Philomena's Miracle. Betty Neels

paused on the stairs. ‘Yes, Mother, I passed.’ She didn’t add that it had mattered very much.

      ‘I suppose everyone celebrated?’ asked Chloe.

      ‘Yes,’ said Philomena, ‘it’s customary.’

      ‘How nice,’ remarked Mrs Parsons a little vaguely. ‘I expect you have lots of friends. No one special, I suppose?’

      Philomena had a sudden vivid memory of a large, fair man with kind blue eyes. She said, ‘No,’ feeling regret as she said it.

      She was up early; it had tacitly been agreed for some time now that as she rose early at the hospital, she should do the same at home, and while her stepmother and sisters had trays taken to their rooms by a hard-working Molly, she had formed the habit of eating her own breakfast with the housekeeper in the kitchen. And Molly, who found this unfair, made it up to her by dishing up a splendid meal of eggs and bacon, marmalade and toast and all the coffee she cared to drink, besides which she saw to it that Philomena had a newspaper to read while she ate. Usually she didn’t have much to say, but this morning, with the party looming, they talked. Miriam had a new boy-friend, a young man whom Molly described severely as nothing but a playboy: ‘Loaded with money,’ she added with a snort, ‘and spends it all on himself.’ She sniffed with disapproval. ‘Them as ’as money should know how to use it.’ She slapped the toast rack down with something of a thump. ‘Miss Miriam’s fair set on ’im—and so’s yer ma.’ She poured more coffee for Philomena. ‘And Miss Chloe, eighteen today, and just thrown over another young man—she’s begun too early if you ask me.’

      Philomena buttered more toast and spread it with Molly’s homemade marmalade. ‘Well, you know, girls seem to grow up more quickly nowadays,’ she observed with all the wisdom of twenty-three years, ‘and perhaps this boy-friend of Miriam’s really loves her—after all, if he’s all that rich he’s got to lavish his money on someone other than himself.’

      The housekeeper regarded her with loving scorn. ‘The trouble is with you, Miss Philly, you’re too nice—just like yer own ma—she weren’t no beauty, just like you, but nice enough to eat.’

      And Philomena, recognising this as a great compliment from one who seldom uttered them, thanked her, adding a hug and a kiss on an elderly cheek by way of extras.

      She spent the morning arranging the flowers, because she was good at it and as her stepmother pointed out, it was such a waste of money to employ someone to do it when Philly was so conveniently home, and then there were last-minute errands to run, the telephone to answer, and the buffet supper, a labour of love on Molly’s part, to check. The drinks Mrs Parsons had left to Mr Pierce; he would bring them round after they had all lunched at the Priory. ‘And for heaven’s sake hurry up and get dressed,’ begged Mrs Parsons, quite unmindful that until that moment Philly hadn’t had a moment to herself. ‘I want you to go on ahead, darling, and pop into Mr Timms’ and make sure he sends the icecream.’ She added: ‘We’ll meet you at the hotel.’

      So Philomena dressed, far too quickly so that her face had less attention than usual and her hair was screwed back in a rather careless knot, and hurried round to Mr Timms’, who was inclined to be hurt at the very idea of Mrs Parsons thinking that he might forget such an important order. Philomena said all she should have and, with time to spare, went straight to the hotel.

      The Pierces weren’t there yet, of course; Mr Gee, the owner, met her in the entrance and when they had passed the time of day, suggested that she might like to stroll through the gardens and take a look at the river. So she did that, wandering round the side of the lovely old building, with its small arched doorways and courtyards and coming eventually to the gardens. It was a bright day with a blue sky from which the sun shone without much warmth, and the gardens looked beautiful; tulips and late daffodils and hyacinths jostled for a place among the shrubs. Philomena took the narrow path which bordered the grounds and came to the river. There were no boats out, it was too early in the year still, but the swans were gliding along the further bank and the water looked clear and very clean. She was contemplating the scene when Doctor van der Tacx said ‘Hullo,’ from somewhere behind her and she spun round, green eyes wide in a plain face rendered more plain than it need have been by reason of the chilly little wind coming off the water. ‘It’s you!’ she exclaimed idiotically, and failed to see the amused gleam in his eyes.

      ‘In person.’ He went on smoothly: ‘Some friends told me what a very pleasant place this was for a few days’ peace and quiet; I arrived only a few minutes ago and happened to see you crossing the garden.’ His smile was charming and she found herself smiling back at him. ‘Of course, you live here…’

      She nodded. ‘Yes—just down the river a little way—we’re here for lunch with friends of my stepmother’s.’ She glanced at her watch and felt reluctance to go. ‘They’ll be here—I came on early, I had a message to deliver.’

      He turned away from the river. ‘We’ll walk back together. Have you a long holiday?’

      ‘A long weekend. Have you been here before?’

      He shook his head. ‘I seldom get further afield than London, I’m afraid, but it just so happens that I had a few days to spare.’ He glanced at her. ‘Is this a celebration lunch?’

      It was silly to feel hurt still; she said cheerfully: ‘Oh, no—it’s my youngest stepsister’s birthday.’ She had expected him to wish her goodbye when they reached the hotel again; they had walked round to the newer side of the old place, Regency and charming with its wide windows and doors and borders of spring flowers. They went in through the open drawing room door together and found her stepmother and sisters and Mr and Mrs Pierce standing there, watching them from the French window, and Philomena, who had been enjoying herself more than she could have supposed in the doctor’s company, took a sideways look at his face and felt her pleasure ebb; he had caught sight of Chloe and Miriam and was reacting just as all the other men, old and young, did. And she couldn’t blame him; they looked quite lovely; their vivid, dark beauty set off exactly by the clothes they were wearing, their lovely faces delicately made up. She felt a thrill of pride at the sight of them, mixed with regret that she couldn’t, just for a day, be as breathtakingly lovely.

      It was her stepmother who spoke first. ‘Darling, we wondered where you were—we were getting quite anxious.’ An absurd remark considering she had herself told Philomena to meet them there at the hotel, but nicely calculated, thought Philomena, to give a motherly and loving impression. And I’m growing to be pretty mean, she told herself, and smiled with extra warmth to make up for it.

      ‘Sorry, dears—I went down to have a look at the river. I met Doctor van der Tacx there—he’s been at Faith’s. Mother…’ She made the introductions with an unconscious charm and felt wry amusement at Chloe’s and Miriam’s instant reactions. They were used to men finding them attractive and normally they didn’t pay much attention to them, accepting their admiration as their due, but in the doctor they saw someone rather different. Any girl would be more than delighted to have him dancing attendance. Philomena, exchanging small talk with Mr and Mrs Pierce, heard Miriam inviting him to the party and Chloe chiming in asking him to join them at lunch.

      She supposed it was mean of her to be pleased when he declined lunch, even a drink, pleading a previous engagement, but her pleasure was short-lived because her stepmother added her own persuasive voice to Miriam’s and before he left them he had promised to come to the party that evening. His goodbyes were made a few minutes later. His manners were nice, thought Philomena, although he might have offered her rather more than the casual nod he gave her. Although, come to think of it, why should he when Chloe and Miriam were there to distract him from anyone and anything else?

      During lunch she was questioned a good deal about him in a good-natured fashion. ‘Did he know that you were here?’ asked Chloe.

      Philomena shook her head. ‘No, it was pure chance—someone told him the Priory was a splendid place to stay at and so he came here.’

      ‘And of course,’ remarked her stepmother with unintentional cruelty, ‘you