her work although she wished it could have been conducted in a clearer atmosphere than the surgery, redolent of damp coats and the earthy smells clinging to farm workers who came in straight from their work. But she had found her sensible feet by now and she was happy despite the doctor’s chilly politeness towards her. At least she saw him each day and sooner or later he would stop comparing her with Miss Brimble and decide that she was quite nice, really…
And, Matilda being Matilda, she already had a few plans. A potted plant for the waiting room, a small vase of flowers for the doctor’s desk, a chamber pot for the small children—she wondered why Miss Brimble hadn’t thought of that—and some container where people could put their dripping umbrellas. There were still a lot of odds and ends her mother had consigned to the garden shed; there might be something suitable there…
After the first morning she had politely refused coffee after the morning surgery, standing by his desk, listening to whatever it was he needed to tell her and then bidding him a cheerful good morning, shutting the door quietly behind her.
There was no point in sitting there drinking coffee when he was so obviously unaware of her. She would then tidy the waiting room, lock up and go home.
There was an envelope on her desk on Friday morning. She had asked at her interview if she could be paid each week and in cash, and he had agreed without comment. She put it in her handbag and bade the first patient good morning. Her father had taught her that money was no easy path to happiness but she couldn’t help feeling rich…
There was a small branch of her father’s bank in the village, open on three days a week for a few hours. Matilda paid most of the money into his account, bought sausages from Mrs Simpkins and went home, treading on air.
There was a car parked outside the gate when she reached it: an elderly Rover, immaculately kept. It belonged to the Reverend Mr Milton and she was pleased to see it for it meant that that gentleman had come to visit her parents. He had called briefly a day or so after they had moved in but the place had been in chaos and he hadn’t stayed.
He was in the living room and his wife was with him. Mrs Milton was a small, placid lady with a kind face, and according to Mrs Simpkins was very well liked in the village.
Matilda shook hands and, bidden by her mother, went to fetch more coffee, sorry that she hadn’t brought some biscuits with her. She handed around second cups and sat down to answer Mrs Milton’s gentle questions.
She liked her job with Dr Lovell? Such a dear, good man but very overworked; so fortunate that he had found Matilda to replace Miss Brimble. And did Matilda play tennis? In the summer there was a flourishing club—and amateur theatricals in the winter. ‘You must meet some of the younger ones here,’ said Mrs Milton.
Mrs Paige interrupted her in the nicest possible way. ‘Matilda isn’t a very sociable girl,’ she said. ‘Quite a homebird in fact, which is so fortunate for I’m not very strong and all the worry of my husband’s illness has upset my nerves.’
Mrs Milton said that she was sorry to hear it. ‘I was hoping you would enjoy meeting a few people here and perhaps join me on one or two of our committees. We do a good deal for charity in a quiet way. And the Mother’s Union flourishes. Lady Truscott is our president and we meet each month at her house. The Manor, you know…’
‘I shall be delighted to do that and give what help I can.’ Mrs Paige had become quite animated. ‘And anything else that I can do in my small way.’ She gave a rueful little laugh. ‘This is all so strange. And I do miss the house—and the social life attached to the church. And, of course, the ease with which one could obtain things. It seems I must go all the way to Taunton to a hairdresser.’
‘There’s Miss Wright in the village; she is really not at all bad. I must confess that I go to Tessa’s in Taunton. If you would like it I’ll give you her phone number and if you mention my name I’m sure she will fit you in.’
‘That’s most kind. It would have to be on the day the bus goes to Taunton; I’m told that there is one.’
‘You don’t drive?’
‘No, unfortunately not, and, of course, Jeffrey isn’t allowed to, so we sold the car.’
Mrs Milton turned to Matilda. ‘You don’t drive, my dear?’
Matilda just had time to say yes, before her mother said quickly, ‘There seemed no point in keeping the car just for Matilda’s use. She enjoys walking and there is a bicycle she can use.’
‘In that case,’ said Mrs Milton, ‘I’ll be glad to offer you a lift the next time I go to Taunton. Matilda, too…’
‘One of us has to stay home just in case Jeffrey isn’t well, but I’d be glad of a lift; it’s most kind of you to offer. Perhaps I could fit it in with the hairdresser and have time for a quick shop. I’m sure the shop in the village is excellent but there are several things I need which I’m sure aren’t stocked there.’
‘We will arrange something soon and I’ll let you know about joining our committee.’ Mrs Milton got to her feet. ‘I’m glad you have come here to live and I’m sure you will be happy once you have settled in.’
She caught her husband’s eye and he rose reluctantly from the earnest talk he was enjoying with Mr Paige. Goodbyes were said and Matilda saw them out of the gate and into their car, waving them away with a friendly hand.
‘A very nice girl,’ said Mrs Milton, ‘but I don’t imagine she has much of a life. Her mother…’
‘Now, my dear, don’t be too hasty in your judgement, although I do see what you mean. We must endeavour to find Matilda some friends.’
‘I wonder how she gets on with Henry?’
‘Presumably well enough; I don’t imagine he’s a hard taskmaster. Once they have got used to each other I’m sure she will prove every bit as efficient as Miss Brimble.’
Which wasn’t what Mrs Milton had meant at all, although she didn’t say so.
Mrs Paige followed Matilda into the kitchen. ‘Did you get paid?’
Matilda stacked cups and saucers by the sink. ‘Yes, Mother.’
‘Good. If Mrs Milton phones I can go to Taunton. I need one or two things as well as having my hair done. If you’d let me have twenty-five pounds? You must see that if I’m to meet all these women I must look my best, and you’ll have the rest of your money…’
‘I’ve paid it into Father’s account at the bank.’
‘Matilda—are you out of your mind? His pension will be paid in in a week or so and we can open an account at the shop.’
‘There’s a gas bill overdue and the plumber to be paid…’
Mrs Paige said tearfully, ‘I can’t believe that my own daughter could be so mean.’ She started to cry. ‘I hate it here; can’t you understand that? This poky little house and no shops and nothing to do all day. There was always something at the vicarage—people calling, wanting advice or help; things happening.’ She added, ‘Of course you don’t care; I don’t suppose you miss your friends and it isn’t as if there were any men keen on you. It’s just as well, for I doubt if you’ll meet anyone here who’ll want to marry you.’
Matilda said quietly, ‘No, I don’t suppose I will. I’m sorry you’re unhappy, Mother, but perhaps you will meet some people you will like when you see Mrs Milton again.’
She took some notes out of her handbag. ‘Here is twenty-five pounds.’ She laid the money on the table. ‘I’ll get lunch, shall I?’
Her mother said something but she didn’t hear it, for she was fighting a strong wish to run out of the house, go somewhere where she wasn’t reminded that she was dull and plain and mean. Life would have been so different if she had been pretty…
She gave herself a shake. Self-pity was a waste of