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he started the car and swung it round. ‘The address?’ he persisted in a voice which would brook no denial.
He made no comment as he stopped the car in front of Mrs Adams’ shop. It was still open, although there were no customers there. Shirley was starting to tidy away the racks of magazines and comics, and she glanced up as Jemima got out of the car and crossed the pavement.
‘Cor, look who’s ’ere, come ’ome in a posh car!’ She caught sight of the Professor straightening his splendid person to his full height, cat basket in hand, and her eyes almost started from her head. ‘And Prince Charming tagging along, an’ all.’ She grinned widely at Jemima. ‘Oo’s yer posh friend, Jemima?’
Jemima had gone a little pink, but she said clearly: ‘Shirley, this is Professor Cator, who has most kindly given me a lift back.’ She gave him a fleeting look. ‘Professor, this is Miss Shirley Adams.’
He took the hand offered him and shook it firmly. ‘I’ll come up with you, if I may, Miss Mason?’ He looked enquiringly at Shirley as he spoke and she flung the door at the back of the shop open. ‘Go ahead,’ she begged him, and winked at Jemima.
There was nothing for it but to climb the shabby stairs with him hard on her heels. As they reached the landing the smell of frying fish was heavy on the air, a sign that Mrs Adams was in the kitchen, fortunately with the door shut. Jemima breathed a small sigh of relief and led the way down the passage and opened her door.
‘It isn’t a flat,’ she told him forthrightly. ‘I should have told you that in the first place, shouldn’t I?’
He closed the door behind him. ‘Yes, you should,’ and then surprisingly he added in a quite gentle voice, ‘But I quite see why you didn’t.’ He smiled at her so kindly that she smiled too, a little uncertainly, and he went on: ‘Of course you can’t keep a cat here; she shall come home with me.’
He put the basket down on the bed and stood in the middle of the room, towering over everything, and since Jemima had nothing to say to that, he bent and let the cat out and tucked her under his arm. ‘Perhaps I might sit down?’ he suggested softly.
Jemima’s face, until now pale with fright, coloured fiercely. ‘I’m so sorry, please do—not the chair, though, it’s not very strong. Perhaps the bed, if you wouldn’t mind.’
He sat down beside the little cat and scooped her on to his knee. Its hind legs were in plaster, but its coat was soft and shining and its small face was nicely plump.
Jemima tickled her chin with a gentle finger. ‘I wish I could have her—she’s beautiful, isn’t she? Will her legs be all right?’
‘The vet says so. Tell me, Jemima, how much does my aunt pay you each week?’
‘Fifty pounds, and I have my lunch and tea at her house.’
‘And the rent here?’
It really wasn’t his business, but somehow she found herself answering him. ‘Forty pounds a week, but I get a good breakfast and my supper as well as this room.’
‘No extras?’ he asked casually.
‘Well, this fire, and the gas ring—there’s a meter, and ten pence a day for a bath, but I haven’t any fares. I have plenty to live on, Professor Cator.’
‘But not much to spend.’
‘Enough. Lady Manderly likes me to have lunch with her on my half day, so I don’t get back here much before two o’clock, and by the time I’ve done what shopping I need to do, it’s tea time. And on Sundays I go to church and explore London. I don’t know it very well.’
‘You have friends?’
She could have lied about that, but his rather hard grey eyes were on her face. ‘Oh, yes, but they all live in Oxford—that is—that was—my home.’
‘Ah yes, my aunt mentioned that.’ He wasn’t looking at her, but stroking the cat curled up on his knee. ‘If you wish I could find you somewhere more suitable in which to live.’
She looked like an eager child. ‘Oh, could you? That would be…no, it wouldn’t do. I can’t leave here, not yet. You see, Mrs Adams and Shirley were very kind to me—I had nowhere to go, and they offered me a room…’ She paused and looked at him, remote, polite and probably bored to death. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever found yourself without a home?’ she observed. ‘It’s not pleasant.’ There was no trace of self-pity in her quiet voice.
‘I imagine not.’ He put the cat back into the basket and stood up. ‘You must do as you wish, Jemima.’
She went to open the door. ‘I’m very grateful for the offer, Professor Cator, and for your kindness in taking the little cat. I’m sorry I misled you.’
He said austerely: ‘Yes, don’t do it again, but I think perhaps that you will not—it would be quite useless, you know.’
The kitchen door was open now and a blue haze redolent of fish hung over the landing. Mrs Adams stood there, obviously primed by Shirley and anxious to see their visitor. She looked a little belligerent, for she didn’t hold with gentlemen followers to girls living in bedsitters, but as her eye lighted upon the Professor her expression changed. Here was a gent all right, lovely manners too—coming straight to her and shaking her hand and saying how delighted his aunt was that Miss Mason had found such a comfortable room and such a kind landlady.
‘Well, I’m sure I do me best,’ said Mrs Adams, much gratified. ‘Such a nice young lady too—me and Shirl saw that first go off—we’re glad ter ’ave her.’
She melted visibly under Professor Cator’s charm, and Jemima, watching, saw that he could be very charming indeed if he wanted to. He shook Mrs Adams’ hand. ‘I’ll leave you to your supper,’ he said pleasantly, and bade her good evening. With Jemima ahead of him he went downstairs and into the shop where Shirley was still pottering about, although the closed sign was on the door now. ‘’Ad a nice chat?’ she asked brightly, and unlocked the door. The Professor gave her a pleasant smile, nodded briskly to Jemima, then got back into his car and drove away.
‘What’s in the basket?’ asked Shirley as they stood watching the Rolls’ imposing back disappear.
‘A cat. He rescued it and took it to a vet to be cured. He’s taking it to his home.’
‘Where’s he live?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘We’ll, if I was you, I’d jolly well find out. He’s a bit of all right—’andsome and loaded. I fancy ’im.’ She shot a look at Jemima. ‘Don’t you?’
Jemima was going upstairs. ‘No—no, I don’t. You see, I don’t know anything about him. Besides, he’s got a smashing blonde.’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’ asked Shirley.
Jemima turned round to look at her. ‘Everything in the world. She’s the loveliest girl I’ve ever seen, Shirley, and she wears clothes straight out of Harpers.’
They were on the landing and Jemima turned away to go to her room. ‘I must just tidy myself,’ she added.
‘Well, and she may be a raving beauty,’ said Shirley, ‘but you’ve got class, Jemima—stands out a mile, it does—she’ll loose ’er looks by the time she’s thirty, and you’ll be just like you are now.’
‘Thanks, Shirley.’ Jemima gave a chuckle. ‘But I’ve not got long to go—I’m twenty-seven, as near as not.’
She was kept busy for the next few days, the replies to the invitations she had sent out were coming in fast and Lady Manderly was enjoying herself giving orders and then countermanding them, changing the refreshments almost hourly, sending back the dress she was to wear, arguing with the caterers. And all of it done through Jemima, who spent hours on the phone placating the irate people at the other