by Betty Neels
She went home for her days off the week before Christmas and found her father, oblivious of the festive season, deep in his armchair, reading. But Bonny had everything in hand. She assured Amelia that there would be a tree as usual, and plenty of holly and mistletoe and an abundance of mince pies for the carol singers when they paid their annual visit. ‘And a pity you can’t be here, Miss Amelia, you oughtn’t to be cooped up in that nasty theatre—it can’t be healthy.’
She eyed Amelia’s well-rounded figure, bursting with good health, with indulgent affection.
Amelia gave her a hug. ‘I’m always covered up,’ she assured her old friend. ‘Besides, I’m not working all the time, you know, I’m going to quite a few parties.’
‘Well, I’m glad to hear it. Will you be coming down at all over the holidays?’
‘I’ll try. The aunts will be here, of course?’
The aunts were her mother’s two sisters, rather formidable elderly ladies who had loved her mother very deeply and now considered it to be their duty to keep an eye on her father. This meant regular visits, tolerated by Bonny and Badger and suffered by her father. Amelia liked them both, much more than the toffee-nosed aunts and cousins who lived in London. ‘I’ll really do my best to come down directly after Christmas,’ she promised, and went along to stir up her father into taking some interest in the giving of presents.
She drove back to London the next day, hating to leave the peace and quiet of her home but glad that she was going to be fully occupied for the next week. And not only with theatre cases; off-duty times were taken up with helping the medical students get their costumes for the annual hospital concert. This was a traditional thing. Christmas wouldn’t have been Christmas without it; invariably there was a sketch in which Matron largely figured, and a chorus line of stalwart rugger players rigged out in ballet costume. Amelia, handy with her needle, spent a good deal of time stitching and making wigs from crêpe paper, and even in theatre the surgeons would discuss the forthcoming entertainment with a kind of nostalgia because they were now too senior and too important to join in the fun themselves.
There were the wards to decorate, too. Amelia’s friends all had wards of their own, and a good deal of time was spent in arguing the virtues of fancy head-dresses for the nurses or whether there ought to be potted meat sandwiches for the patients’ tea as well as Christmas cake and chocolate biscuits. And through all this activity, the work had to go on as usual, and just as Amelia had anticipated, theatre was in constant use. Fractured skulls, smashed faces and some quite nasty stab wounds, the result of the victims and their friends toasting the festive season rather too liberally, followed each other with almost monotonous regularity, interlarded by acute obstructions, appendices, stones in kidneys, stones in gall bladders and rather more road accidents than usual, and these needing all the skill which could be offered them. Amelia went off duty late night after night and slept like a log, far too tired to think about anything except keeping the theatre running smoothly.
Which she did, showing an unflurried front on Christmas morning when three road accident victims were sent up, one after the other. She ate her Christmas dinner, saved for her in the hot-plate and by then glued to it, so that it looked like the miniature dinners served to the occupants of dolls’ houses, by herself before rushing back to lay up for another patient, a small girl who had somehow contrived to swallow an open safety pin which was now playing havoc with her small insides. It was tea-time before they had finished, and Amelia had a quick cup in her office and since there was nothing for the moment, left her student nurse in charge with instructions to get her at once should the need arise, made her way from ward to ward, to admire the decorations, drink whatever was offered her and then find her way to the main surgical ward where the concert would have its first airing.
She sat and giggled happily at the antics of the students for a little while and then went back to theatre again to take the nurse’s place while she watched the rest of the show, and although there were no more cases, there was plenty for her to do and while she did it she thought with relief that in two days’ time she would be out herself at Barbara’s party; perhaps not exactly the entertainment she would have chosen, but it would be fun to dress up and not feel the need to dash to the phone each time it rang. There was a drinks party too, at an aunt’s house, and the day before that dinner with her father’s brother and his wife. She had more than enough to look forward to.
Boxing Day was even busier, partly because people went visiting relations and drove carelessly or fell in front of buses or tripped up on the pavements. She was so tired at the end of the day that she almost decided not to go to any parties at all, but retire to bed each evening with a book and a bag of apples. But she felt better in the morning and Staff Nurse was there to relieve her at lunch time, then she had a whole blissful afternoon in which to do nothing before dressing for Barbara’s party. She not only did nothing; she fell sound asleep and woke just in time to take a quick shower, gulp down a cup of tea made by one of her friends and tear into the new dress.
All the same, when she was ready, she looked cool and composed and had the air of one who had spent hours on a leisurely toilette. She displayed her outfit to an admiring audience of friends, wrapped herself in the feather-light mohair wrap her father had given her for Christmas, and tripped downstairs mindful of the new slippers. She wasn’t going to drive herself; the lodge porter called a taxi for her, told her that she looked a treat and sent her on her way.
Barbara and her husband had a flat just behind Sloane Square. Amelia could hear the party as she got out and paid the driver and the noise got worse as she soared up to the fourth floor in the lift. The block was an expensive one, floored by lush carpets and with a lot of wrought iron about. The flat door wasn’t open, but Amelia decided quite rightly that no one was going to hear her ring anyway, so she opened it and walked in.
