September in Paris Page 4

  “I wouldn’t describe myself as a rake,” Alain objected mildly.

  “No?” Well, you are younger than Guy when he married me. There is still time for you to equal the number of his exploits.”

  “I didn’t realize you disapproved of love affairs, Grand’mere.”

  “I don’t—if they are love affairs. One cannot control one’s heart, and there may be many such experiences before the real love is discovered. But when an affair is not of the heart, but simply an amusing experiment—then I do disapprove,” she said, with sudden austerity. “You see, I believe that your grandfather was really in love with me. In many ways he was a perfect husband. But, in spite of his feeling for me, he could never resist those ... experiments. They were not important to him and he was very discreet. I was never publicly humiliated. But I knew about them—a woman always knows. I loved him till the end of his life, but sometimes I hated him.”

  There was a long silence while Alain stared at the tip of his cigarette and Madame de Bressac seemed to be lost in the past. Finally she stirred herself and smiled at him.

  “Poor Alain! You did not anticipate a lecture,” she said quizzically. “Never mind: I am not going to make a habit of it. It is only that I think Noelle might fall in love with you, and it would be a pity for her to be hurt. She is young and perhaps a little lonely, and you can be very engaging when you like.”

  “You don’t wish me to see her again?”

  His grandmother made a gesture. “You must do as you think best. Now I want to finish my book. Goodnight, mon cher.”

  On the morning after Noelle’s visit to Madame de Bressac, Lady Tregan paid an unexpected visit to the nursery. She was dressed to go out and looked superbly elegant in a geranium silk suit with a high-crowned hat of shiny black straw.

  Perhaps the admiration in Noelle’s eyes pleased her, as she said pleasantly, “You both look very busy.”

  Noelle switched off the iron and Robert looked up from his painting. He had a cupboard filled with toys of every description, but Noelle thought he needed more constructive pastimes and had bought him some pots of poster paint. At the moment he was happily occupied in daubing great splodges of color on a large sheet of paper.

  “I didn’t know you were an artist, Robert,” his mother said, looking at his masterpiece but keeping out of range of a wave of his brush.

  Noelle explained about the paints, and suggested that a miniature easel would be better than working on the table.

  “But certainly, you may buy whatever you think suitable,” Lady Tregan said graciously. She stepped on to the balcony to view the baby. “Do you think it wise for her to have so little on at this late stage of the summer?” she enquired, over her shoulder.

  “She had rather a bad nappy rash when I arrived, and exposing the skin is the best way to clear it up,” Noelle explained. “If you feel her legs, you’ll find she’s quite warm enough.”

  The Frenchwoman regarded her daughter’s naked limbs without enthusiasm. She seemed to have no maternal instincts, and Noelle wondered if she had had the children only to please her husband.

  That night, when Noelle was putting Robert to bed, he suddenly reached up and hugged her.

  “I do like you, Noelle,” he said fervently.

  She dropped a kiss on his hair and tucked him in, but although she was touched by the gesture and glad that he had taken so readily to her, she felt that it was wrong for her to be the centre of his world. It ought to have been his mother who read his bedtime story and listened to his prayers.

  Every morning at breakfast Robert said, “I wonder if Uncle Mark will come to see me today.”

  As several days passed without a sign of Mark Fielding, Noelle began to wonder the same thing. Then one evening, in the middle of a hilarious romp round the bed, she suddenly saw that they had an audience. Both Mark and Sir Robert were standing in the doorway.

  Noelle let the little boy wriggle out of her grasp, and wondered what on earth they must think of her. Her hair was rumpled, her apron awry, her face flushed with the exertion of chasing an eel-like four-year-old.

  “Good evening,” she said nervously.

  Robert was not at all discomposed. He bounced delightedly on the bed. “Noelle is ticklish, Daddy,” he announced. “If I tickle her neck she goes like this.” He hunched up his shoulders and closed his eyes very tightly.

  “I don’t doubt .it,” Sir Robert said, looking amused. “I hope she tickles you back.”

