Happy With Either Read online

  Happy with Either

  By

  Ruth Clemence

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HAPPY WITH EITHER

  The twins, Nils and Sean, had been close friends of Bobbie's for years, and she could never decide which one she liked the best. Now she was working as secretary to their nice older brother Harry. Would he be able to help her choose between them?

  First published 1972

  This edition 1972

  © Ruth Clemence 1972

  ISBN 0 263 71378 4

  CHAPTER ONE

  Bobbie saw the roof of the sawmill flash past the train window and knew she was nearly home. Getting up, she lifted down her week-end case before stepping into the corridor. If she were quick she would be able to see which of her parents had come down to collect her, as the train pulled into Charlton Heath station.

  Her mother was already standing in the car-park alongside the station fence anxiously scanning the carriage windows and Bobbie waved before opening the door and jumping on to the platform as soon as the train glided to a halt.

  In seconds she was through the barrier and hurrying towards her mother. Mrs. Bentham flung two arms round her, gave her a hug and said, 'Your father has had to go to a Parish Council meeting, but he should be finished by the time we get to the village, so I've arranged to pick him up. I like that outfit, dear. New, is it? I haven't seen it before, have I?'

  Bobbie grinned to herself as she shook her head and eased herself into the passenger seat of the Mini. Her mother was always like this for the first half hour of her visit. Asking questions by the minute with seldom a pause for more than a nod or shake of the head from her daughter. Later she would remember to ask for details, but at the moment her excitement in having her only chick home even for a brief week-end made Mrs. Bentham's conversation a little incoherent.

  It took them about seven minutes to drive from the station to the village of Charlton Heath. A lot of people complained of the distance, but as Bobbie's father often pointed out, they were very lucky that the station had not been closed down. Many of the smaller ones had disappeared in the modernisation of the line and Charlton Heath was also fortunate in having the London trains stop there.

  As Mrs. Bentham drew up alongside the village hall they saw that they were just in time. The members of the Parochial Church Council were slowly coming out of the church hall, talking to one another as they did so. Bobbie spotted her father at the back, having a few words with the vicar.

  Until eighteen months ago he had been headmaster of the village school and they had lived in the charming school house on the far side of the church. But since his retirement they had moved to a small cottage some half a mile from the church, and Mr. and Mrs. Bentham had been very busy clearing up and landscaping the garden which had been neglected by the previous owner.

  The cottage itself was over a hundred years old, but it had been partially modernised before Bobbie's parents bought it and they had since added several of their own ideas to make it more comfortable for their middle age. Bobbie, working in London, only came down now once a month, so could only be regarded as a visitor, although she still kept a lot of her belongings stored away in the fitted cupboard in the smaller of the two bedrooms upstairs.

  Suddenly Mr. Bentham spotted the car and came hurrying down the path. Bobbie got out to greet him and to push the passenger seat forward so she could slip into the back.

  Her father got into the car and slewed round so that he could look at her. 'I believe you're losing weight,' he said bluntly. 'Not going on one of these stupid diets, I hope?'

  Bobbie smiled. 'Certainly not! In any case,' she glanced down at her trim figure, 'I never thought I'd any need to diet. No, the fact is we've been particularly busy at the agency the last few weeks and Marie and I have had to go back several evenings to work late and clear up administrative problems which we can't get at during the day. I'm afraid we've missed meals in consequence.'

  Mr. Bentham merely grunted and turning round looked ahead through the windscreen. Bobbie bit her lip. She wished very much that she had not introduced the subject of her work; she could quite easily have turned the conversation along other channels.

  Although more than four years had passed it was still a very sore topic with her father that it had been necessary for her to take up secretarial work instead of going to university as he had hoped. It would have been much more tactful not to mention the typing agency where she had been employed for the last two years.

