by Betty Neels
‘And you’ve been out? Driving round the country seeing Jerez—Cadiz?’
‘Well, no, as a matter of fact we haven’t been anywhere. This morning was the first time I’ve been away from the house.’
He was frowning again. ‘But you have had your free time each day?’
Something no one had suggested, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.
‘Well, I haven’t really needed it, you know, I’ve had very little to do.’
Only be at Diana’s beck and call all day and sometimes at night too, she added silently.
The taxi swerved into the drive and rushed up to the house, to stop with a jolt before the entrance. The doctor got out, held the door open for Euphemia, paid the driver and stalked inside the house through the half open door. ‘The sitting-room’s on the left,’ she told him. ‘They usually have drinks about now,’ and as Maria appeared from the back of the house, she skipped upstairs. A shower and a clean dress were essential. Besides, she found herself singularly reluctant to witness the doctor and Diana meeting. His face would light up as it so rarely did and Diana would rush into his arms. She got under the shower and turned it full on as though it would wash away her thoughts.
It wasn’t quite like that at all. The doctor opened the door for himself, forestalling Maria by a few inches, and walked into the room. Mrs Kellard was lying as usual on her chaise-longue, a glass on the table beside her, Diana was lying on a day-bed near the open window, a glass beside her too. She was doing her nails and didn’t look up at once. ‘I hope you got everything I wanted,’ she said. ‘You’ve been long enough…’
She looked up then and as she was a clever young woman the utter consternation on her face was instantly masked by a delighted smile and widened eyes.
‘Tane—how absolutely marvellous, what a heavenly surprise!’
The doctor stood in the centre of the room, looking at her. ‘Yes, I thought I would surprise you, and I see that I have.’ He walked smilingly towards her. ‘You’re feeling better, I hope, Diana?’
She got to her feet and came to meet him, lifting a cheek for his kiss, smiling up into his face. ‘You must meet my aunt…’
Mrs Kellard made no attempt to get up. She offered a languid hand, declared that she was delighted to meet dear Diana’s fiancé and that he was to stay as long as he wished. ‘And pour yourself a drink, Tane—what a strange-sounding name!—lunch will be in ten minutes or so. Where’s that nurse?’ She looked around her, rather as though she expected Euphemia to materialise obligingly from thin air. ‘We shall have to start without her.’
The doctor poured himself a small drink and sat down, choosing a chair opposite his hostess and not nearly as close to his fiancée as one would expect. ‘You mean Euphemia?’ he asked pleasantly. ‘I brought her back with me. I met her walking down your drive with a small boy, quite badly injured, in her arms. I took them to the hospital in Jerez.’
Mrs Kellard looked uncomfortable, but only for a moment. ‘Oh, yes—she came here with him, but he was quite filthy, I couldn’t have allowed them to come indoors—you agreed with me, didn’t you, Diana?’ She smiled with studied charm. ‘You above all people must know how delicate the dear girl is. She has to be shielded from anything unpleasant or dangerous to her health.’
The doctor didn’t answer her. He was looking at Diana with an expressionless face, but his eyes were very bright. ‘You didn’t telephone?’ he asked quietly.
Diana shrugged and made a pretty little face. ‘Darling Tane, I don’t speak Spanish.’
His voice was mild. ‘You could have fetched one of the servants to telephone for you.’
Diana arranged the pleats of her cream silk dress with a careful hand. ‘Darling, in all this heat? I thought I’d come here to convalesce, not run around doing other people’s jobs!’ She held out an arm. ‘Come and sit over here by me and tell me all your news. Are you going to stay long?’
‘No. Diana, have you been out at all?’
‘Too hot… Euphemia makes me walk around the gardens and spend half an hour in the swimming pool, after that I’m exhausted.’
‘And Euphemia? She has had time to herself, I hope?’
Diana gave a little laugh. ‘Tane, darling, she does nothing all day—it must be heaven for her.’
‘But she is with you all day, I presume? A companion’s job consists largely of fetching and carrying, doing odd jobs that no one else wants to do, being on hand whenever she’s wanted.’
