘Yes, of course, Bates.’

      She went past him, crossed the hall, opened the drawing room door reluctantly and went unwillingly inside.

      Jake Royle was standing, very much at home, before the fire. She said idiotically: ‘Oh, hullo, Bates told me you were here. I’m afraid Mrs Duvant’s having a nap, she always does after lunch.’

      ‘Yes, I know that.’ He smiled at her, and since it was obvious after a moment that he wasn’t going to say anything else, she plunged into speech.

      ‘Aren’t you going back to New Zealand?’ she asked.

      His firm mouth twitched. ‘Is that where you would consign me, Annis?’

      ‘Of course not, Mr Royle. Why should I consign you anywhere?’

      ‘My name is Jake.’ He went on standing there, watching her and she sought feverishly for a topic of conversation. ‘I’m staying with Mrs Duvant,’ she said.

      ‘Yes, I know that too.’

      She frowned. At least he could give a hand with the conversation, the wretch! ‘I expect you’ll be staying for tea? I’m sure Mrs Duvant will want to see you.’

      He grinned at her. ‘I’m here for a few days—I visit Aunt Dora from time to time—we’ve known each other since I was a small boy,’ and at the look of surprise on her face: ‘Oh, she’s not a genuine aunt, just an adopted one.’

      ‘Oh, yes, I see. Perhaps you’d like to see your room?’

      He answered her gravely enough, although his eyes danced with amusement.

      ‘I expect Bates has taken my things upstairs for me. I’d love some tea—we can always have it again when Aunt Dora comes down.’

      Annis, intent on being coolly impersonal, only succeeded in looking delightfully flustered as she rang the bell and rather belatedly asked if he would sit down, rather pink now at her lack of manners and a little cross because Jake seemed to have the power to make her feel shy and awkward, something which she, a parson’s daughter, had learned not to be at an early age. And when tea came she was furious to find that her hands shook as she poured it. Jake, observing this, smiled to himself and embarked on a steady flow of small talk which was only interrupted by the arrival of Mrs Duvant, who came trotting in, her round face wreathed in smiles.

      ‘Now isn’t this nice?’ she aked them. ‘Annis, ring for more tea, will you? And I’ve left my spectacles somewhere… Jake, I hope you can stay for a few days—you’ve got your car with you, I suppose? you can drive us… Ah, thank you, dear, I knew I’d put them down somewhere.’ She paused to pour tea. ‘There’s a concert at the Assembly Rooms this evening, will you come with us?’

      Jake agreed lazily. ‘Anything you say, Aunt Dora. I hope it’s not Bach?’

      ‘Strauss and Schubert and someone singing, but I can’t remember the name.’

      ‘As long as she’s nice to look at.’

      Annis, drinking her unwanted tea, wondered what on earth she should wear; the green or the blue velvet? She had nothing else, and if only she’d known she would have bought that blue crêpe dress, the one she had seen in Milsom Street; after all, she had her first week’s money in her purse. Now it was too late. She knitted her brows; there was no earthly reason why she should fuss over what she should wear. What was good enough for her and Mrs Duvant was good enough for Jake Royle, it couldn’t matter in the least to him what she wore. There would be dozens of pretty girls there, wearing gorgeous outfits. She became aware that they were both looking at her, Mrs Duvant smiling, Jake with his brows lifted in amusement. They must have said something.

      ‘I’m sorry, did you ask me something?’

      ‘No, love—I was just telling Jake