by Betty Neels
So James was away. Clotilde, washing her hands in the little gem of a bathroom, felt regret.
They had their drinks in a surprisingly large sitting room, comfortably furnished with chintz-covered chairs drawn up to a small fire in the steel grate, several small mahogany lamp tables and a glass-fronted wall cupboard housing a collection of Delft blue. Harry had come in and curled himself up before the fire, and Katrina flopped down beside him, leaving Clotilde to settle herself in one of the chairs. They sipped their drinks in a friendly silence until Katrina said: ‘They promised to send the things from Harrods straight away…’
Clotilde glanced at her watch. ‘There’s hardly been time,’ she observed mildly, then lifted her head. ‘There’s a car now— I daresay that’ll be the van.’
She had her back to the window and she wouldn’t have seen much, anyway; it was covered by a fine net curtaining and draped with chintz curtains drawn back with cords. There were muffled sounds from the hall, but the door was thick, it wasn’t until it was opened and James walked in that Clotilde saw who it was.
He said placidly: ‘Hullo—have I kept you waiting? I got held up on the way back.’ He helped himself to a drink and sat down in a great wing-backed chair opposite Clotilde. He looked across at her and smiled.
‘Have you had an exhausting morning? Kitty’s a holy terror to go shopping with.’
‘It was fun,’ and Clotilde, saying it, realised that it had been fun; just for a little while she had been free of sadness and worries, and Katrina was a delightful companion. ‘I enjoyed it.’
‘Good. I suppose the house is stuffed with your parcels, Kitty?’
‘I had a good morning and bought everything I wanted,’ replied his sister happily. ‘I’ll go home tomorrow and pack my lovely new clothes and wear them in Leyden, and everyone will say how smart I look.’ She grinned disarmingly. ‘And you will miss me, dear James?’
His firm mouth quivered. ‘Oh, yes, indeed I shall. It will be so quiet.’ He turned his head as the door opened as a large Great Dane lumbered in, acknowledged Clotilde’s friendly hand on his head with a wag of his tail and then flopped down at the doctor’s feet.
‘He’s tired,’ declared Katrina. ‘He must have been up early—what time did you leave, James?’
‘Just before seven o’clock.’
‘All that way,’ observed his sister ‘just to prod someone in the stomach and give a weighty opinion that it’s indigestion!’
‘How right,’ agreed the doctor amiably, ‘only unfortunately it wasn’t indigestion.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘If lunch is ready, could we start? I’m due at St Alma’s in just under the hour.’
And at the end of that meal, as he got up to go, he said casually: ‘I’ll be home for dinner—stay and dine with us, Clotilde, I’ll drive you back to St Alma’s afterwards.’
He paused at the door just long enough for her to say yes. Just as though she were an old family friend, a frequenter of his home, someone who knew all about him—and she knew next to nothing. Was this delightful house his, she wondered, or rented, fully furnished, for as long as he needed it, and where in Dorset did his parents live, and what exactly did Katrina do at Leyden? She could at least find that out.
‘Me?’ queried Katrina, looking surprised. ‘Oh, don’t you know? I’m studying Economics.’ She giggled. ‘James says it’s very appropriate because I’m extravagant! But I do love clothes, don’t you? Let’s go up to my room and have a look at what I’ve bought.’
The two of them spent a pleasant afternoon. Clotilde curled up on the bed while Katrina tried on one thing after the other, then later they went downstairs again and had tea round the fire and talked again until the doctor’s measured footfall, and his voice saying something to Mrs Brice, disturbed them. A moment later he put his head round the door.
‘Pour me a drink, Kitty, will you? I’ll be down in ten minutes.’
He looked tired, Clotilde thought, when he joined them, but immaculate. She had never seen him otherwise, and he was his usual placid self, wanting to know how they had spent their afternoon and when she asked him if he had been busy, answering her with a casual ‘So-so,’ which made her feel she shouldn’t have asked. She coloured a little and looked up to find him watching her, and said the first thing to enter her head.
‘This is a charming house.’ Her voice came out rather high and too fast and he smiled faintly.