‘Oh, that—well, that’s what she’s being paid for isn’t it?’ She looked up as Euphemia, clean and fresh in a cotton dress, came into the room. ‘Oh, there you are,’ she observed. ‘I’m just telling Tane what an easy life you have. Did you do my shopping?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. I’ll try again tomorrow morning if you don’t need me then.’
Diana frowned. ‘I shall want my hair washed.’
The doctor had got to his feet. ‘It would do you good to wash your own hair,’ he observed evenly ‘and I think that Euphemia deserves another morning off in exchange for the one she didn’t get today.’
Diana’s laugh sounded a little shrill. ‘Oh, if you say so. After all, you’ll be here. We must think of something exciting to do—just you and me.’
As they went into the dining room she said: ‘You didn’t say how long you were staying, Tane?’
‘A couple of days. I really wanted to make arrangements for taking you back—and Euphemia of course,’ he added smoothly. ‘If she has no objection, and can spare another day, I thought we might go to my home and take a flight from there on the following day.’
Diana’s eyes shone. ‘Oh, lovely—it was such a short visit when we went there in the spring. I’ve thought about it a lot; all the modernising we can do, and new furnishings and curtains.’
Euphemia, sitting across the table from the doctor, saw his quick frown. Probably he lived in a nice mid Victorian house with attics and cellars, lots of heavy furniture and an old-fashioned bathroom. He would have inherited it from his parents and doubtless had never considered altering a single pot plant. He might drive a super car and dress with elegance, but just as long as he was warm and comfortable and had good meals served to him when he was home, he was probably content.
She enjoyed her lunch. There was a good deal more food on the table for a start, presumably following the adage that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Euphemia took full advantage of the savoury rice which flanked the dishes of salad and thinly sliced cold chicken, and when they were served with ice cream, topped with chocolate sauce and burnt almonds, she ate it with a childish pleasure not lost on the doctor. Even Diana’s joking remarks about getting fat left her unmoved; it was a heavenly change from lettuce leaves and yoghurt.
She went with Diana to her room after the meal, a little surprised that that young woman intended to have her two hours’ rest. Surely just for once she could have lounged on one of the garden chairs set out so invitingly in the cooler parts of the grounds? But it seemed she had no intention of changing her routine. She told the doctor that she would see him at four o’clock when they had tea on one of the terraces, advised him to lie down too, and after keeping Euphemia pottering around finding eye pads, eau-de-cologne and a book she had been reading, told her to go away.
Which Euphemia did, only too gladly. Feeling full after her unaccustomed meal, she got her writing things and went into the garden, where she was waylaid by Maria, who wanted to know about the little boy. She beamed and smiled as Euphemia told her, making her part in the affair only a small one, and then surprised her very much by taking her hands and kissing her on both cheeks.
‘I know him well,’ said Maria emotionally. ‘He is the youngest of my nephews—he could have died.’ Tears poured from her dark eyes. ‘A car, they think, knocked him down and didn’t stop, and he could have lain there crying…’
The tears flowed faster and Euphemia patted the plump shoulder and said, ‘There, there, don’t cry. He’s going to get b
etter and be all right.’
‘Because of you and the kind doctor. I heard about Mrs Kellard—Manuel was in the back hall, he saw it all and heard, too, how she and the Miss would give no help at all, just because he was dirty and covered in blood. Why could they not have called one of us to telephone the hospital…?’ She stopped crying for a moment, staring over Euphemia’s shoulder, smiling uncertainly at someone behind them.
Euphemia whizzed round. The doctor was very close, he must have heard every word. She broke into a muddled speech, anxious to put a good light on things. ‘Diana couldn’t have understood—I mean, she wasn’t near the door, so probably she didn’t hear what it was all about—she gets upset if anyone is ill or—or…’
She stopped, halted by his cool stare. ‘There is no need to cover up, Euphemia. I had a little chat with Diana and her aunt before you came down to lunch.’ He grinned suddenly and looked years younger. ‘I’ve been eavesdropping too.’