Probably she was the last to arrive. She added her wrap to the pile of mink and red fox on the huge sofa which took up the whole of one wall in the hall, and went unhurriedly into the drawing room.
It was packed, and judging by the noise and laughter, a wild success. Amelia edged her way slowly towards Barbara, standing at the other end of the room, wearing a hideous red dress which made her look fat. As she went she smiled and nodded and mouthed greetings to such of those whom she knew and wondered where the food was. She had slept through tea, and the one cup she had had was gurgling around inside her in a disconcerting way. She reached her cousin at last and received a peck on her cheek which she returned politely, murmuring appreciation of the party, remarking on Barbara’s splendid appearance and hoping she was enjoying life.
‘Of course I am,’ Barbara said with a small snigger. ‘You should have got married, Amelia, even if it wasn’t exactly a brilliant match. How do you like being a bachelor girl again?’
‘I’ve never been anything else, and I’d rather make up my mind as to my future before I got married...it must be difficult once you’re tied down, even in these days.’ Amelia smiled into Barbara’s cross face and floated away in her sparkling dress, to be instantly surrounded by a number of men acquaintances. She couldn’t resist a small smile at her cousin as she accepted a glass from one of them. She eyed the glass doubtfully: someone had said it was a cup, and knowing Barbara she was pretty sure that it had been prepared with an eye to economy. She took a cautious sip and knew she was right; it tasted like watered-down raspberry jam with bits of apple and cucumber in it. Really, Barbara should know better! She exchanged party chat for a few minutes and then declared firmly that she had any number of uncles and aunts to speak to, and took herself off, discarding the more persistent of her followers with a disarming charm.
She made for her favourite aunt, her father’s elder sister, a mild-looking lady whose good looks bore witness to the fact that in her youth she must have been as pretty as her niece. Her ‘Hullo, dar
ling’, was uttered with real pleasure. ‘How gorgeous you look! What a filthy drink this is. Barbara could surely afford champagne... Your father told me you were working over Christmas. How’s life?’ Her kind eyes searched Amelia’s face. ‘I was sorry to hear about you and Tom—he wasn’t the right man for you, darling, but that’s such a stupid thing to say, isn’t it?’ Her eyes focused over Amelia’s shoulder. ‘Ah, there’s that nice man I met...’ She lifted a hand and beckoned and Amelia turned to see who it was. Gideon.
She went a little pale and then as he reached them, blushed charmingly. He greeted them both pleasantly, said all the right things to her aunt and then turned to her. ‘What a pleasant surprise. I imagined you to be at your home with Tom...were you not free for the holiday?’
Amelia was having an absurd difficulty in speaking, her breath had left her and she couldn’t think of anything to say—an omission filled by Barbara who had strolled over to join them. ‘Amelia with Tom?’ she laughed gaily. ‘You must be joking, Gideon! You must know—everyone does—he’s in Australia and they decided not to get married after all. Fancy not knowing; it’s been a nine days’ wonder around the family.’
Gideon’s face remained politely interested, no more. ‘But I’m not family, Barbara.’ He glanced at Amelia. ‘I’m sorry to hear it. When did this happen?’
Amelia didn’t get a chance to answer him, although she wasn’t sure if she was going to. He had no right to question her...
Barbara told him, smiling at her as she did so, but Amelia didn’t see that. She watched Gideon and knew at once that he remembered when they had met and she hadn’t said a word about it. The bland expression hadn’t altered, but his eyes were gleaming under their heavy lids. She wondered just for a moment if he were laughing.
‘I really must go and talk to Uncle George,’ she smiled at all three of them, her chin well up. She put her glass down on a nearby table. ‘That’s a most unusual cup, Barbara,’ she murmured, ‘it’s quite gone to my head.’
Uncle George was a haven; a large stout old man whose bulk shielded her nicely from the rest of the room. She stood exchanging gentle conversation with him and wondered how soon she could get away. The evening was a failure, the dress had been a wicked waste of money, she might just as well have worn a sack...
Uncle George paused in his gentle droning. ‘My dear fellow, how delightful to see you again! You know my niece Amelia, of course. Lord, yes, foolish of me, you were on holiday together. Take her away, will you, and find her some food; she tells me she’s quite famished.’
Gideon’s large hand propelled her gently through the crowd. ‘I like the dress,’ he observed from somewhere above her head. ‘I have always considered that big girls look splendid in evening outfits.’
Amelia managed to come to a halt. ‘Really,’ she declared loftily, ‘whatever will you say next? And I’m not a big girl!’
He still had a hand under her elbow although he was making no effort to move. ‘You are, you know. Of course I could describe you in somewhat different terms, but I doubt if you would wish me to.’
‘Certainly not!’ She took a deep breath. Really, she wasn’t going to be able to stay with him a minute longer. She might say something silly like how very glad she was to see him again and had he missed her. Of course he hadn’t. She said rather desperately: ‘Oh, there’s an aunt I haven’t seen for years...’
