by Betty Neels
‘I’m sorry,’ said Julia, not sorry at all and at the same time appalled at her own feelings. She should be feeling guilty; spending the evening with Ivo while his Marcia lay in bed, only she didn’t, because she was so very sure that Marcia didn’t love Ivo, and she was almost as sure that Ivo didn’t love Marcia, only perhaps he hadn’t realised it yet. She said now, ‘You managed very well by yourself yesterday—perhaps you were a little nervous.’
Marcia picked up her book. ‘I’m never nervous,’ she stated repressively. ‘Now I’m sure you want to go to bed; you must be tired.’
‘Not a bit,’ said Julia comfortably. ‘How can enjoying oneself make one tired? The film was delightful, you know, after these peculiar modern ones. I’ll go and get ready for bed and then come back in case you might want something.’
But when she went back in half an hour’s time, Marcia’s light was out.
It was the following evening when Ivo broached the subject of Christmas. ‘Shall we give our usual party?’ he asked Jorina. ‘Christmas Eve, I think, don’t you? Marcia will be able to enjoy it.’ He turned to look at her. ‘You might even like to dance a few steps.’
‘Naturally I shall do my best to enter into the spirit of Christmas,’ Marcia was at her most gracious. ‘And if you ask me, Ivo, I’m sure I’ll have the strength to take a few steps of a slow foxtrot.’
Julia kept her eyes on the cloth she was embroidering; someone ought to tell her patient that the slow foxtrot wasn’t often danced these days. No one did; Ivo said merely in his kind way, ‘That will be delightful. And what about shopping? I’m sure you are well enough to come into Tilburg with me one day and choose your presents. It will only be a question of crossing the pavement from the car to the shop. We could manage that—better still, let us take Julia with us to make it easier for you.’
Julia chose a strand of silk with care, threaded her needle and took a few stitches, waiting for Marcia’s reply.
‘Oh, presents—I’d almost forgotten about them. Am I really strong enough? It would be very pleasant, provided you don’t let me get tired.’ She laughed her little tinkling laugh. ‘How silly I am to say that, for you wouldn’t do that, would you, Ivo?’
‘No, certainly not, I’ve had too much to do with polio cases.’
And that, thought Julia judiciously, wasn’t what Marcia had meant at all. She said aloud, ‘Yes, of course I’ll come if you think it would help at all. It might save Miss Jason unnecessary fuss if I hold the parcels and so on.’
So it was arranged, and an afternoon two days ahead was set aside for the expedition, giving Marcia, as Julia pointed out, plenty of time to decide what she wanted to buy.
Mijnheer de Winter came the next morning while everyone but Julia was out. She left him sitting with Marcia and went to fetch him some coffee, as they had just had theirs. Marcia had greeted him with unconcealed pleasure; apparently she still lived in the days when servants—and Julia had no doubt in her mind that she ranked as that in her patient’s eyes—were like furniture, neither seeing nor hearing. Julia went slowly down to the kitchen, her thoughts centred on the look Marcia had exchanged with her visitor and the length of their handclasp. She poured the coffee, put it on a tray and bore it upstairs, wondering as she went what Ivo thought of this odd friendship. He didn’t strike her as the kind of man who would take kindly to playing second fiddle to anyone else, especially when it concerned the woman he was going to marry. She loitered on the landing, struck by the thought that she had never actually heard him say that he was going to marry Marcia. Nor, for that matter, had Marcia said so, although she had been quick enough to let Julia know that was what she expected.
Julia took in the rapidly cooling coffee, set it tidily on the table by Mijnheer de Winter’s chair and retired to the desk in the window where she kept her charts and reports, but she had barely reached it when Marcia said gently, ‘Oh, Nurse, do go and have half an hour to yourself. I shall be quite all right, and you must have so much to do.’
Julia went downstairs again; contrary to her patient’s supposition she had nothing to do. She began to wander round the hall, studying the pictures. She was outstaring the penetrating and beady black eyes of a tyrannical old lady in a plum-coloured dress with a bustles, when the front door opened and Ivo came in. Her first sensation was one of delight at seeing him, the second of apprehension in case he went bounding upstairs before she had a chance to mention—oh, so casually—that Mijnheer de Winter had got there first. He cast his coat down rather untidily on the nearest chair, said hullo and then, ‘I had no idea that my appearance had the power to make you look like that.’
