Never too Late. Бетти Нилс

although his eyes were dancing. ‘Although I spend a good deal of time over here. You could start at once or within a few days, just as you wish.’ And as the doorbell rang, ‘You’ll have to decide here and now; that sounds like Tony.’

      Nancy had gone to open the door and Tony followed her into the room. His eyes swept the rather untidy table and came to rest on Prudence. ‘I see you’re enjoying yourself, Prudence,’ he remarked, and nodded to James and Benedict. ‘Lucky little girl, aren’t you, while I spend my days hard at work!’

      She didn’t answer him, she looked across the table at Benedict. She said very clearly: ‘Yes.’ Being called a little girl had been the last straw; she stood five feet seven in her stockings and she was a big girl.

      James broke the silence with some remark about Tony’s trip and they listened to his pompous reply before Nancy asked: ‘Will you have a drink, Tony? Or I’ll make some fresh coffee. James and Benedict were just going to wash up in the kitchen—I expect you two would like to be alone for a bit.’

      Prudence cast her sister a telling glance, but before she could answer Tony said: ‘As to that, I don’t give much for these sentimental partings and I won’t stay for coffee—there’s a man I have to see before I leave…’

      ‘I’m not going to marry you,’ said Prudence suddenly, and the four of them looked at her, Nancy and James with sympathy Tony with outraged astonishment and Benedict van Vinke with faint amusement.

      ‘Don’t talk rubbish!’ said Tony sharply.

      ‘It’s not rubbish.’ Prudence took the ring off her finger and put it on the table. ‘We could have been married a dozen times in these last four years, Tony, and now it’s too late.’

      ‘You’ve decided to be a dutiful daughter and live at home?’ he asked with a faint sneer.

      ‘No, I’ve got a job.’

      ‘You’ve never done a day’s work in your life—what can you do?’

      ‘Prudence has agreed to join my household as a personal assistant to me and companion to my small daughter.’ Benedict’s voice was quiet, but there was a hint of steel in it which made Tony pause before he answered.

      He said stiffly: ‘We don’t need anyone interfering in our affairs. I’ll talk to Prudence.’ He turned to her. ‘Come into another room and we’ll settle this once and for all.’

      ‘No need—it’s settled. I’m sorry, Tony, but I’m not the right wife for you—you must know that, because if I had been, you’d have married me years ago.’ She picked up the ring. ‘Here you are. I hope you have a successful trip.’

      She went out of the room rather quickly and went into the kitchen and shut the door. Even though she knew she had done the right thing, it was a little frightening to find herself alone after almost four years, and now she had committed herself to a job she knew nothing about in a country she had never been to with a man she had met only for the second time that evening. She felt lightheaded with relief and regret for what might have been, and at the same time scared of the future.

      CHAPTER TWO

      PRUDENCE WAS vaguely aware of voices, the faint thump of the front door closing and a moment later the door behind her opening.

      ‘Tea?’ Benedict’s voice sounded matter-of-fact as he crossed to the sink, filled the kettle and set it to boil. He didn’t look at her as he went on: ‘Your habit of drinking tea at all times is one to which I strongly subscribe.’

      ‘You’re Dutch?’ Prudence hadn’t given it a thought until now. ‘Why is your English so good?’

      ‘Perhaps because I spend a good deal of time in England. I went to school here and then Cambridge, but I am still a Dutchman, through and through.’

      ‘I don’t know a thing about you.’ And then because she couldn’t help herself: ‘Has he gone?’

      ‘Yes.’ He gave her a lightning glance and poured water into a teapot. ‘There’s not much to tell—I’m a G.P. My home is in Appeldoorn, a rather pleasant town in the centre of Holland—I’ve already told you that, haven’t I?’ He found a mug and filled it to the brim. ‘Drink that—we won’t talk any more about it tonight, you’re not registering anyway. I’ll come round tomorrow morning and we’ll go for a walk and discuss your duties.’ And when she looked at him in a puzzled way: ‘You agreed to come and work for me.’

      ‘Yes—yes, and I meant it, that is if you think I could cope?’

      ‘Why shouldn’t you cope?’ he wanted to know coolly. ‘There’s almost no skill involved.’

      Prudence frowned. ‘That sounds rude.’

      ‘It’s not meant to be—what I mean is that it’s a job that any sensible woman could do, and you seem sensible.’

      ‘Oh—do I? Well, I can type and do a shaky shorthand and I can cook and keep house and do simple accounts, and I’ve taught in Sunday School for ten years.’

      ‘Exactly the kind of person I’m looking for.’ He smiled at her and opened the kitchen door. ‘Let’s join the others.’

      Nancy and James didn’t say anything; they were making rather a thing of clearing up, and it wasn’t until Benedict began a lighthearted conversation about the party that they joined in, looking relieved. Benedict went shortly after that with the casual remark that he would be along about ten o’clock the next morning; he wished Nancy and James goodbye, then stopped in front of Prudence. ‘We all get our bad moments,’ he told her kindly. ‘They don’t last, if that’s any consolation to you, though they’re the very devil while they’re there.’

      He squeezed her shoulder with an enormous hand and she felt strangely comforted.

      She hadn’t expected to sleep, but she did, and woke feeling such relief that everything was all over and done with that it quite washed out any other feeling. Nancy and James, prepared to treat her with cautious sympathy, were surprised to see her eat a good breakfast and listen to her cheerful comments about the party. ‘And you don’t have to worry about me,’ she assured them. ‘I ought to have done it ages ago—I’m sure that Tony’s as relieved as I am—he’ll find himself an American heiress, I’ve no doubt.’ She looked at her sister. ‘Was he very upset when he went?’ Her voice faltered a little. ‘I should have stayed, but I just couldn’t.’

      ‘Of course you couldn’t,’ said Nancy warmly. ‘If you mean was he unhappy about it—no, I don’t think he was; his pride had had a nasty jolt and he was worried about people talking. Are you really going to work for Benedict?’

      ‘Oh, yes, it sounds the kind of job I can manage without falling flat on my face, he said he’d tell me about it when he comes this morning.’

      ‘He’d better stay to lunch,’ said Nancy.

      Benedict arrived at ten o’clock, declined coffee, enquired if Prudence was ready and when she had got a jacket to cover her jersey dress, walked her briskly to Highgate Ponds, across Parliament Hill and so on to Hampstead Heath. He didn’t talk about anything much until they were turning back in the direction of Highgate Ponds once more, and as for Prudence, she was happy to walk and enjoy her surroundings and not think too much.

      They had been silent in a comfortable companionship way for a minute or two when he asked to surprise her: ‘Do you have any money of your own?’

      She stared at him in surprise. ‘Me? Yes, a small income from some money my godmother left me. Why?’

      ‘It makes it so much easier,’ he explained. ‘If you don’t like the job you won’t feel that you must stay because you need the money.’

      ‘I hadn’t thought of that. But I’m sure I’ll like it; I do want to do something, not just stay at home. Mother and Father don’t actually need me there,