  “She couldn’t catch me,” Robert said, looking pleased. “Shall I show you my pictures?” He slid off the bed and pointed to his most prized painting, which was propped on the top of his locker.

  While the men were admiring his handiwork Noelle slipped out of the room and hurriedly tidied herself.

  After about ten minutes, Mark came into the day nursery. “Sir Robert’s reading a, story to him,” he said.

  “Oh, good.” Noelle busied herself at the electric airing cabinet.

  “Does he beat you up every night?” he asked.

  She laughed. “I can take it. He’s really rather a gentle little boy.”

  The baby began to whimper and she hurried through to attend to her. Mark followed. He stood at the foot of the cot, watching her change Victoire’s nappy.

  “I tried my hand at that once, and the little wretch drenched me,” he said wryly.

  Noelle glanced up at him. She had expected him to be cool and offhand, but he sounded as friendly as before their meeting in the street.

  “How did you come to be changing her?” she asked.

  “Oh, I looked in one afternoon and there didn’t seem to anyone, about. She was yelling her head off, and Robert said she was wet. He told me what to do—he’s an observant little; chap—but it’s easier said, than done.”

  He leaned over the cot and touched the baby’s cheek. Noelle noticed how attractive his hands were, the long square-tipped fingers suggesting both strength and dexterity. She noticed, too, that although he was always immaculately dressed, he did not wear a signet ring and the watch on his muscular wrist was a plain chrome type with a rather worn black leather strap.

  When the baby was comfortable they returned to the day room, and he said, “Don’t you get bored being up here alone most evenings?”

  Noelle shook her head. “I like reading, and there’s a sewing machine if I want to run up some dresses. I’ve been looking for a lending library, but there doesn’t seem to be one locally.”

  Sir Robert had come, in and heard her remark. “If you’re short of books there are plenty in the library downstairs, Nurse. It’s on the ground floor, to the right of the front door. You’re very welcome to borrow anything you fancy.”

  “Oh, may I really? Thank you very much.”

  “Not at all. You won’t find much in the way of popular fiction, but there are plenty of biographies and travel books if they interest you at all.”

  The next afternoon, returning from a walk with the children, Noelle saw a brown paper parcel on the table.

  “What’s this?” she asked Ginette.

  The girl shrugged. “It was delivered for you an hour ago,” she said carelessly.

  Noelle snipped the string. The parcel contained two English novels and several paperbacks. They were not new copies, but no name was on any of the fly-leaves, and for a moment she could not think where they had come from. Then she realized that they must have been sent round by Mark as a follow-up to last night’s conversation.

  “You like books, mademoiselle?” Ginette enquired.

  “Yes, very much. Do you?”

  “Me, I prefer to have adventures in real life,” the French girl said pertly.

  Noelle smiled to herself. She guessed that Ginette thought her staid and old-maidish, and suspected that she would have thought the same eight years ago. Through the eyes of a sixteen-year-old, anyone over twenty was verging on middle-age.

  Later in the day she was called to the housekeeper’s room to answer the telephone. It was
Alain. He wanted her to meet him that evening.

  “I’m sorry, but that’s impossible,” Noelle said briskly, conscious that Madame Duvet had not left the room.

  “Then when can I see you again?” he demanded.

  Noelle hesitated. “I’m free on Tuesday.”

  “That’s a long time to wait. I’m beginning to wish you were a career-girl, at least you would have your evenings free,” Alain complained. “All right, Tuesday it is. Can I call for you?”

  Noelle could imagine the reactions of the rest of the staff if Alain collected her. “I’d rather you didn’t,” she said carefully.

  He seemed to guess that she was not alone. “Very well, I’ll pick you up at the corner at seven. And wear your prettiest dress, ma petite, because we’re going to celebrate something.”

  Her curiosity aroused, but unable to question him, Noelle said goodbye and rang off. “Thank you, madame.” She turned to leave the room.

  “A moment, mademoiselle,” the housekeeper said sharply.

  Noelle looked at her enquiringly.