‘Like what?’ asked Julia, playing for time.
‘As though I’d caught you in the middle of some heinous crime. Have I?’
Julia laughed hollowly. ‘No, of course not. You surprised me.’
He was standing just inside the door, and although his eyes were neither black nor beady, it was obvious that the old lady with the bustle had handed on the penetrating stare.
‘Whose car is that outside?’ he asked.
She should have been ready for that question; instead she uttered,
‘Well—that is…’
He put his hands in his pockets and leaned comfortably against the wall, all day at his disposal. ‘Do tell,’ he invited silkily.
‘Of course I’ll tell,’ she said crossly. ‘It’s no secret—it’s Mijnheer de Winter’s.’
He repeated the name. ‘Do I know him?’ he inquired.
‘How should I know?’ snapped Julia, getting more and more cross. If only the wretched little man would come downstairs and answer Ivo’s questions for himself!
‘Visiting Marcia?’ Ivo’s voice was very smooth. ‘In that case I’ll go up and see for myself, since you’re so charmingly ill-tempered and secretive.’
He went upstairs unhurriedly without giving her time to answer, which was just as well, because she had nothing to say. She didn’t think he was going to like Marcia’s visitor, nor was he going to like Marcia forgetting to mention his visits, especially as she harped continuously upon her loneliness—almost, it had seemed to Julia, reproaching Ivo with it. She went into the kitchen and put the coffee on again, then wandered round the house, not quite liking to go upstairs but wondering if it would help if she did. She had just made up her mind to do so when she heard steps on the staircase and Ivo’s voice, speaking with the icy civility of a well-mannered man determined not to show his illhumour. The front door opened and shut and a moment later Ivo lounged through the kitchen door.
‘What a detestable fellow,’ he remarked. ‘No wonder you didn’t want me to meet him.’ He shot her a sudden fierce glance. ‘And it seems that I knew all about him, or so. Marcia told me just now.’
Julia said quickly, ‘I daresay if you were busy you might have forgotten—it’s not important, is it—and if you had other things on your mind…’
‘I had nothing important on my mind until a short time ago, and I should make it plain to you that I seldom forget anything which I am told.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Aren’t you going to offer me some coffee?’
She had a cup with him, there in the kitchen while he told that he was unexpectedly free because the surgeon who was to have taken the list had ‘flu.
‘Do you have a list this afternoon?’ asked Julia.
‘In Breda, yes. A pity you aren’t free, I’d take you with me.’
She had been unable to prevent the look of pleasure on her face, although she said quietly enough, ‘That would have been pleasant, but I think it’s a bit too far for Miss Jason, don’t you?’ and instantly wished she hadn’t said it because his face hardened into a grimness which she couldn’t bear to see. Before she could stop herself she asked impulsively, ‘Can I help, Ivo—is—is something the matter?’
He passed his coffee cup, his face once more smoothly bland. ‘You’re the last one to help me, dear girl,’ he said lightly. ‘Is there any more coffee?’
She fe
lt snubbed. She supposed he had fallen out with his Marcia, in which case, she thought crossly, it was his own affair. She left him to his coffee and went upstairs to her patient, who looked up as she went in and said with a roguish smile, ‘There you are, nurse. Oh dear, how awkward that Ivo should come home while August was here. I’m sure he’s not a jealous man—no more than any man would be in the circumstances,’ she simpered at Julia, who felt sick, wondering how Ivo could bear the girl, ‘but I must tell you a little secret, just between us girls. I’ve never mentioned Aug—Mijnheer de Winter to Ivo, there seemed no need, so I pretended that I had written and told him about his visits. I flatter myself that my quick thinking saved the situation.’ She smiled, her eyes wary. ‘Don’t you agree?’
‘No,’ said Julia instantly, ‘I don’t. I can’t think why you should have to tell a lie about something so trivial. Jorina thinks that Ivo knows about him too, so you must have told her the same tale—you ever said something of the sort to me. I can’t see any reason for deceit.’