‘I was lucky to find it, it’s nicely in the centre of things without being noisy. I go down to Dorset whenever I can spare the time. My home is just outside Shaftesbury— Ashmore, a very small village indeed, but a delightful one.’
‘Tilly must come and stay next time I’m home,’ declared Katrina. She sat up straight looking pleased. ‘Better still, I’ve got a super idea— James, you’re coming to fetch me for the Christmas holiday, aren’t you? Can’t you bring Tilly with you? I want her to see Leyden.’
She looked at her brother; his blue eyes were looking very intently into hers and after a moment he smiled slowly. ‘What a very good idea—that is if Clotilde would like to come…?’
They both turned to look at her and he said: ‘Could you get three or four days off?’ and then in a resigned voice: ‘I do beg of you to agree, Clotilde, or Kitty will pester me for ever—she’s utterly spoilt, you know.’
‘Do say you will!’ Kitty turned her imploring gaze on Clotilde. ‘I promise you you won’t be bored. James can go off with some of his dreary old professor friends and I can show you Leyden.’
Clotilde was aware of a vague wish that James might ditch his learned friends and show her the town as well. ‘It sounds great fun,’ she said carefully. ‘Could I let you know? Off duty you understand, and if the ward’s busy…’
‘A sensible suggestion,’ declared the doctor smoothly, so that for one moment she wondered if he was going to squash the whole idea after all. ‘Although I did suggest to you that if you were to go away for a few days it might help you to make up your mind about changing jobs; there are vacancies for trained nurses in Holland, you know.’ He put down his glass and sat pulling at George’s silky ears, looking at her
‘Well, it would be very nice…’
‘That’s settled, then. I’ll let you know the dates next time I see you, Clotilde.’
She wasn’t given the chance to think it over or have doubts or even be a little annoyed at his high-handed assurance that she would agree to his suggestion. They went into the dining room, oak-panelled and not too large, with its oval mahogany table and Sheraton sideboard, thick velvet curtains shutting out the chilly evening, and the talk skimmed lightly over unimportant topics which firmly shut out serious conversation.
They went back to the sitting room for their coffee and sat, still talking idly, until Clotilde looked at the bracket clock in a niche in the wall.
‘It’s almost eleven o’clock!’ she exclaimed. ‘My goodness, I’ve been here hours too long— I’m so sorry, you must be wishing me to Jericho.’ She looked at the doctor. ‘And you’ve had a long day too.’
‘But the last few hours of it very pleasantly spent.’
‘What a shame that I have to go back,’ began Katrina. ‘James dear, could you possibly…?’
‘No, child, I couldn’t, nor would I if I could. You only have another two terms, and you know how pleased Mother will be if you get a degree.’
‘Oh, well, yes, I suppose so. But you will come to Holland, won’t you, Tilly, promise?’
Clotilde nodded. ‘Yes, I’d love to see you again, and it’s been a lovely day.’
In the car presently she said: ‘Katrina’s a dear girl, isn’t she? I expect she’s clever too?’
‘Not very—just bright enough to scrape through her exams. Thank you for keeping her company today.’ James swung the Bentley through the hospital entrance and got out to open her door, but when she would have wished him goodnight he went with her into the hospital. ‘I’ve a patient to see—one of yours, admitted last night, and don’t thin
k I’m going to give you her diagnosis here and now, because I’m not, but I promised Mary Evans that I’d come in again and take a look…she’ll be waiting for me.’
So it was Mary Evans, was it? Well, the wretched girl had been trying hard enough to catch his eye, thought Clotilde waspishly. She thanked him for her lift, wished him goodnight in the cool voice she used when showing consultants off her ward, and left him. She was halfway to the Home when she found herself wishing she had been rather warmer in her manner. After all, what business of hers was it if he was on friendly terms with his house doctor? Indeed, she told herself with undue briskness, she should be glad. What was more, she would try and like Dr Evans; she wasn’t unattractive in a dim sort of way, if only she didn’t gape at him in such a silly fashion. Though perhaps he rather liked that; to have someone gazing at one with adoring eyes and listening to every single word one said. For the first time in weeks Clotilde didn’t give Bruce a thought, and although she did think of her mother and father it was with a gentle sadness which held no pain.
