‘Clever girl. I’ll do your hair when I’ve seen to Deirdre.’
Breakfast, though noisy, was eaten in a friendly atmosphere, and as soon as it was finished the twins were collected by someone they called Aunty Doris and driven off to school, leaving Deborah to bath and dress Dee, put her in her pram and wheel it round to the back of the house into a sheltered corner while she nipped back indoors to make beds and tidy the nurseries.
Mary, watching her put a load of small garments into the washing machine, approved of her. ‘Plain she may be,’ she confided to Mrs Twist, ‘but she’s a lady, if you know what I mean, and the twins mind her as much as they mind anyone. Sitting there, telling them in that soft voice of hers to eat their breakfast and so sure she was they did too, like lambs! Pity we can’t have her here permanent like.’
The twins returned with a great deal of untapped energy; Deborah combing hair and inspecting hands, decided that a walk was essential after their dinner. She left the twins playing while she saw to the baby and then, with the infant tucked up in the pram and the children armed with small baskets in case they found any blackberries, set out.
They went through the village, stopping at the stores to buy sweets and then took a lane beyond the last of the houses. It led uphill and gave them a view of rolling countryside when they reached the top. Deborah, hot from pushing the pram, sighed with relief to find a splendid hedge of blackberries, an excuse to find a shady spot for the pram and join the twins.
They got home in time for tea, nicely tired and went happily to bed after they had talked to their mother on the phone. There was no change in her mother’s condition, Mrs Burns told Deborah, and she asked if everything was all right at home. Deborah said that everything was fine, that the children had been as good as gold and that Deirdre was a model baby, and would Mrs Burns like to talk to Mary?
A diplomatic gesture which earned her a pleased look, for Mary was delighted.
The next day followed the same pattern as the first, pleasant but filled with the many chores which went with three children. Deborah phoned her mother in the evening, assured her that she was completely happy and not in the least overworked and then went to bed early. The children had been very good, she thought sleepily as she curled up comfortably, and tomorrow there would be a respite because they were going to a friend’s birthday party at the other end of the village. She would take them there, with Dee in the pram and then go back and have tea in the garden. Mary would be going to her wedding in the morning and once Mrs Twist had gone she would have the house to herself. Only for an hour or two but it would be a small pleasure to look forward to.
They had their dinner earlier than usual so that Mrs Twist could wash up the dishes before she went home. Deborah coaxed the children into fresh clothes, fed the baby and set off with her little party. There was a good deal of noise coming from the house as they approached it; the windows were wide open and there was a CD player belting out the latest pop music. Deborah handed the twins over to a rather harassed woman at the door, promised to collect them at six o’clock, and went off with the pram and the sleeping Deirdre. Simon had muttered a gruff goodbye as they went, but Suzanne had flung her arms round Deborah’s neck and hugged her.
It was a glorious day; Deborah strolled along admiring the view, talking from time to time to Deirdre who chuckled and crowed and then dropped off to sleep. She was still sleeping when Deborah reached the house unlocked the door and carried her inside to finish her nap in her cot.
It was early for tea, but the prospect of half an hour in the garden under the open window of the nursery was very tempting. Deborah crossed the hall to go to the kitchen and put on the kettle and presently took her tray on to the patio under the nursery window. She could have spent the rest of the day there but the twins had to be fetched and Deirdre put back into her pram. Deborah whisked round the kitchen, getting things ready for the twins’ supper; she could feed the baby while they ate it. It was still pleasantly warm as she went unhurriedly through the village, collected the twins and walked them back smartly. They were over excited, over tired and peevish. The next hour or so tried her patience and her temper, but at last they were all sleeping and she took off her apron, pushed the hair back from her hot face and went downstairs. Mary wouldn’t be back until late and she had a key, mused Deborah, her mind pleasantly occupied with supper and the thought of an early night with a book as she reached the hall and started towards the kitchen. She was half-way there when the bell pealed, quite gently and only once. Not Mary, she would have let herself in, not any of Mrs Burns’ friends; they knew she was away—her husband? Deborah, who had a romantic mind, pictured him hot footing it half-way round the world to be with his wife and children as she went to the door and opened it.
Not Mrs Burns’ husband; she had seen a wedding photo, he was dark and not much above middle-height and had a moustache, the man on the doorstep was twice as tall and wide. Well, even allowing for exaggeration he was a very large man and solid with it. Besides, he had iron grey hair, bright blue eyes and no moustache. She said enquiringly, ‘Yes,’ in a severe voice, while a host of unpleasant ideas about thieves and robbers and kidnappers seeped into her head.
‘My God,’ observed the man softly, ‘I thought the species was extinct.’ And when she looked nonplussed, ‘Nannies,’ he explained kindly, ‘that’s what you are, isn’t it? I thought you worthy aproned ladies had been swallowed whole by the au pair girls.’
Not only probably a thief thought Deborah, a trifle wildly, but also mentally unstable. ‘Be good enough to go away,’ she said in the firm no-nonsense voice she had been taught to use at the training college.
He leaned his elegantly clad person against the door frame and said equably: ‘I haven’t had a nanny for a long time; I never obeyed her anyway. I’m coming in.’
‘You are not!’ The two little terrors and baby Deirdre suddenly became very precious; he didn’t know they were in the house, of course, but once inside he might go anywhere.
He changed his tactics. ‘This is Peggy Burns’ house?’
She nodded.
‘Good, so I’ll come in…’
‘I don’t know who you are,’ she protested.
‘I don’t happen to have my birth certificate with me, would a passport do?’ He was amused still but impatient now. ‘You’re alone in the house?’
She didn’t answer and he tried again. ‘Is Mrs Burns at home?’
‘No.’
‘Chatty little thing, aren’t you? Where is she?’
Deborah was standing squarely in the doorway her small, rather plump person by no means filling it. ‘At her mother’s house.’
She watched his face change to become serious. ‘Is she ill?’
‘Her mother? Yes. Mrs Burns went yesterday—no the day before that. Now will you please go away?’
For answer she felt two large hands clasp her waist and she was lifted gently aside as he went past her and into the sitting room, where he picked up the phone. She closed the door and went after him, watching while he dialled a number, staring at the wall in front of him. He was a good looking man, in his mid-thirties perhaps. She wondered who he was; if he was an intruder she couldn’t do much about it now, but he looked different suddenly, serious and worried, his voice was different too, no longer casual and so amused. He got the number and asked for Mrs Burns and then said: ‘Peggy? what’s wrong? I got back a couple of days early and came to see you. There’s a small gorgon here, defending your children with her life’s blood…’
He stood listening while Peggy talked. ‘I’m coming over right away. No I didn’t get your cable—I’d already left. I’ll be with you in a couple of hours, maybe a good deal less.’
He listened again and turned to look at Deborah. ‘Coping very well, I should have said; starched backbone and a mouth like a rat