She crossed the room and picked up Marcia’s walking stick and handed it to her silently. It was more than likely that her patient would dismiss her on the spot. She did no such thing, however. ‘One can see, Nurse Pennyfeather,’ she said archly, ‘that you’ve never been in love.’
Julia resisted an impulse to give her patient a poke with the stick where it would hurt most. She was a little tired of being patronised by someone so foolishly out of date as Miss Jason.
‘Are you engaged to Ivo?’ she asked, and was astonished at herself for asking it.
Marcia looked outraged; Julia, watching her, thought that her pale prettiness masked a petty nature and that none of her feelings, good or bad, ran deep.
‘My dear nurse, that’s rather a personal matter, but since you have made it your business to ask, we have an understanding—before Ivo went to Edinburgh, indeed, before I was stricken down.’
Julia felt rage and sorrow working strongly under her neat uniform; she damped them down firmly. ‘In that case,’ she said briskly, ‘it’s a very good thing that you aren’t stricken any longer. Another few weeks and you should be ready to go down the aisle.’
Marcia cast her a well-bred look of loathing. ‘Nurse Pennyfeather, I don’t care for vulgar remarks such as that.’
‘Vulgar?’ asked Julia, the bit well between her nice regular white teeth. ‘What’s vulgar about getting married? Now, if I’d proposed getting you fit enough to live in sin…’
Miss Jason, forgetting that she was still a semi-invalid walked quite briskly across the room. She hissed: ‘You coarse, over-blown creature!’
‘I feel sure you will apologise, Marcia,’ said Ivo from the door. His voice was steely, so were his eyes. ‘I am aware that you did not mean that, but if it was a joke, you’ll be the first to agree with me that it was in very poor taste.’
Julia kept her back to him. ‘It’s quite all right,’ she said matter-of-factly, ‘Miss Jason was—was joking. Did you see how well she walked across the room without her stick?’ She added a little breathlessly: ‘It was my fault—I was joking about your wedding, and I had no right to do it.’
She swung round to face him and was shocked at the dark look on his face, although his voice was calm enough. ‘In that case, you can cry quits, I imagine. Yes, Marcia, saw you walking—how clever of you to keep it a secret from us all. Another few days and you will be fit to travel.’
Marcia said quickly in a small soft voice, ‘Oh, Ivo, I couldn’t possibly do it again. I can’t think what happened, but I feel so weak and helpless now.’ Whereupon Julia, her feelings still much inflamed, put down the stick and said in a well-controlled voice,
‘In that case, I’m sure the doctor will be only too glad to help you—I’ll go on down and get your chair ready.’
She smiled bleakly at them both and whisked through the door without waiting for them to answer.
Lunch was a little difficult. Julia, who would have preferred to have gone to her room and had a good cry, did her best, but Marcia remained stonily polite, answering when she was spoken to but making no remarks of her own volition; in anyone else it would be sulking, but somehow she managed to convey a sad air of dolour which effectively damped everyone’s efforts to keep the conversation light. Julia rose from the table with a sense of relief, and having seen her patient settled for the afternoon in the sitting room, begged to be excused. It was time for her three hours’ freedom—she intended taking a long walk; the exercise would tire her out nicely and at the same time allow her to think. She flung on her clothes with little regard to her appearance and flew downstairs and out of the door straight into Ivo, waiting on the other side. He said mildly, ‘I’ll give you a lift. You’re not due back until about five, I gather?’
Julia nodded, twitching her fur bonnet straight and tugging on her gloves. ‘But I don’t want a lift—I’m going for a walk.’
As though she were a refractory child, he answered, ‘Oh, nonsense,’ caught her by the arm and marched her to the car and bundled her in briskly, paying no attention when she reiterated, ‘I’m going for a walk,’ but getting in beside her and driving off in the direction of Oisterwijk. It was only when they were through its main street, on the road to Tilburg, that she ventured to ask, ‘Where are we going?’
‘I told you—I’ve a couple of cases in Breda this afternoon.’