Of course, the next morning, all her problems came crowding back into her head. True, for the moment at least they were solved, but not her own future. James had said let things ride for a bit and she didn’t think she would be able to do that. Before Christmas she must make up her mind and then stick to it. She ate her breakfast hurriedly and went on to the ward, to find it even busier than when she had left it two days ago. They had the same hard core of elderly chest and heart cases who were still in their beds, of course, but there were several new ones in various stages of illness, as well as several patients who had relapsed unexpectedly. The morning went in a welter of hard work and so did the afternoon. Dr Thackery had visited the ward while Clotilde was at lunch, too, which for some reason annoyed her, although Sally had dealt quite competently with his requirements and noted his instructions. Getting the details from her staff nurse, she asked: ‘Was Dr Evans there too?’
Sally gave her a surprised look; she had been half way through an intake and output chart and obviously Sister Collins hadn’t been listening. ‘Yes, she was, making sheep’s eyes and calling him Sir with every breath. She’s had her hair permed, and I swear she’s wearing a padded bra. She needs it too!’
Just for a split second they weren’t sister and staff nurse, engrossed in medical matters, but young ladies with highly satisfactory curves of their own, exchanging satisfied glances, mingled with pity for Dr Evans who hadn’t any curves to speak of.
They smiled, then Clotilde asked: ‘About Mrs Gregson’s false teeth—have they been found? She’s very absent-minded, you know, she leaves them all over the place. Get the nurses on another search, will you?’
Dr Evans came on to the ward just before tea time. ‘Dr Thackery wants a blood sugar done on Mrs Dent,’ she told Clotilde without bothering to say hullo. ‘I suppose I’ll have to cope on my own?’
‘I’m afraid so.’ Clotilde, mindful of her good intentions, made her voice friendly, at the same time looking at the hair; definitely permed and unless she was very mistaken, tinted. And Sally had been quite right about the bra.
Dr Evans turned away. ‘Oh, I’ll manage,’ she said ungraciously, and then with a swift glance at Clotilde: ‘I shall be seeing Dr Thackery this evening, anyway—for drinks.’
And blood samples? thought Clotilde naughtily, blood sugars in one hand and gin and tonic in the other? She watched the doctor walk down the ward and wondered what James could see in her. The thought nagged at her several times, but she had too much to do to give it any attention.
She went off duty at six o’clock an hour late, but since she didn’t intend to do anything that evening, she didn’t particularly mind. She would wash her hair and have a long, very hot bath, make tea and toast over in the Home, and go to bed with the day’s newspapers. She was almost at the bottom of the staircase when she met Dr Thackery coming up, two at a time.
He stopped when he reached her and she perforce stopped too.
‘You’re late off duty. I phoned the Home and they said you were still on the ward. Anything urgent?’
She shook her head. ‘No, just work. Mrs Dent’s better… Dr Evans has taken a blood sugar.’ She watched his face; it was as calm as always, but of course he wasn’t a man to show his feelings.
He said in an absentminded manner: ‘Good, good. Could we have a meal together? To get this trip to Leyden sorted out. In an hour, or is that rushing you?’
‘Not me, but won’t it rush you? Dr Evans told me she was having drinks with you.’
His heavy lids open and she saw how very bright blue his eyes were.
‘The devil— I’d forgotten! It’s Jeff Saunders’ birthday and he’s asked most of the medical staff to have drinks with him in the common room. I don’t need to stay for more than half an hour, though…’ He looked at her in a puzzled way. ‘Why on earth am I having drinks with Mary Evans? It’s the last thing I want to do.’
‘Is it?’ asked Clotilde happily. ‘Well, that’s what she said, so naturally I thought…’
‘If you thought that you’re out of your mind, my girl. Now go and put on something pretty and we’ll go to a pub.’
She assumed that James’ idea of a pub might not be the same as Bruce’s had been, so she played safe with a wool dress and the fur jacket her father had given her for the previous Christmas. And just as well, because he took her to Le Gavroche, which wasn’t a pub at all, but a very upper-crust French restaurant.
