by Betty Neels
Charles didn’t stay long, and on his way out he paused by her desk.
‘Did anyone ever tell you that you have very beautiful eyes? The rest of you is probably charming, though hardly breathtaking, but the eyes…!’
He bent down and kissed the end of her nose.
‘Till we meet again,’ he told her, and reached the door in time to hold it open for the first patient.
No one had ever told Loveday that her eyes were beautiful. She savoured that for the rest of the day and tried to forget his remark about not being breathtaking. It had been so long since anyone had passed a remark about her appearance that she found it hard to ignore.
That evening, getting ready for bed, she examined her face carefully. ‘Hardly breathtaking’ was a kind way of saying plain…
All the same she took extra pains with her face and hair in the morning, and made plans to buy a new dress on Saturday afternoon.
If she had hoped to see Charles the next day she was disappointed. There was no sign of him, and Dr Fforde, beyond his usual pleasant greeting, had nothing to say. All the same, she spent Saturday afternoon searching for a dress. It had to be something that would last. She found it after much searching: a navy blue wool crêpe, well cut and elegant, with the kind of neckline which could be dressed up by a pretty scarf. She bore it back and tried it on with Sam for a rather bored audience.
And on Monday morning she wore it to work.
Dr Fforde, wishing her his usual pleasant good morning noticed it immediately. It was undoubtedly suitable for her job, but it hardly enhanced her appearance. Her pretty mousy hair and those green eyes should be complemented by rich greens and russet, not buried in navy blue. He thought it unlikely that she had many friends, and perhaps none close enough to point this out to her. A pity. He sat down at his desk and started to go through his post. It was Charles who voiced this same opinion when he came again during the week. He sauntered in after the last of the morning patients had gone and stopped at her desk.
‘A new dress’, he said as he eyed her up and down in a friendly fashion. ‘In excellent taste too, dear girl, but why hide your charms behind such a middle-aged colour? You should be wearing pink and blue and emerald-green, and all the colours of the rainbow…’
‘Not if she is to remain my receptionist,’ said the doctor from his door, so that Loveday’s wide smile at the sight of Charles was quenched. She contrived to look faintly amused, although her eyes sparkled green fire. The phone rang then and she turned to answer it, and the two men went into the consulting room together.
She had been delighted to see Charles, and although he didn’t like the new dress he had said it was hiding her charms—which sounded old-fashioned but pleasant. And then Dr Fforde had to spoil it all. Who knew what Charles would have said if they had been left alone?
Loveday, a level-headed girl, realised that she was behaving in a way quite unlike her usual self-contained self. ‘Which won’t do,’ she muttered as the phone rang again. And no one could have looked more efficient and at the same time inconspicuous than she did as Dr Fforde and Charles came into the room again.
‘I shall be at the hospital until five o’clock,’ the doctor told her. ‘Have the afternoon off, but please be here by half past four.’
So Loveday had a leisurely lunch and decided to do some more shopping. She didn’t need much, but she seldom had the chance to go out during the day and it was a bright day even if chilly. She got into her jacket—navy blue again, and bought to last—and with her shopping basket over one arm went out.
She had only gone a few yards down the street when she met Charles.
He took her arm. ‘How about a walk in the park and tea? It’s a splendid afternoon for exercise.’
She didn’t try to conceal her pleasure at seeing him again. ‘It sounds lovely, but I’m going shopping.’
‘You can shop any day of the week.’ He had tucked one arm into hers. ‘Half an hour’s brisk walk, then tea, and then if you must shop…’
‘I have to be back by half past four.’
‘Yes, yes. That’s almost three hours away.’
He was laughing at her and, despite her good resolutions, she smiled back. ‘A walk would be nice…’
He was an amusing companion and, bored with having nothing much to do for the moment, he found it intriguing to attract this rather sedate girl who had no idea how to make the most of herself. He had charm and a light-hearted way of talking, uncaring that he rarely meant a word of what he uttered. Those who knew him well joined in his cheerful banter and didn’t take it seriously, but Loveday wasn’t to know that…
He took her to a small café near the park, plied her with cream cakes and called her dear girl, and when they parted outside the consulting rooms he begged her to see him again. He touched the tip of her nose very gently as he spoke and his smile was such that she agreed at once.