  “It is not permitted for the staff to have telephone calls,” Madame Duvet said coldly.

  “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, but I didn’t know I was going to have a call,” Noelle answered quietly.

  “Please ensure that it does not happen again.” The tone was so curt and arbitrary that Noelle felt a prick of irritation. She had thought at first that the coldness of the housekeeper’s manner was merely reserve. But it was becoming more and more evident that Madame Duvet disliked her.

  “Certainly, madame. Excuse me,” she said evenly. Once again the Frenchwoman stopped her from leaving. “You were speaking to a man?” she demanded.

  “I really cannot see that that is anyone’s concern but my own,” Noelle retorted.

  Madame Duvet’s heavy eyelids flickered. There was a reptilian quality about her that Noelle found faintly repellent.

  “It is my concern to see that members of the staff conduct themselves properly,” she said heavily.

  “I am not a member of the domestic staff, madame,” Noelle countered.

  “Don’t give yourself airs with me, mademoiselle.” There was no mistaking the animosity in the older woman’s eyes. “Your predecessor was obliged to leave sooner than she expected. She too fancied herself superior to the rest of us.”

  “It has nothing to do with that. I—” Noelle stopped short. It was useless to bicker with the woman. She had obviously made up her mind to be hostile and no amount of argument would mellow her. Perhaps she disliked the English as a race, or perhaps she resented the fact that the nursery was outside her jurisdiction. Whatever the cause of her antagonism, it would be wiser to avoid an open breach.

  It was not until Sunday that Noelle was able to thank Mark for his thoughtfulness. After lunch she received a message that the children were wanted in the salon. This time it was a family occasion, and only Sir Robert and his wife and sister-in-law were present.

  “You needn’t stay, Nurse. I will ring for you later,” Lady Tregan said, taking the baby on her lap.

  But less than half an hour later Noelle was summoned again, and crossing the landing, she saw Mark coming up the stairs.

  “It was kind of you to lend me those books,” she said warmly.

  He gave her a teasing smile. “I thought you might find Sir Robert’s collection heavy going and be glad of some light relief.”

  “I’ve almost finished them now.”

  “There’s no hurry.” He opened the door for her. As Noelle went in Anne-Marie rose quickly from her chair. “Oh, there you are, Nurse. The horrid little thing has ruined my dress,” she said irritably, thrusting Victoire at Noelle with a moue of disgust. 'Then, as she caught sight of Mark, her scowl gave place to a smile. “Oh, Mark, how nice to see you. Excuse me, I must go and change my frock.” She whisked out of the room.

  “Do you want me to bring Victoire back when I’ve changed her, Lady Tregan?” Noelle asked uncertainly.

  “Oh, yes, bring her back. She hasn’t wetted me yet,” Sir Robert said, chuckling. He had his son on his knee and was looking more relaxed and carefree than usual.

  When Noelle returned the family was having tea. Anne-Marie had changed into, a yellow jersey dress and was sitting on a couch with Mark, and her sister was presiding behind a silver tea service.

  “Can Noelle have tea with us, Daddy?” Robert asked eagerly.

  “By all means,” his father said readily. “Do sit down, Miss Webster. How are you getting on with your explorations? Where have you, been so far?”

  Conscious that Lady Tregan might not endorse her son’s desire to have her join them, Noelle sat down and answered Sir Robert’s questions.

  “Do you prefer milk or lemon, Nurse?” Lady Tregan put in.

  “Oh, milk, please.” Noelle jumped up to take the cup that was poured for her, and accepted a wafer-thin sandwich.

  “Montmartre has changed since my young days,” Sir Robert remarked. “I’m told it’s quite a respectable neighbourhood. When I was a boy it was swimming with the most extraordinary characters. Some of them looked as if they’d cut your throat for a sou.”

  “Noelle had supper in a room right under the ground, Daddy. She said it was just like a cave, didn’t you?” Robert reminded her. “She had snails, too,” he added proudly.

  “What did you think of them, Miss Webster?” his father asked, with a twinkle.

