The Chain of Destiny by Betty Neels Page B

people come from.’ And at Suzannah’s puzzled look, ‘People with brain tumours, my dear. And of course dear Guyis so clever, he knows exactly what to do…’ She drew a sharp breath. ‘My dear child, I am so sorry, for the moment I forgot that your aunt…’
    Suzannah said composedly, ‘It’s quite all right, Mrs van Bueck, there was nothing to be done for my aunt; Professor Bowers-Bentinck examined her most carefully and was kindness itself.’
    Quite a different man to the visitor she had had that afternoon. She supposed that she must annoy him in some way, certainly he needled her into being rude. Aunt Mabel would have been vexed; so, too, would her two companions if they could hear her!
    She sat listening with half an ear to the two ladies’ gentle chatter. ‘I cannot believe that the dear boy will be thirty-five next week,’ observed Lady Manbrook. ‘It seems only the other day he and his dear parents were here on a visit—while he was at Marlborough, was it not? Such a pity they haven’t lived to see him achieve fame in the medical world. And so modest, too; never an unkind word.’
    Obviously, thought Suzannah, there was a side to the professor which she had failed to discover.
    And not likely to either; another week went by with no sign of him—and why should there be? she argued to herself. He was a busy man and his work kept him in London. She was almost at the end of her cataloguing by now; another four or five days and she would be finished. She was too honest to spin it out for a few more days, but she was sorely tempted, for she had had no replies to the advertisements she had answered.
    She resisted the temptation, arranged the last of the letters in a neat pile beside everything else and went to tell Lady Manbrook that four more days’ work would suffice to tidy everything away once more.
    That lady looked surprised. ‘Already, my dear? How very quick you have been. You will need a day or so to clear up your own things, of course, and make arrangements. Croft will drive you back…’ She paused. ‘Where to, Suzannah? Is not someone living in your former home?’
    â€˜Mrs Coffin will give me a room until I go to another job, Lady Manbrook.’
    â€˜Ah, yes, of course. I’m sure you must be much in demand.’
    Suzannah hoped that she would be, too. But the last day came with nothing in the post for her, so she stowed Horace in his basket, packed the geranium carefully, wished the two old ladies goodbye, made her farewells in the kitchen and then got into the car beside Croft. Mrs Coffin had sent her a cheerful letter, happily agreeing to let her have a room for as long as she would need one; all the same, Suzannah’s heart sank as Croft drove her away from what had seemed to her to be a haven of security. True, she had saved almost all her wages, but they weren’t going to go far…
    Mrs Coffin welcomed her with genuine pleasure, and over high tea, eaten after the shop was closed for the day, listened with sympathy to Suzannah’s doubts about the future.
    â€˜Don’t worry, love,’ she said in her comfortable voice, ‘something’ll turn up, and you’re welcome to stay here just as long as you want to.’
    She patted Suzannah’s hand over the table and went on, ‘Now tell me all about your job? Was it interesting? Did you meet anyone nice?’
    She meant young men, of course. ‘No, but I’ll tell you who I met, and I was surprised. That professor who came to see Aunt Mabel when she was so ill…’ Hervoice faltered for a moment. ‘He’s Lady Manbrook’s nephew or something.’
    â€˜That was nice, dear…’
    â€˜Not really. He doesn’t like me, you know, and he asked a lot of questions!’
    â€˜Did he, now? I do hear from the housekeeper at the manor that Miss Phoebe’s in a rare bad temper these days.