Henrietta's Own Castle. Betty Neels

       He glanced down at the papers in his hand. ‘That is quite possible of course. I do not know how you are placed financially, Miss Brodie, but as far as we can calculate at the moment, your aunt left only a small sum of money—about six hundred pounds—which will be advanced to you should you require it.’

       It sounded a great deal, even in these days; if she were careful she would be able to live there, if she liked it, for quite a long time; there would be no rent and if she were desperate at the end of that time she could always get herself a job and let the house besides. ‘Are there any extras to pay?’ she wanted to know. ‘Rates and things like that,’ she added vaguely.

       Mr Boggett consulted his papers once more. ‘Certainly, but the village is rural and the rates are low, I imagine that an outlay of fifty pounds or so annually would cover them.’

       Henrietta was doing rapid sums in her head. She had a little money saved, she was young and strong and could get a job whenever she needed one. She drew a breath and smiled at the old man. ‘You know, I think I’ll arrange to go over and stay there for a while—if I like it very much perhaps I could stay—you see, there’s nothing to keep me here.’

       He nodded in agreement. ‘I believe your decision would have made your aunt very happy.’ He took off his glasses and polished them. ‘It is a long time since I last saw Miss Brodie, she went to live in Holland many years ago now, but she always wrote charming letters.’ He coughed. ‘I shall be happy to help you in any way, Miss Brodie. The estate is a small one and once we have arranged things with the Dutch authorities and so forth, it should be a simple matter to clear the matter up within a few weeks. Perhaps you will let me know when you wish to go and I will do my best to have everything in order by then. The money is in Holland, naturally. I take it that you would wish it to be left where it is, in the bank.’

       ‘Oh, please. I’ll be able to get it out?’

       ‘Yes, I will arrange for you to have a letter to present to the manager. You are unacquainted with the Dutch language?’

       ‘I daresay there’ll be someone there who speaks English? I expect I’ll pick up enough Dutch to get by once I’m there.’ She paused. ‘I suppose my aunt didn’t leave me a letter, or—or anything?’

       ‘I’m afraid not. She had seen you only once or twice, I believe, when you were a baby, but she seems to have retained an affection for you. Blood,’ observed Mr Boggett, ‘is thicker than water.’

       Perhaps her aunt had been glad to have someone to whom she could leave her home; it struck Henrietta with some force that she herself had no one.

       Too excited to drink more than a cup of coffee, she took an extravagant taxi back to St Clement’s and went at once to see Miss Brice. It was unusual for anyone to demand an interview at such short notice; the Admin. Sisters, sitting at their desks in the outer office, tried to fob her off with an appointment for the next day, but Henrietta, uplifted by the knowledge that she was now a woman of property, however small, and had means of her own, even smaller, refused to be put off. She walked into Miss Brice’s office, feeling a little topheavy with excitement and looking twice as pretty as she normally did because of it.

       Miss Brice blinked at her Ward Sister’s blinding good looks, wishing to herself that she could look the same, and inquired as to the reason for Henrietta’s urgency. She listened while it was explained to her and only when it was finished did she say: ‘You appear to have made up your mind rather quickly, Sister. You are quite sure about it? You have a splendid job here with a good chance of promotion later on, and forgive me for saying so, but you tell me that you have no relatives, and in such circumstances surely it would be better for you to remain in secure employment?’

       ‘I’ve been in secure employment since I started nursing, ten years ago,’ Henrietta reminded her. ‘Ten years,’ she repeated with faint bitterness, ‘and I’ve not so much as gone on a day trip to Boulogne. I do not wish to be secure, Miss Brice.’

       Miss Brice looked startled. ‘Well—I really don’t know what to say, Sister Brodie. I certainly can’t prevent you from doing something you wish to do. You say that you have two weeks’ holiday left from this year? Supposing you take those and let me know your decision during that period? You will, of course, have to forfeit your salary if you leave on those terms, and I hope that you will allow a reasonable time to elapse before taking your holiday.’

       Henrietta was on her feet. ‘Would a month be long enough?’ she asked. ‘If I could have my holiday in one month’s time and then let you know about leaving—I shall know more about it by then.’

       Miss Brice could lose gracefully when she had to. ‘That will suit me very well, Sister. If you do decide to give up your post you do realize that I shall fill it immediately? If you should, at some future date, apply for a post here, I shall always be pleased to consider you for it, though I must warn you that it might not be exactly what you wished for.’ She bowed her elegantly capped head in dismissal, and Henrietta, with a suitable murmur, almost danced from the room.

       She went on duty looking much as usual. Certainly her manner was as calm and assured as it always was, only her fine eyes sparkled whenever she allowed herself to think of her changed future, but in the Sisters’ sitting room at tea time, she told her news to those of her friends who were sharing tea and buttered toast round the electric fire, and it was received with gratifying surprise and a good deal of speculation as well as instant requests to be invited to stay, and unlike Miss Brice, they agreed wholeheartedly that in her shoes they would have done exactly the same thing. ‘And probably,’ said a voice, ‘Miss Brice would have done the same if she’d been twenty years younger,’ a remark which gave rise to a short pause while everyone there thought how awful it must be to be as old as Miss Brice; fifty if she was a day.

       ‘How are you going, and when?’ asked some-one else.

       ‘Well, I haven’t a clue at the moment how to go,’ said Henrietta thoughtfully, ‘though I shall take Charlie.’ A very old Mini bought from one of the housemen three years previously, it had been second-hand then, and the man at the garage assured her each time she went for petrol that it was a miracle that Charlie went at all. ‘At least he’ll get me there,’ she added.

       Whereupon they fell to discussing just what she would need to take with her and became so absorbed in this engrossing subject that they forgot the time and went back to the wards a little late.

       The month went quickly; there was a lot to see to—passport, visits to Mr Boggett, Charlie to be overhauled, her few friends to be bidden a temporary farewell—and the ward was extra busy too, so that she was tired enough to sleep soundly each night and not lie awake wondering if she had been rash, exchanging a steady, safe life for an unknown one. True, she had read up a great deal about Holland, she knew exactly where the village of Gijzelmortel lay, even though she hadn’t an idea how to pronounce it, and she had bought a phrase book which she hoped would get her over the first few weeks. She had drawn some of her savings from the bank too, for it seemed logical that if she were going to change her life, she should change her wardrobe too. She bought a tweed suit in a pleasing shade of brown which went very well with her last year’s coat and she bought, amongst other things, a pair of sensible lined boots. They struck her as unfashionable, but if it were cold—and there was, after all, a good deal of winter left—she might be glad of them; the guide book had said that it could be cold in Holland and that skating was a national pastime, which led her to believe that there might be degrees of coldness, for it wasn’t a national pastime in England.

       The guide book also advised the taking of cosmetics just in case one couldn’t buy that particular brand, so she stocked up lavishly and had her collection topped by a large bottle of Dioressence given to her by her friends. And being a practical girl she packed candles and matches and a powerful torch and enough food to keep her going for a day or so. Presumably there would be a village shop, and she would have Charlie, if he was still on his wheels, to take her to the neighbouring towns. She wondered uneasily about garages, but surely every village had one these days—anyway, she mustn’t start crossing her bridges until she came to them.