  But already Mrs. Bentham was turning the car into the tiny driveway and pulling up before the doors of the garage which had been added to the house since they moved in. A sympathetic local builder had gone to a great deal of trouble to find old bricks to tone in with the structure of the house. Climbing plants put in immediately the structure had been finished had added the final touch and taken away that hint of absurdity which one sometimes noticed when modern additions were tacked on to old houses.

  The inside of the cottage was simply but tastefully furnished and Bobbie let out a sigh of pleasure as she put down her case and glanced around. The bowls on the small side tables and the window ledges were as usual full of flowers, her mother being a leading light in the local ladies' gardening club. She followed Mrs. Bentham through into the small fitted kitchen which looked over the sunny garden to find her putting on the kettle.

  'Get some cups down, darling, will you?' her mother asked as she moved away to get milk out of the refrigerator and take down a tray. 'I made some scones before I came to the station, they should be cool enough for buttering. Put out a cup and saucer for your father, I daresay he won't refuse a cup of tea if he's been talking most of the evening.' When the tea was made they carried it through to the living-room where Mr. Bentham was sitting doing a crossword puzzle. He glanced up as his womenfolk came into the room and took off his reading glasses.

  'Anything interesting happen at the meeting tonight, dear?' Mrs. Bentham asked as she sorted out the cups and saucers and began to pour out the tea.

  'Nothing,' her husband answered briefly, 'except the usual arrangements for the Harvest Fair. Jo is lending her house and garden as usual. She wasn't there this evening, but she sent a message to say that it would be available as usual this year.'

  Mrs. Bentham sighed. 'I hope they don't give me the White Elephant stall again,' she remarked as she passed the plate of scones to Bobbie. 'I've had it for the last five years and I really think it's time somebody else took a turn.'

  'You don't have to worry, my dear,' Mr. Bentham reassured her. 'I was determined to get you out of it this year. Fortunately Mrs. Fortescue is going away on a cruise and won't be able to run the flower stall, so you're to take that over.'

  Instantly Mrs. Bentham's eyes lit up. If there was one thing that was near to her heart it was flowers or anything to do with gardens. 'Oh, Robert, that's absolutely marvellous! However did you manage it? When Mrs. Fortescue isn't here it's usually grabbed by that odious Miss Crennell from Ivy Cottage. She and Mrs. Fortescue are bosom pals.'

  'Miss Crennell will be away too, apparently,' Mr. Bentham remarked, putting on his reading glasses again and picking up his pencil as he filled in the answer to one of the clues in the crossword puzzle. He hesitated a moment his pencil poised over one of the squares. 'I believe they're going on holiday together. I can't remember the details, just that neither of them is free this year to help with the Fair.'

  'Anyone else standing down from their usual chores?' Mrs. Bentham enquired.

  'I don't think so,
' her husband replied. 'Mrs. Chapman assured us that the teas would be done as usual by the W.I. Sven Sorensen I suppose will be in charge of bowling for the pig. What his boys will be doing is anybody's guess. Their contribution is usually a surprise, as well you know, my dear.'

  'At least it's not for seven weeks, so we don't have to think about it immediately—and there is one thing about the flowers,' Mrs. Bentham remarked with great satisfaction, 'they have to be done at the last minute. But there's our holiday coming before that anyway. I must go down and see Jo about who is to collect for the White Elephant stall if I'm not going to be in charge of it. It needs somebody sensible and with a bit of organisation.'

  Mr. Bentham looked up and his teeth gleamed in an ironical smile. 'Patting yourself on the back a bit, my dear, aren't you?'

  Mrs. Bentham glanced across and smiled lovingly at him. They had not met until she was twenty-nine and Mr. Bentham in his middle thirties and they had both given up hope of finding a suitable life partner. Then one summer Jane Darvills had come down to Charlton Heath to stay with her old school-friend Joanna Sorensen and had been introduced to the new headmaster of the. village school. It had been a whirlwind courtship which had shaken not only the village but Jane herself to her foundations, and she had been still bewildered when she found herself installed not only as the wife of the village schoolmaster but teaching the infants herself.