‘But I’m only free on Saturday afternoons and Sundays.’
‘Sunday it shall be. We will drive into the country and walk and talk and eat at some village pub.’ He turned away. ‘Ten o’clock?’
‘He didn’t wait for her reply, which just for a moment she found disturbing, but she brushed that aside. A day out in his company would be lovely.
Dr Fforde, coming back just before five o’clock, wondered what had given Loveday a kind of inner glow; she was no longer insignificant, and her ordinary face was alight with happiness.
He asked, ‘You enjoyed your afternoon?’
‘Yes, thank you, Doctor.’ Her beaming smile included him in her happiness, and for some reason that made him uneasy.
At breakfast on Sunday morning, Loveday explained to Sam that she would be away for the day. ‘Well, most of it, I hope.’ She added, ‘But I won’t be late home.’ She kissed his elderly head. ‘Be a good boy.’
Charles had said a drive into the country and a village pub. Her jacket and a skirt would be quite suitable; she would wear her good shoes and the pale blue sweater…
She was ready and waiting when she heard the silence of the quiet street disturbed by the prolonged blowing of his car’s horn. She reached his car just as he was about to blow it again. ‘Oh, hush,’ she begged him. ‘It’s Sunday morning.’
He had looked faintly impatient, but now he laughed. ‘So it is and we have the whole day before us.’ He leaned across and opened the car door. ‘Jump in.’
His car was a sports model, scarlet and flashy. She suppressed the instant thought that Dr Fforde’s car was more to her liking and settled down beside Charles.
‘It’s a lovely morning,’ she began.
‘Marvellous, darling, but don’t chatter until we are out of London.’
So she sat quietly, happy just to be there, sitting beside him, leaving the streets and rows of houses behind for a few hours.
He drove south, through Sevenoaks, and she wondered where they were going. They were well clear of London by now, but he had nothing much to say until he asked suddenly, ‘Have you any idea where we’re going?’
‘No, except that it’s south—towards the coast.’
‘Brighton, darling. Plenty to do and see there.’
She had expected a day in the country—he had mentioned a country pub. Surely Brighton wasn’t much different from London? But what did it matter where they went? She was happy in his company and he made her laugh…
He parked at the seafront and they had coffee and then walked, first by the sea and then through the town, stopping to look at the shop windows in the Lanes. Charles promised her that the next time they came he would take her to the Pavilion. They had lunch in a fashionable pub and then walked again, and if it wasn’t quite what she had expected it didn’t really matter. She was having a lovely day out and Charles was a delightful companion, teasing her a little, letting her see that he liked her, and telling her that he had never met a girl quite like her before. Loveday, hopelessly ignorant of the fashionable world, believed every word of it.
They d
rove back to London after a splendid tea in one of the seafront hotels.
‘Do you come here often?’ Loveday wanted to know.
Charles gave her his charming smile. ‘Never with such a delightful companion.’ He might have added, And only because here I’m most unlikely to meet anyone I know. He wasn’t doing any harm, he told himself. Loveday led a dull life; what could be kinder than to give her a taste of romance? And it would keep him amused for the next few weeks…
She was a dear little thing, he reflected as they drove back, but too quiet and dull for him. It amused him to see how she blossomed under his attention.
‘We must do this again,’ he told her. ‘I’ll be away next weekend, but there’s a good film we might go to see one evening. Wednesday. I’ll come for you about half past seven.’
‘I’d like that, thank you,’ she said. And, Loveday being Loveday, she added, ‘I won’t need to dress up? I haven’t anything smart to wear.’
‘No, no. You look very nice.’