‘Yes, well…can’t we forget all about it? Diana isn’t quite herself yet. She’s much better, though, isn’t she? She’s so pretty. When she came to your party at Myrtle House she looked lovely…’ She was aware that she was babbling, but she seemed unable to stop. Only when he said softly: ‘You know, I really must agree with Dr Lopez,’ did she break off in mid-sentence, her mouth slightly open. Dr Lopez had said that she was beautiful, but perhaps Dr van Diederijk didn’t mean that. He went on easily, ‘Shall we find somewhere shady, I could do with a nap.’
She led him to her favourite spot, a grass patch hidden away between vivid shrubs and dragon trees. ‘I’m going to write these letters,’ she told him, and sat down composedly, unaware of the pretty picture she made in her white dress with the hibiscus and poinsettia all round her.
The doctor lay down a few feet away, his head turned so that he could watch her. He did it through almost closed lids so that she imagined him to be asleep, and indeed after the first glance, she didn’t look at him again and got down to her letters. She had written two and was beginning on the third when he asked her suddenly, ‘To whom do you write?’
‘Oh, hallo, I thought you were asleep. Ellen and the boys, and a note to Mrs Cross telling her what groceries to get in. Ellen’s curate is going to lunch and if I know Ellen she’ll be so busy deciding what to give him to eat she’ll forget things like cornflakes and Vim.’ She added anxiously: ‘You don’t mind him going, do you? Should we have asked you first?’
He rolled over and stretched hugely. ‘My dear girl, it’s your home.’
‘Yes, I know, but you’re the tenant and I’ve no right…’
‘For the whole of one month you have all the right in the world. Has it been worth while, Euphemia, giving up your holiday?’
She didn’t look at him. ‘Yes, oh yes—I’ve a whole week to look forward to and the others are so happy, I can never thank you enough. I expect you’re longing to go back there.’
‘Yes—it seems like my second home.’
‘And so handy for the hospital.’
‘Yes, that too, although I shall be working in Holland for several months later this year.’
She was unaware of the disappointment on her face. ‘Oh—I thought you were on the consulting staff for ever…’
‘Oh, but I am, several other hospitals too. I’m also a consultant at a number of hospitals in Holland, and as such I travel a good deal.’
Euphemia stared at a vivid butterfly perched near her head. ‘Even when you’re married?’ she wanted to know.
He didn’t answer, and she pinkened at the snub and bent over her writing pad again and missed his smile, and when she had finished her letter and took a quick peek at him, he was asleep again. She went indoors then to do some small job of sewing for Diana and although the doctor had tea with them, he had very little to say to her, in fact he had very little to say to Diana or Mrs Kellard either, answering them politely but not embarking upon a lengthy conversation. Nor did he evince any desire to be alone with Diana. He went for a swim after tea and then took himself off walking, not to reappear until they met before dinner in the drawing-room. Euphemia, in her long flowered skirt and embroidered cotton blouse, felt quite eclipsed by Diana’s organza and Mrs Kellard’s chiffon. The doctor, very correct in white dinner jacket, eyed her as she went in and she flushed a little; her outfit was charming and suited her, but she might just as well have been wearing a sheet when it came to competing with the other two women. But she wasn’t competiting, she told herself in bewilderment, so why this sudden urge to look her best?
Dinner was elaborate and, for once, satisfied her healthy appetite. The conversation was easy, amusing and clever, because Diana was good at that sort of thing. Euphemia, eating iced melon, chicken Kiev and lemon sorbet, spoke when spoken to and had the lowering feeling that she was not really necessary to the dinner party at all. True, the doctor addressed her from time to time, but that was only because he had probably been brought up to have good manners. She slipped away after they had had coffee, with the idea of telephoning the hospital to enquire after the little boy. She would have to enlist Maria’s help, of course, which meant going along to the back of the house where they had their quarters. She wasn’t sure if Mrs Kellard would approve of her going there on a personal errand, so she went through the garden, round the side of the house to where she could see the kitchen windows, already lighted against the dusk.
She jumped visibly when the doctor’s voice from somewhere close by spoke. ‘If you were thinking of telephoning, I went down to the hospital this afternoon. The boy’s going to be all right, I had a look at him myself. I was about to tell Maria.’