  But not for very long. Some two years after they were married Bobbie had put in her appearance, and thereafter Jane Bentham had retired from active teaching, only going in to help when staff shortages or sicknesses demanded it.

  Mrs. Bentham was sitting with a distinctly fond smile in her eyes and a reminiscent look about her face, so Bobbie broke in quickly to ask indirectly the question most near to her heart. 'How are the Sorensens these days?'

  Her mother blinked and came back from whatever distance she had been in when Bobbie spoke. 'Oh, fine! Jo and Sven have just come back from Sweden. She's got Carol staying with her two boys, Harry's finished another book, and the twins—well, I don't know where the twins are, they come and go from time to time.'

  Bobbie saw her father's mouth taking a familiar downward curve at the reference to the twins, so she rushed in with, 'I haven't seen Carol and her nippers for ages, I must try and get up tomorrow and say hello to her.'

  'Yes, Jo was saying how much she'd like to see you if you've got a minute during the week-end. I've more or less arranged that you and I will go over there and have a cup of tea tomorrow afternoon. Your father's got a cricket match to umpire, so he won't be free and it leaves us at a loose end. Now I think I'd better go and set the table for breakfast, time's getting on,' Mrs.

  Bentham said as she glanced at the clock, and then getting up, started to put the tea-things on to the tray.

  Bobbie got hastily to her feet and carried the tray through to the kitchen. While her mother laid the table and put out the milk bottles for the following morning she washed up the three cups and saucers and put away the rest of the scones into a tin.

  'Harry got a new blonde?' she asked her mother idly.

  Mrs. Bentham, in the act of putting out the cruet, started to giggle quite youthfully. 'Oh, my dear! You must see her. Jo's in despair. I think she must be one of the Miss World contestants by the look of her. All long flowing flaxen hair, a broken accent and the very, very latest in trendy gear.'

  Bobbie started to laugh too. 'It's funny the way he gives himself these little holidays after every book, isn't it, Mum? Now who was it last time, I just forget. Oh, I remember, it was Fiona Pemberton from Charlton Hall, wasn't it? And then the year before it was that little T.V. actress who was so popular at the time. What was her name, Gwendoline somebody or other.'

  'Yes,' her mother carried on, 'and the year before that it was—now let me think. Oh, for the life of me I can't remember. She'd high hopes of hooking Harry, though. I recall there were frightful scenes after he started the next book and immediately forgot her very existence. Jo said she got quite afraid to answer the telephone. I must say,' Bobbie's mother went on, 'when Jo and I were at school together, I never thought she'd end up with such a way-out family. Oh, she was always an adventurous sort of a girl, if you know what I mean, but she had some quaint ways and old-fashioned ideas for all that. I never thought she'd get married at eighteen the way she did, and to a racing driver of all people. His way of life was quite different from anything she'd been used to, and she had Harry very quickly, you know. I can't imagine what might have happened if Gerry Redmayne hadn't been killed and Jo hadn't met and married Sven Sorensen so soon afterwards. Sven's as solid as Gerry was wild. You couldn't imagine such opposites. Anyway, Jo seems perfectly content, and if she seems the last person to produce not one but three wayward and attractive sons, at least Carol is sane and reliable.'

  Bobbie did not comment. She thought about the various members of the family. Carol, being the girl, perhaps she knew the best. She had not had much contact with Harry. After leaving college he had taught for two or three years in a boys' preparatory school, then to everyone's astonishment had suddenly written a best-selling historical novel. He had followed this up with four more books which had all sold well even if they had not had the phenomenal success of the first.

  Though she had known Harry all her life it had never been intimately. She was used to him saying playfully, 'And how's little Bobbie Bentham?' when she went up to have tea with his sister and twin brothers, but otherwise he had taken little notice of her. In her teens too he had appeared so much older than the rest of them that Bobbie had sometimes felt a bit in awe of him.

