Year's Happy Ending. Бетти Нилс

they would tell her that she wasn’t needed any more. It seemed more than likely when Mr Burns said over his shoulder as they stopped before the door: ‘Nanny, I’d like to talk to you sometime. Tomorrow? Or perhaps this evening when you have some time to yourself?’ He smiled at her kindly. ‘After dinner if that suits you.’

      She agreed calmly, already composing a letter to the agency in her head as she bore Dee off to the nursery and bedtime.

      CHAPTER THREE

      DEBORAH HAD imagined that she would be summoned to the study during the evening, but the three of them had dinner without any mention of the talk Mr Burns had suggested, it was only after they had had their coffee in the drawing room that he glanced at his wife and said: ‘We should like to talk to you, Nanny. We hope that you haven’t another job lined up because we would be very glad if you could come with us on holiday in a couple of weeks’ time. We plan to take Mrs Beaufort away—a villa in the Algarve—where she can laze around in the sun and get really well again. Of course we shall take the children with us and we hope that you will come too. Three weeks or a month, and in the meantime if you would like to go home? Now that I am here, we can cope with the twins for a couple of weeks, but without you on holiday with us, I don’t think that we could manage. Will you think about it and let us know? It won’t be much of a holiday for you although we’ll see that you get time to have to yourself each day…’

      ‘We would be back in England about the end of October?’ asked Deborah.

      ‘Yes, but I can’t give you the exact dates just yet.’

      Deborah sounded matter-of-fact, but she was excited too. She liked the twins and Dee; compared with some of the children she had cared for, they were like angels. Besides, even though she would have her hands full all day, it would make a pleasant change. She didn’t give herself time to weigh the pros and cons; she said in her calm way: ‘Yes, I’ll come with you, Mr Burns. I should like to go home first as you suggest, but I can be ready whenever you want. I’ve nothing in view at the moment, and I only have to let the agency know.’

      ‘That calls for another drink,’ declared Mr Burns and presently, nicely glowing from a second sherry, Deborah went up to bed. She didn’t go to sleep at once; her usually sensible head was full of pleasant, excited thoughts. New clothes, suitable for the undoubtedly warm weather they would enjoy, a respite from going back to the agency and deciding which job she would take, there were usually several to choose from, and few of them so far, had been even bordering on perfection. Besides she had to admit to a feeling of faint discontent, not at all her usual self and as far as she could discover it came for no reason at all. She lay pondering this and since she couldn’t find an answer, sensibly went to sleep.

      She went home three days later, with the twins screaming goodbyes and come back soons at her, and with strict instructions to prepare herself for the journey. They were to travel in ten days’ time, flying from Bristol they would then stay in the villa Mr Burns had hired for three weeks. She was to go to Bristol Airport and meet them there not later than ten o’clock in the morning. Mr Burns drove her home, staying briefly to have coffee with her mother before he went again.

      ‘Such a nice man,’ observed Mrs Farley, ‘everything’s turned out very nicely hasn’t it darling? Let me see, it’s almost the end of September, you’ll be back home at the end of October, if you could get a temporary job until just before Christmas…then in the New Year you could find a nice permanent post!’

      ‘Yes, Mother,’ agreed Deborah, with no desire at all to do any such thing. She would have to, of course, a girl had to be independent, her brothers were costing a lot and, although she was barely twenty-three, no one had asked her to marry. She had friends enough, cheerful young men who called her Debby, poured out their problems about girl friends into her sympathetic ear and teased her in a kindly, offhand way. They all liked her, indeed, were fond of her, but not one of them had had the idea of marrying her. And why should they, she would tell her reflection as she wound her sandy hair into a tidy coil, she had no looks to speak of. All the same it would be nice to have a proposal…

      The faint, unsettled feeling was partly drowned in the fun of buying clothes; a couple of pretty cotton dresses, some skirts and tops, sandals and a swim suit and bikinis. No uniform, Mrs Burns had said, they so wanted to be in sun dresses or swim suits all day; even though she would be looking after the children, Deborah felt as though she was going on holiday. She packed with her usual neatness and wearing a sensible uncrushable two-piece, short sleeved, round necked and easy on the eye, she got into the car very early in the morning and settled herself beside her father, who hadn’t needed much persuading to take a day off from the Bank and drive her to the Airport. It was a glorious morning with a faint autumnal chill which would presently give way to the sun’s warmth. ‘You’ll come back as brown as a coffee bean,’ declared her father.

      ‘I go red, Father, and get covered in freckles—I shall have to wear a sun hat. I’ve packed lashings of Ambre Solaire though.’

      ‘As long as you enjoy yourself, my dear.’

      They had half an hour to spare at the airport, they drank a quick cup of coffee and then went to the reception area to look for the Burns family. They were already there, the twins sternly controlled by their father, Mrs Burns carrying Dee and Mrs Beaufort in a wheel chair. They all looked a little gloomy, but when they saw Deborah the gloom lifted as if by magic.

      ‘Thank God!’ said Mr Burns, and meant it. ‘We should have fetched you over yesterday—we bit off rather more than we could chew. Still we’re here now.’ He beamed at her, shook hands with Mr Farley and edged away so that they might say goodbye. Mr Farley didn’t linger, Deborah was a sensible girl, quite able to cope with any situation and quite unruffled. He turned to wave once and she waved back and then took Dee under one arm, attached the twins (holding hands) to her free hand and watched while Mrs Burns picked up her overnight bag and Mr Burns gave orders about the luggage before leading the little party briskly to the end of the reception hall. It didn’t seem to be the same direction as everyone else was going but Mrs Burns and her mother, still in the chair being pushed by an airport attendant, looked quite unworried. Deborah, trailing the twins, brought up the rear.

      It took her a minute or two to realise that they were flying by charter plane. A sensible, if expensive way of getting an invalid lady, two boisterous children and a baby, not to mention the Burns and herself, to their destination. They embarked smoothly, with Deborah settled between the twins and with Dee on her lap; Mrs Beaufort on her own now, stretched out on the opposite seat; and the Burns sitting in front. The twins were ominously quiet, Deborah gave them each a book to look at, saw with relief that Dee had dropped off, and prayed silently for at least half an hour’s peace.