He turned his head to smile at her. She was wearing something dull and unflattering, but the cinema he had in mind was well away from his usual haunts and he wasn’t likely to see anyone who knew him.
He didn’t get out of the car when they got back, but kissed her cheek and told her what a marvellous day it had been and then drove away before she had the key in the door. He had cut things rather fine; he had barely an hour in which to change for the evening.
Loveday climbed the stairs to the flat, to be met by an impatient Sam. She fed him and made a pot of tea before sitting down to drink it while she told him about her day. ‘He’s so nice,’ she told Sam. ‘He makes me laugh, and he makes me feel pretty and amusing although I know I’m not. We’re going out again on Wednesday evening and I wish I had some pretty clothes to wear. He said it doesn’t matter but I’d like to look my best for him. He notices what I’m wearing.’ She sighed. ‘Dr Fforde doesn’t even see me—not as a girl, that is, only as his receptionist. And why I should think of him, I don’t know.’
She was wrong, of course. Dr Fforde, coming to his rooms on Monday morning, at once saw the inner glow in Loveday’s face and the sparkle in her eyes.
CHAPTER THREE
THE doctor bade her good morning and paused long enough to ask her if she had had a good weekend. ‘You have friends to visit?’ he wanted to know.
‘Me? No. I hadn’t time to make friends when I was with Miss Cattell,’ she told him cheerfully.
So who or what had given her ordinary face that happy look? He went into his consulting room, thinking about it. It would hardly do for him to ask her how she spent her spare time, although he had a strong inclination to know that. Besides, it would be difficult to ask because her manner towards him had a distinct tinge of reserve. Probably she thought him too elderly to have an interest in her private life. A man approaching forty must seem middle-aged to a girl in her twenties.
He sat down to open his post and glanced up briefly when she came in with his coffee. The happy look was still there…
It seemed to Loveday that Wednesday took a long time in coming, and when it did she was in a fever of impatience; the last patient of the afternoon was elderly, nervous and inclined to want her own way, demanding a good deal of attention from the nurse and then sitting down again to repeat her symptoms once again to a patient Dr Fforde.
It was long after five when Loveday ushered her out, and it was almost an hour later when the nurse and Dr Fforde had gone too and she was at last ready to leave herself.
She sped up to the flat, fed an impatient Sam, made tea for herself and gobbled a sandwich left over from her lunch. She was hungry, but that was a small price to pay for an evening with Charles. She showered, changed into the jacket, skirt and a cream silk blouse, did her face with unusual care, brushed her mousy hair smooth and decided against her only hat. At least her shoes and handbag were good, even if they were no longer new.
She glanced out of the window; he would be here at any moment and he had been impatient on Sunday. She gave Sam a hug, locked up and hurried down to the street. She was just in time as Charles drew up.
He leaned over and opened the car door. ‘There you are, darling. How clever of you to know that I hate being kept waiting.’ When she had settled into the seat beside him he dropped a careless kiss on her cheek. She really was quite a taking little thing; it was a pity she dressed in such a dull fashion.
The film was just released, a triumph of modern cinema and Loveday, who hadn’t been to the cinema for a long time, enjoyed it. When it ended and they had reached his car her heart lifted when he said, ‘A drink and something to eat? It’s still early.’
Eleven o’clock at night was late for her, now that she no longer had to keep the erratic hours Miss Cattell’s household were obliged to put up with, and she had been going to her bed well before eleven. But she cast good sense to the winds and agreed.
To be disappointed. She was hungry, but Charles, it seemed, had dined earlier that evening, so ‘drinks’ were indifferent coffee and a bowl of nuts and tiny cheese biscuits in the bar of a nearby hotel. Not the usual hotel Charles frequented, and he made no attempt to dally over them. Loveday could see that he was anxious to be gone, and since she was by now as attracted to him as he had intended, she declared that she should go back to the flat.
‘It’s been a lovely evening,’ she told him, ‘and thank you for taking me.’