  The twins were another matter. Nils and Sean were only three years older than herself, so Bobbie had often been invited to their parties. She had not, however, seen much of them for the last few years. After university they had spent a year going round the world together, and then Sean had suddenly made his mind up to go into the Air Force, while Nils had entered their father's furniture business and had gone to Sweden to start his training there before taking his place in the London headquarters.

  The big house where the Sorensens lived was about half a mile away from the Benthams' cottage. It had originally belonged to Gerry Redmayne and now Joanna Sorensen and her husband divided their time between it and their London flat. Harry, since he had started making a name as an author, lived there permanently, apart from short periods between books when he gave himself a holiday, and amused the county by setting it alight with his escapades. Since these interludes usually involved the company of a very attractive member of the opposite sex, he had made quite a reputation for himself, and the villagers of Charlton Heath in particular regarded him with a sort of amused but kindly tolerance. He was one of them, so anything he did was all right.

  After she had said goodnight and gone upstairs to her room Bobbie, however, did not immediately start to get ready for bed. She stood in the darkness, the curtains open, and looked out on to the darkening . garden. The Redmayne/Sorensen family had played a big part in her life. Owing to her mother's lifelong friendship with Joanna Sorensen, she had naturally been drawn into close companionship with those of Joanna's children who were near her age. Nils and Sean had got her into many a scrape when they were small, but it was not until she was eighteen, and they were down for the Christmas vacation from the university, that real trouble had raised its ugly head. Bobbie's eighteenth birthday fell in Christmas week, and as she had received a gilt-edged card inviting her to the boys' twenty-first birthday celebrations which were to take place the second week in January, Mrs. Bentham had suggested that she hold a teenage party of her own at Christmas and invite the Sorensen boys to it. They had come, and to Bobbie's intense gratification both immediately began to take an ardent interest in her. Presents and flowers arrived daily and she had almost had her head turned by the attentions of two such handsome boys. Nils was as fair as Sean was dark, and the only similarity about them was an identical pair of intensely blue eyes.

  The twenty-first par
ty had been a glittering affair and Bobbie had been the envy of all her friends. Not only had she had one of the prettiest dresses in the room but she had also the undivided attention of both young hosts.

  The unusual three-cornered liaison had continued during the spring term and all through the Easter holidays when Bobbie, who was due to sit her 'A' levels the following June, should have been hard at work studying. She had formed the habit of going up to her bedroom ostensibly to revise and then slipping out quietly to meet the boys and go off in their sports car, firmly squashed between two hefty specimens of humanity, to spend the evening playing darts or sharing a barbecue in somebody's garden.

  The inevitable had happened. When Nils and Sean returned to university after Easter the daily letters began to dwindle until at last Bobbie was lucky if she got a reply from either of her erstwhile admirers. In the meantime her own work was suffering, and when it came time to sit the examinations which meant the difference between gaining or losing her own place at university she had proceeded to make a hideous botch of every paper she attempted. It had not been that she just failed, she had failed miserably, and her father decided it would be useless to keep her on at school for another attempt at getting the necessary levels to take her on to university.

  Very little had been said after his first furious outburst. Mr. Bentham, usually a quiet man, had really lost his temper, and this unusual occurrence, as much as his actual words, had made Bobbie at last face up to what opportunities she had thrown away through her infatuation.

  One grain of comfort that summer had been the fact that Nils and Sean had only come home briefly to pack their bags before setting out on a world tour together, and they had not returned to their home for almost twelve months.

  Bobbie had felt at the time that she could not face a meeting with them. Overnight, it seemed they had completely lost interest in her. Where once they had deluged her with letters, presents, flowers and invitations, now they had forgotten her very existence. And the thought that she had ruined her career for two boys whose interest had been so shallow and transient filled her with almost as much shame as the fact that despite their present neglect she was still half in love with both of them.