She looked at him with something like horror. ‘But that’s miles away!’
‘Your geography is sadly at fault, you’ll have to study a map. Breda is fifteen miles from Tilburg, which we are rapidly approaching. It’s half past one, the list is at two o’clock, so we have plenty of time. Why were you in such a hurry?’
‘I—I wanted some fresh air.’
He was looking straight ahead, driving fast as he always did, with a nonchalance which was deceiving until you looked at the speedometer.
‘I’m sorry Marcia upset you this morning. You must forgive her, she’s been very ill.’
‘It didn’t matter, really it didn’t,’ she found herself protesting too much. ‘She must hate being so inactive.’ As she said it she remembered very clearly how well Marcia had walked across the room, and he had seen it too, although she had been clever enough to pretend it was a flash in the pan. Julia went on quickly, ‘Miss Jason has quite a lot of shopping to do in Tilburg—it should be fun.’
A stupid remark, she thought, and he must have thought so too, for he didn’t bother to reply, but as the outskirts of Breda closed in on them he said suddenly, ‘I think we must plan a really merry Christmas, don’t you? What a pity we can’t keep it up until Twelfth Night, as they used to. What is that poem in English, something about “The first day of Christmas…”’
Julia obliged with a few verses, and when she got to the fifth day, stopped to remark. ‘Five gold rings is a bit much, you know. Where would she wear them?’
‘I shouldn’t think it mattered; obviously her true love wanted to make certain that she knew he loved her.’
‘Oh, well, there couldn’t be much doubt about that, could there?’ said Julia, once more lighthearted. ‘I mean, one ring would be nice, but five—what more could any girl want?’
He didn’t answer because they had stopped by the Casualty entrance at the hospital. ‘Hop out, dear girl,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you to Zuster Bos before I go up to theatre.’
Zuster Bos was middle-aged and round; she had round blue eyes to match her rotund person and a delightful smile. She nodded vigorously to all that Ivo had to say, chuckled, shook Julia by the hand, said in quaintly accented English, ‘Go away, bad boy,’ and turned her attention to her guest.
Casualty was almost empty; the accidents, said Zuster Bos in difficult English helped out with a good deal of miming, were more frequent in the morning when the workers were still sleepy and perhaps a little careless—and the evening, when they were tired.
‘Are you busy here?’ asked Julia, prepared to enjoy herself.
‘The book,’
said Zuster Bos, and led her over to a desk at which a nurse sat writing. She looked up and smiled as they approached and handed over the Day Book, which Julia saw was exactly the same as the one in her own hospital, only the entries were in Dutch. But she could see the number of entries that it was a busy unit and would have enjoyed trying to decipher the various cases, but her mentor plucked her arm and led her to the office where she found herself drinking a cup of coffee and answering, in her turn, a great many questions about her own work. She said politely, ‘Your English is very good Sister,’ and was rewarded by a beaming smile.
‘Yes? I learn in the war—I was young girl, but I nurse…’ She paused, at a loss for a word.
‘Men who escaped?’ tried Julia, and watched the little woman’s brow clear. ‘Yes, they speak no Dutch—I speak English.’ She shrugged her plump shoulders and laughed cosily. It was a pity that at that moment an ambulance should shrill its way to the entrance and she had to go. But not for long. ‘Not bad,’ she announced as she sat down once more, ‘Zuster van Rijk and Zuster Laagemaat can do all. It is,’ she paused again, ‘too much drug.’
‘An overdose?’ Julia guessed. ‘Do you get a lot too? So do we.’
They talked happily together, helping each other when they came to words they didn’t know. They were absorbed in the technique of resuscitation when Ivo came back. Julia watched him walking through Cas to the office. The nurses looked at him as they passed and he greeted them pleasantly without noticing their admiring glances. He looked relaxed and cheerful and very good-looking indeed. Julia turned her face away in case the admiration on her face showed too.
She was sorry to leave Zuster Bos, but as Ivo pointed out, it was already after half past two. He took her round the hospital, as he had promised, strolling from ward to ward where she was greeted more often than not in her own language and with a degree of friendliness she hadn’t expected.