  “If I hadn’t known they were snails I should probably have enjoyed them,” Noelle said, laughing. “But I’m told frogs’ legs are really delicious.”

  Sir Robert grimaced. “I suppose I’m very insular, but these exotic delicacies have never appealed to me. Providing they’re decently cooked, I think it’s hard to beat the good old English dishes. My wife tells me I have an undeveloped palate, but I still hanker for my roast beef.”

  “You are not nervous of dining alone in a strange city, Nurse?” Lady Tregan enquired.

  “I don’t feel that Paris is a strange city,” Noelle replied.

  Lady Tregan looked surprised, but before she could question this statement Mark said, “All the same I’m not sure that it was wise to have supper in one of the cellar-clubs. As Sir Robert says, Montmartre is pretty well tamed how, but any girl on her own is always open to annoyances. I wouldn’t risk it again if I were you.”

  “Oh, come now, Mark, that’s rather an old-fashioned view, isn’t it?” Sir Robert said tolerantly. “Girls go all over the place these days without any protection. Masterson’s granddaughter went right round Europe last summer with a couple of friends. The old chap was telling me about it the other day. They did the whole trip on about twenty pounds a head, and they didn’t come to any harm.”

  “I agree with Mark. I don’t think it is at all wise for Nurse to go about at night on her own,” said Lady Tregan. “It would be most unfortunate if she were to be involved in some unpleasant incident.” Her tone implied that Noelle’s connection with the household would be the most unfortunate aspect of such a contingency.

  “Well, as it happens, I wasn’t alone,” Noelle said hurriedly. It seemed the quickest way to end the discussion, but, as soon as she had said it, she wished she had kept silent.

  With the exception of Sir Robert they all looked at her questioningly.

  “You were with another girl?” Lady Tregan asked pointedly.

  “No—with a man.” Because she was suddenly the centre of attention Noelle felt her cheeks growing warm. She had the unpleasant feeling that she both looked and sounded guilty about something.

  “You have friends in Paris, then?” Lady Tregan said.

  “I know a few people.”

  “What did you mean by saying that Paris did not seem strange to you, Nurse?” the Frenchwoman pressed.

  “Well, you see, I was born here,” Noelle said awkwardly.

  “Oh, really? That’s interesting. So that is rather in the nature of a homecoming,” Sir Robert remarked.

  “Yes, in
a way. I was too small when I left to remember anything, of course.”

  “The war, I suppose,” Sir Robert said, nodding.

  “Do you speak French, Nurse?” There was a definite sharpness in his wife’s tone as she put the question.

  Noelle nodded. “Yes, I do.” She felt sure that Lady Tregan was remembering the afternoon when her friends had been discussing Noelle in her presence.

  “Indeed. I don’t recall your mentioning the fact.”

  Once again Noelle felt as if she had committed an offence. It seemed impertinent to reply that no one had asked her about the matter, so she said nothing. It was a relief when, shortly after this, Victoire became fretful and had to be taken upstairs.

  As Noelle left the house to meet Alain on Tuesday evening, she met the chauffeur, Michel, in the courtyard. He was polishing the car, and unless he stood aside there was no room for her to pass.

  “Good evening, mademoiselle.” His bold eyes ran over her, taking in the extra make-up, the high-heeled shoes and sheer nylons.

  It was a warm evening, and Noelle had put on a dark blue silk sheath with a matching jacket. During the afternoon she had been window-shopping again, and had fallen for an enchanting little theatre hat—if a dome of veiling topped by a flat silk bow could be called a hat. She was wearing it now, the veiling just tipping her nose.

  “You have a date, mademoiselle?” Michel enquired, making no attempt to move out of her way.

  Noelle ignored the question. She did not like being looked up and down in that way. “May I come through, please?” she said quietly.

  “In such a hurry? You must make friends quickly.” He put out his hand and instinctively she shrank back. But he was only reaching for his jacket which was hanging from a peg in the wall.

  “You are a nervous one.” He laughed at her. “Come, you must not keep your beau waiting.” He moved aside, leaving just enough room for her to pass.