It was two days later when the washing machine arrived, and she had barely got over her delighted surprise at that when someone came to install the telephone with an extension in the dining room so that Mr Trentham could use it without having to move from his desk. It was becoming increasingly apparent to her that his work was very important to him; he made desultory conversation during their meals together and he regarded her with a kind of lazy good humour, but for the rest she was a cog in smooth-running machinery which engineered his comfort.
At the end of a week she knew nothing more about him and he in his turn evinced no interest whatever in herself. On Sunday she had been considerably surprised when he had accompanied her to church and after the service allowed her to introduce him to Mr Frobisher, who in turn introduced him to the Durrants from the Manor House. They bore him off for drinks, and Mrs Durrant bestowed a kindly nod upon Sadie as they went. She hadn’t meant to be patronising, Sadie told herself as she went back to the cottage. She got the lunch ready and sat down to wait. After an hour Mrs Durrant rang up to say that Mr Trentham was staying there for lunch, so Sadie drank her coffee and made a scrambled egg on toast for herself, fed Tom and got into her old coat, tied a scarf round her hair and went for a walk.
It had turned much colder and the rain had stopped at last. She crunched over the frosty ground, finding plenty to think about. She had been paid a month’s salary the evening before and she intended to spend most of it on clothes. She climbed the hill briskly, her head full of tweed coats, pleated skirts, slacks and woolly jumpers. She wouldn’t be able to get them all at once, of course, and after those would come shoes and undies and at least one pretty dress. She had no idea when she would wear it, but it would be nice to have it hanging in the wardrobe. Besides, there was Christmas. She hadn’t been able to accept any invitations for the last two Christmases because of Granny being an invalid, but perhaps this year she would be free for at least part of the holiday. She frowned as she thought that possibly Mr Trentham would go home to his other house for Christmas and New Year too; he’d want to be with his family and he must have loads of friends in London, in which case she would be on her own.
There was a biting wind blowing when she reached the top of the hill, and she turned and walked back again in the gathering dusk. There were no lights on, the cottage was in darkness; Mr Trentham would be staying at the Manor for tea. Sadie let herself in quietly, took off her coat and went into the kitchen to put on the kettle. Mr Trentham was asleep in the comfortable shabby old chair by the stove with Tom on his knee. He opened his eyes when she switched on the light and said at once: ‘Where have you been? I wanted to talk to you and you weren’t here.’
‘I go for a walk every afternoon,’ she reminded him. ‘I thought you might be staying at the Durrants’ for tea. It’s almost tea time, I’ll get it now if you would like me to.’
He nodded. ‘And can we have it here?’
She didn’t show her surprise. ‘Yes, of course.’ She put a cloth on the table and fetched the chocolate cake she had made the day before and began to cut bread and butter, a plateful thinly sliced and arranged neatly.
‘You’d better go into Bridport and buy yourself some clothes,’ said Mr Trentham suddenly. ‘Better still, I’ll drive you to a town where there are more shops. Let’s see—how about Bath?’
Sadie warmed the teapot. ‘That would be heavenly, but you don’t need to drive me there, Mr Trentham, I can get a bus to Taunton or Dorchester.’
‘I have a fancy to go to Bath, Sadie. When did you last buy clothes?’
She blushed. ‘Well, not for quite a long while, you see, Granny couldn’t go out, so there wasn’t any need…’
‘Nor any money,’ he finished blandly. ‘I must buy the girls Christmas presents and I shall need your advice.’
‘How old are they?’
‘Five and seven years old—Anna and Julie. They have a governess, Miss Murch. Could you cope with the three of them over Christmas?’
Sadie didn’t stop to think about it. ‘Yes, of course. Only you’ll need to buy another bed—would the little girls mind sleeping in the same room?’
‘I imagine not, they share a room at Highgate. What else shall we need?’
She poured the tea and offered him the plate of bread and butter. ‘That’s blackcurrant jam,’ she told him. ‘Well, a Christmas tree and fairy lights and decorations and paper chains.’ She was so absorbed that she didn’t see the amusement on his face. ‘A turkey and all the things that go with it—I’ll be making the puddings myself, and a cake, of course, and crackers and mince pies and sausage rolls…’ She glanced at him. ‘The children will expect all that.’
‘Will they? I was in America last Christmas; I believe Miss Murch took them to a hotel.’ He smiled a little and she saw the mockery there. ‘Don’t look so shocked, Sadie, I suspect that you’re a little out of date.’
She shook her head. ‘You can’t be out of date over Christmas. Even when there’s not much money it can still be magic…’
He passed her the cake and took a slice himself. ‘You’re so sure, aren’t you? Shall we give it a whirl, then? Buy what you want and leave the bills to me.’
‘Yes, Mr Trentham—only you are sure, aren’t you? The country is very quiet—I mean, in the town—London—there’s always so much to do, I imagine, and there’s nothing here. The Carol Service, and a party for the children and perhaps a few friends coming in.’
‘I’m quite sure, Sadie, and it will be something quite different for the children. Now when shall we go to Bath?’
‘Well, I’d like to get the washing done tomorrow…we could go on Tuesday. Do you want to buy the girls’ presents then?’
‘Certainly, though I have no idea what to get—I believe they have everything.’
She began to clear away the tea things. ‘Do they like dolls?’
‘Yes, I’m sure they do.’ He sounded impatient and when he got out of the chair she said quietly: ‘Supper will be about half past seven, Mr Trentham, if that suits you?’
He gave a grunting reply and a minute later she heard the typewriter. He was, she decided, a glutton for work.
It was cold and bright and frosty on Tuesday, and leaving Tom in charge curled up by the fire, they set out directly after breakfast. Sadie had on her best coat, bought several years earlier more with an eye to its warmth and durability than its fashion. She wore her hat too, a plain felt of the same mouse brown as the coat. Mr Trentham glanced at her and then away again quickly. The women he took out were smart, exquisitely turned out and very expensive. There was only one word for Sadie and that was dowdy. He felt suddenly very sorry for her, and then, taking another quick glance at her happy young face, realised that his pity was quite wasted.
They parked the car in the multi-storey car park and walked the short distance to the centre of the city, but before Sadie was allowed to look at shop windows they had coffee in an olde-worlde coffee shop near the Abbey, and only when they had done that did they start their shopping.
Sadie had supposed that he would arrange to meet her for lunch and go off on his own, but he showed no sign of doing this, instead he led the way towards Milsom Street shopping precinct where all the better shops were. ‘Blue or green,’ he told her, examining the models in the windows, ‘and don’t buy a hat, get a beret. How much money have you?’
She didn’t mind him being so dictatorial, it was like being taken out by an elder brother, she supposed. ‘Well, the salary you gave me, and I’ve some money in the bank…’
‘How much?’
‘Mr Banks isn’t quite sure, but at least two hundred pounds.’ She looked at him enquiringly.