‘My dearest girl, the pleasure was all mine.’ He stopped before the consulting rooms, leaned across to open her door and then put an arm around her to kiss her. A sweet little thing, he reflected, but he was becoming the littlest bit bored with her. All the same he said, ‘We must have another day out soon.’
He drove off, leaving her on the pavement. Loveday, unlocking the door, told herself that he must have had an urgent reason to rush away like that, and drowned the thought in the prospect of another day out with him.
‘I have never been so happy,’ she told Sam, eating her late supper of scrambled eggs on toast. And she was sure that she was. A nameless, niggling doubt at the back of her mind was easily lost in the remembrance of his kiss.
She made a mistake in the case notes in the morning, and forgot to give Dr Fforde a message from the hospital. Not an urgent one, but all the same there had been no excuse for forgetting it—except that she had been thinking of Charles.
The doctor accepted her apology with a nod and said nothing, but back in his home that evening he sat for a long time thinking about it.
Loveday was very careful during the next few days not to make any more mistakes. Never mind her vague dreams of a blissful future; the present was reality—security, a roof over her head, money in her pocket. Her scrupulous attention to her duties and her anxiety to please the doctor he found at first amusing, then puzzling. He didn’t pretend to himself that he wasn’t interested in her, but he was a man of no conceit and found it unlikley that a girl of her age, even if she was as level-headed as Loveday was, would wish to make a friend of a man so much older than she. He could only hope that whoever it was who had brought that look into her face would make her happy.
Charles phoned one morning during the week. Loveday had the place ready, the coffee set for the doctor and everything prepared for the day’s work.
‘Darling,’ said Charles over the phone, ‘I thought we might have a lovely evening on Saturday. Wear a pretty dress; we’ll dine and dance.’
He hung up before she could reply.
It seemed that Saturday would never come. When it did she got up early and went down to the consulting rooms; she set everything to rights ready for Monday before hurrying to get a bus which would take her to Oxford Street.
She had raided her nest egg, shutting her eyes to the fact that she was making a great hole in her secure future, but no one—no man—had ever asked her out to dine and dance before, and certainly not a man such as Charles, so full of fun and so obviously liking her a lot, perhaps even loving her…
/> It took her an hour or two to find what she wanted; a plain sheath of a dress, and well cut, although the material from which it was made was cheap—but the colour was right: a pale bronze which gave her hair colour and flattered her eyes. There was also money enough for shoes, found after much searching on a bargain rail in a cheap shoe shop. They weren’t leather, though they looked as though they were, and they went well with the dress.
She hurried back home with her purchases to give Sam his tea before she boiled an egg and made a pot of tea for herself. Then she began to get ready for the evening. It was a pity that Charles hadn’t said at what time he would call for her…
She was ready far too soon, and sat peering out of the window into the street below. Perhaps he had forgotten…
It was almost eight o’clock when she saw his car stop before the house, and Loveday, being Loveday, with no thought of keeping him waiting or playing hard to get, flew down to the door.
He was sitting in the car, waiting for her, and because she was living for the moment in a delightful dream world of her own his casual manners were unnoticed. She got into the car beside him and he put an arm round her and kissed her lightly.
‘Got that pretty dress?’ he wanted to know, and looked doubtfully at her coat; it was plain and serviceable and obviously not in the height of fashion.
‘Yes.’ She smiled at him. ‘I bought it this morning.’
He had planned the evening carefully: dinner at a small restaurant in Chelsea—smart enough to impress her but hardly likely to entertain anyone he might know—and afterwards there was a dance hall not too far away. It was hardly a place he would consider taking any of his acquaintances, but he suspected that to Loveday it would be the highlight of their evening.
Their table was in the corner of the restaurant, a pleasant enough place, with shaded lights and its dozen or so tables already filled. The food was good too, and he ordered champagne. She could have sat there for ever opposite him, listening to his amusing talk, smiling happily at his admiring glances, but they didn’t linger over dinner.