He began edging her forward again. ‘In that case, she probably won’t recognise you. Your Uncle George says you are to have something to eat. Have you been on a diet?’
‘Certainly not!’
‘Pining for Tom?’ he asked softly.
She didn’t answer him. Extraordinary, she thought, how one can love someone who could be so annoying and so persistent. She stuck her beautiful nose into the air. ‘That’s my business.’
‘Indeed, yes. I’m merely inquisitive, but as my grandmother always said: “There’s many more fish in the sea”.’
‘I’m not interested in your grandmother.’
‘A pity; she would have liked you.’
They had reached the dining room where a long table was laid out with an assortment of food on silver salvers. They roamed its length and finally Amelia said: ‘I think I’ll stay famished.’
And indeed the feast set out before them wasn’t particularly appetising. Carrot sticks hardly filled anyone, not unless they were dieting fiercely. The cheese straws bent in a rubbery fashion when Amelia picked one up and the canapés were no more than tiny appetisers.
‘Never mind,’ said Gideon. ‘We’ll get called away urgently and have dinner somewhere.’ He said it in such a casual way that she had agreed before she had time for second thoughts and when she did have them she turned a metaphorical back on them.
‘Are you a good liar?’ asked Gideon as they started fighting their way back to the drawing room.
‘When absolutely necessary, yes.’
She managed very well. With just the right amount of urgency and regret she made it clear to Barbara that there had been a message for her to go back to the hospital—there was a case and one theatre was already being used.
Barbara didn’t believe her, of course, but she uttered little cries of sympathy, urged Amelia to come again whenever she had a free moment and proffered her cheek once more.
‘I’ll run Amelia back; it won’t take more than a few minutes.’ Gideon somehow gave the impression that he would be back in no time at all and Barbara believed him. Only Aunt Delia, her pretty elderly face quite without expression, gave him a piercing glance as she kissed her niece.
There was a dark blue Rolls parked at the kerb as they left the building and Gideon unlocked its doors and helped her in.
‘Yours?’ asked Amelia as he got in beside her.
‘Yes. How about Le Gavroche?’
‘We’ll never get in.’
‘Yes, we will.’ He didn’t enlarge upon his hopeful remark and the drive was so short that there was hardly time to find out why. But they were shown to a table immediately and as they sat down Amelia asked: ‘How did you do it?’
‘I was able to help one of the owners a year or so ago, when he was taken ill.’
She waited for more, but it seemed that was all she was to know. She said rather crossly: ‘What I like about you is the generous way you hand out information.’
He looked unperturbed. ‘As long as there’s something you like about me, Amelia.’ He added: ‘And if I might say so, you haven’t been all that forthcoming yourself. Why didn’t you tell me about Tom?’
‘Why should I? I didn’t think you’d be interested. Do you mind if we don’t talk about it?’
‘No, I don’t mind in the least. To quote your own words: Why should I?’ His smile was faintly mocking. ‘Now let’s settle the most important question of what we are going to eat. And what would you like to drink? I must admit that the drinks at your cousin’s party tasted very peculiar; soda water, cider probably with a dash of gin and a bottle of plonk with the merest trace of red ink to give it colour.’
Amelia giggled. ‘I thought it was watered-down raspberry jam. I only had a sip—it might have played havoc with my insides. It was my first Christmas party too.’
Gideon smiled, kindly now, for she looked like a disappointed child dressed for a party and then told that she wouldn’t be going. ‘You didn’t get home?’
She shook her head, suddenly quite at ease with him. Loving him had nothing to do with it, she discovered; he was just very nice to be with. ‘No, it was my turn to be on duty this year, I’ll go home for my days off.’
He looked up from the menu. ‘When is that?’
‘Oh, two days’ time. There’s a dinner tomorrow and a drinks party the evening after, both family, and I’d like to go, though they won’t be very exciting—not that Barbara’s was that.’
‘I found it very exciting.’ His voice was blandly casual, and Amelia wondered miserably which of the girls there had taken his fancy.
But it was hard to be miserable with a champagne cocktail inside her and a delicious meal, beautifully served with more champagne to wash it down. She spooned the last mouthful of the light-as-air sorbet and sat back with a contented sigh. ‘That was one of the nicest meals I’ve ever eaten,’ she assured Gideon, ‘and thank you very much for asking me out.’
‘A pleasure; Barbara’s party snacks were hardly sufficient to satisfy one, and eating alone is a lonely business.’
She remained silent while the waiter served their coffee. ‘Then I’m even more in your debt than I imagined. There were a dozen girls who would have entertained you far better than I.’
His imperturbable: ‘Oh, I daresay,’ made her choke with temper. ‘But after all, we share a kind of friendship, do we not? Do you ever think about Norway?’
She said coldly: ‘Oh, frequently—it was a delightful holiday. I think Father and I will go again next year.’
‘Yes, he was telling me about it...’
‘When was that? While we were on holiday?’
‘No, no—I went down to see him a week ago. I had a rod he was interested in. I am going again, just for the night—as a matter of fact on the same day as you plan to go. Perhaps I may give you a lift.’