He seemed in no hurry to discuss the trip to Leyden and she was content to enjoy the desultory talk, but over coffee he said: ‘About Leyden, can you manage four days off?’ He gave her the dates and she nodded.
‘Yes, I think so— I’ll take two week’s days off together; it’ll be a weekend, won’t it? How do we go?’
‘Drive down to Dover and cross to Calais.’
‘Oh,’ she visualised a map of France, ‘really? Surely that’s miles from Leyden? And do we go by train from there? Isn’t it rather a long way?’
‘We’ll drive up,’ he told her, and didn’t offer any more information than that, leaving her speculating as to whether the Bentley went with them on the ferry—surely not? But of course cars went on the ferries and it would be far quicker. Having settled that point she ventured further.
‘Do I stay with Katrina?’ She asked.
‘My grandparents live near Leyden—they’ll be delighted to have you.’ He added: ‘Katrina spends a lot of time with them.’
And you’ll be with your friends?’
‘The dreary old professors?’ He laughed a little. ‘We usually get together.’
‘You’re quite sure Katrina wants me to come? After all, we’ve only known each other a very short time.’
He smiled at her. ‘Kitty phoned me this afternoon to remind me to see you about the trip and make sure that you were coming.’
‘Oh, of course—how nice of her.’ Clotilde smiled back and spoke lightly, wondering at the same time why the idea that he had asked her out in order to carry out Katrina’s wishes and not for reasons of his own should depress her. She added in a voice of calm good sense: ‘Is there anything else I should know about the journey? I have a passport—shall I want Dutch money?’
‘Don’t bother for those few days—if you want to buy anything I’ll let you have the gulden and you can pay me later.’
‘You’re very kind.’ She hesitated and then voiced the question which had been at the back of her mind, nagging her. ‘James, you’re not asking me because—well, because you’re sorry for me?’ She had grown rather pink, but she gave him a straight look.
‘No, that hadn’t occurred to me.’ He spoke calmly and she believed him.
‘Oh, good—you don’t mind me asking? I— I had to know…’
‘I don’t mind in the least. I should hope that by now we’re able to be frank with each other. Do you skate, by the way? It might be cold enough in Holland.’
They talked trivialities after that until Clotilde
said she would really have to get back to St Alma’s. ‘I’m on in the morning,’ she reminded him, ‘and it’s your round, and you’ve no idea of the hustle and bustle that goes on until the moment you open the doors…’
‘And you say “Good morning, sir” with a calm which I now know is grossly deceptive. Probably the last protesting patient has just been thrust willynilly back into bed.’
Clotilde giggled. As a matter of fact, it is rather like that—not always, but we have a lot of fraught moments.’
He drove her back presently and they bade each other a friendly goodnight at the hospital entrance. They would see each other on the ward in the morning, thought Clotilde, but that wasn’t the same and he hadn’t suggested meeting again. Probably she wouldn’t see him to speak to as a friend before they went to Holland. Oh, well, she consoled herself as she made her way over to the home, that wasn’t so far off.
She had a nasty feeling in her bones as she went on duty the next morning that the day wouldn’t go well, and she was right. The junior night nurse had gone off sick during the night and there had not been anyone to replace her, so that the night staff nurse had left a good many of the humbler chores not done. Clotilde couldn’t blame her; she had done the best she could, but there was a good deal of extra work to get through before the consultant’s round, added to which two specimens which had been specially asked for had been thrown out by an over-enthusiastic junior nurse. Two of the more excitable ladies were then sick the moment they had clean sheets on their beds, and Mrs Gregson’s teeth were missing yet again. Somehow they scrambled through the morning’s work and Clotilde, outwardly serene but busy rehearsing a conciliatory speech about the specimens, whipped to the door just as Dr Thackery walked in.
He greeted her exactly as he always did, with polite impersonal friendliness, and she replied in the same manner before wishing the various members of his entourage a good morning. They all answered her except Dr Evans, who scowled and muttered, but since Dr Thackery was already advancing to his first patient he missed that and began at once to enquire of the lady in the bed how she was feeling.