you get a day to yourself each week. Bring your car over if you like so that you can get around.’
‘Thank you. I can’t speak a word of Dutch.’
‘You’ll soon pick it up,’ he dismissed that airily, ‘and you’ll be dealing with my English correspondence.’
‘Yes, but does your little girl speak English?’
‘After a fashion. I’d be glad if you’d speak nothing but your own language with her.’
‘And what else would you want me to do?’
‘Be a Girl Friday, or if that’s too frivolous for you, a Universal Aunt.’
Prudence frowned; she might be removed from her first youth, but she felt that she was hardly eligible to be something as staid as a Universal Aunt. ‘I think a household assistant sounds better,’ she observed coldly.
‘Whatever you like,’ agreed Benedict suavely, ‘but I shall continue to call you Prudence.’
‘Shall I have to call you Dr van Vinke?’
‘I think it might be a good idea if you’re taking letters or if there are patients present, don’t you?’
They were almost back at the flat and he slowed his steps. ‘Would you like me to come down and see your parents? They don’t know me, only as James’ friend…’
‘That would be kind if you can spare the time.’
‘I’ll give you a ring. Now as to salary—how about seventy pounds a week—or the equivalent in gulden?’
‘That’s far too much!’ Prudence was quite shocked.
‘Wait until you’ve worked for a couple of weeks before you say that,’ he counselled. ‘I shall expect value for my money.’
She wasn’t sure if she liked that. She said stiffly: ‘I shall do my best.’
And that seemed to be the end of it, for the time being at least. Over lunch he and James argued good-naturedly as to the best route for her to take and before he went he remarked casually that he would let her know more when he next saw her at Little Amwell. His goodbye was casual in the extreme.
He arrived at Little Amwell four days later, which gave Prudence time to tell her parents what she intended doing and allowed them to recover from the shock, although she rather suspected that they weren’t unduly upset about her broken engagement. It was, of course, a little awkward having to tell people, but luckily in a village the size of Little Amwell news travelled fast if not always with accuracy. Mabel was told as befitted an old friend, but it wasn’t until Mrs Pett, who ran the general stores and Post Office, made a coy reference to Tony’s absence that Prudence observed flatly that she was no longer engaged and was on the point of taking a job. Mrs Pett’s rather bulbous eyes almost popped from her head. ‘My dear soul—and after all this long time, too!’
‘Almost four years,’ Prudence reminded her, and looked pointedly at the list of groceries she had to buy. ‘I’d better have tasty cheese, Mrs Pett,’—she only sold two kinds, tasty and mild, ‘I should think half a pound would do.’
Mrs Pett dealt with the cheese. ‘So you’re going away, Miss Prudence—you’ll be missed.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Pett.’ Prudence wasn’t going to be drawn into details; no doubt Mrs Pett would invent those when she passed on the news. She finished her shopping and went back home and spent the rest of the morning going through her wardrobe, deciding what she should take with her. She must remember to ask Benedict what the weather was like in Holland and should she take winter clothes as well or would she be able to come home and collect them later, if she stayed. She might not be suitable—his small daughter might not like her, her shorthand might not stand up to dictation. She had the sneaking feeling that Benedict, placid and friendly as he was, might present quite a different aspect once he got back to his own home and took up a busy routine again. It was a sobering thought, and she spent most of the next day taking down imaginary letters and typing them back not always as successfully as she could wish. Still, she told herself, if she was to look after the little girl and help around the house, there wouldn’t be all that time to do his correspondence, and anyway, he couldn’t have all that much in English. The thought cheered her so that she flung her notebook down and took Podge the elderly spaniel for an extra long walk.
When she got home there was an Aston Martin Volante outside the front door, dark blue, elegant and powerful. She and Podge circled it slowly before she went indoors, admiring it. ‘Very expensive,’ said Prudence to the dog, ‘and fast—it must drink petrol like I drink tea!’
In the sitting room her mother and father were entertaining Benedict, but they stopped talking as she went in. She greeted him unselfconsciously, adding: ‘What a nice car you’ve got—I didn’t know that you had one over here.’
‘James drove me down for the wedding and I don’t always use it in London. It gets me around, though.’
‘So I should imagine.’ Prudence looked at her mother. ‘I’ll help Mabel with tea, shall I?’ She turned to Benedict. ‘Are you staying the night?’
‘Your mother kindly suggested it, but I can’t—I’m on my way to Bristol. But tea would be delightful.’ He smiled as he spoke and she remembered the last time they had had tea together and went a little pink.
‘I’ll get it,’ she said to no one in particular.
Over tea Benedict enlarged upon her duties, more for the benefit of her parents than herself, she suspected; he also detailed her journey. ‘I’m going home in a couple of days’ time, perhaps you could follow—let’s see—would Friday suit you? That gets you to Appeldoorn on Saturday, which will give you the weekend in which to find your way around and get to know Sitske, my housekeeper—her husband’s the gardener and odd job man. I believe they’re known as married couples over here—and of course Sibella, she knows you’re coming to live with us, but I warn you she’s quite a handful. I spend as much time with her as I can, but not as much as I should like. I’m sure you’ll fill a much-needed gap for her.’
‘Prudence has a way with children,’ declared Mrs Trent comfortably. ‘If she can keep the Sunday School class in order she can certainly cope with one little girl. I think—we both think—that it will be very nice for Prudence to go away for a while and earn her living—it’s quiet here; that didn’t matter when she expected to marry, but now it’s a chance for her to be independent. How providential that you happened to need someone, Benedict.’
He agreed gravely. ‘And how fortunate that I have found Prudence.’
He got up to go presently, bidding them quiet goodbyes, adding that he would see Prudence on the following Saturday.
She went with him to the door, where he paused for a moment. ‘I’ll see you get your tickets in good time,’ he promised, and before she could say anything, had got into the Aston Martin and zoomed away.
Prudence watched the car turn out of the short drive and go down the village street. She was a good driver herself; she thoroughly approved of the lack of fuss with which he had handled the big car. Tony, she remembered, could never just get in and drive off; things had to be adjusted, knobs turned, lights tested, windows wound up or down, she hadn’t realised until now how that had irritated her. She thought that on the whole she was going to like working for Benedict. Of course, she didn’t know him; he might be a tyrant in his own home, although she didn’t think so.
She wandered back to the sitting room, wishing vaguely that he had told her more about himself, for in fact he had told her very little. He was a widower, she knew that, and she wondered how long he had been without a wife. Perhaps he had told her father. She found the chance to ask him during the evening, and for some reason felt relief when she heard that his wife had died soon after his daughter was born. ‘Very sad,’ observed her father, and she agreed sincerely; it was very sad.
‘He should marry