Euphemia let out the breath she had held out of fright. ‘You startled me,’ she told him accusingly. ‘Yes, I was going to ask Maria to help me phone—I’ll leave you to talk to her, and thank you for finding out.’ She added a soft ‘Good night’, and went back the way she had come, just in time to answer Diana’s imperious demand for a lace shawl, to be told, when she had fetched it, that she could go to bed if she wanted. ‘You must be tired after your little adventure this morning,’ declared Diana, ‘and Aunt is going to read for a while, Tane and I will take a stroll in the gardens.’
Euphemia, wrestling with a strong wish to thump the girl, although she wasn’t sure why, bade her goodnight and did the same to Mrs Kellard, who murmured from behind her novel, and went to her room. It was still quite early and she had no wish for bed; she went to sit by the window, and presently saw Diana and the doctor strolling away into the deepening dusk. Diana—even from that distance was obviously pulling out all the stops; the upturned face, the little helpless hand on his coat sleeve, the tinkling laugh… Euphemia ground splendid white teeth, ran a bath and lay in it, reading yesterday’s Telegraph. The bath was far too hot and when she got out at last she looked like a beautiful lobster.
Diana had slept badly, she informed Euphemia the next morning; she had a headache and wished for nothing more than aspirin, pads soaked in cucumber over her eyes and the blinds drawn. She sounded cross too, and Euphemia wondered if she and the doctor had had words the evening before.
‘Then you won’t mind if I go into Jerez and do that shopping?’ she asked.
‘Do what you like,’ said Diana crossly, ‘and tell Tane not to come near me—I’ll come down for lunch.’
Euphemia had had her breakfast early, so there was nothing to stop her leaving at once. Of the doctor there was no sign, so she gave Maria Diana’s message and fetched her bag and left the house. Thanks to her taxi ride yesterday, she knew the way now. To walk down into the town before the day got warm was going to be pleasant. She started off for the wicket gate once more.
The doctor was waiting by it. ‘Walking?’ he enquired genially without bothering to answer her surprised good morning. ‘We can take a taxi back.’
‘I’m going to do some shopping,’ she began, aware that the idea of spending an hour or so in his company was a pleasant one.
‘I know, you didn’t do
it yesterday. It will be twice as quick if I come with you.’ He had opened the gate as he spoke and she went through, content to let the situation take care of itself.
The walk was pleasant and even when they reached the town there was a lot to see. Euphemia didn’t much care for the small, mean streets tucked away almost out of sight, but as her companion pointed out she must try to see them through Spanish eyes and not compare them with a British town. ‘And I can tell you of some pretty ghastly slums in London and Birmingham,’ he pointed out.
‘Oh, yes, I know, and I don’t mean to be critical. Is that a chemist’s shop over there? Because I’ve several things to get for Diana.’
The shopping went well, helped by a leisurely half hour at a pavement café, drinking coffee in the sun. ‘Have you been here before?’ asked Euphemia.
‘Twice—one of the students I trained with has a practice here. You’ve not been to Cadiz yet, have you?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I’ll try before we go back, but Diana doesn’t want to do any sightseeing, and I’m sure that the quiet life she’s leading now does her far more good.’
His ‘probably’ was dry. ‘Have you much more shopping?’
She looked at her list. ‘No, only to go to this hair-dresser and ask for someone to go to Mrs Kellard’s house and do her hair tomorrow.’
‘Why can’t she get to the hairdresser’s?’ His voice was casual.
‘I don’t think she’s very strong,’ said Euphemia politely.
The doctor looked at her. ‘My dear girl, I hope you thank God on your bended knees every day of your life for being a nice healthy girl, all the right shape and size and able to do things for yourself.’
She chuckled. ‘Oh, I do.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Should we find the hairdresser now? I think I should be getting back…’
But it seemed that the doctor had different ideas. True, he went to the shop with her and made the necessary appointment for someone to go and see to Mrs Kellard’s platinum head, but once they were on the pavement once more, he took her arm and led her away from the main street, along several narrow lanes lined with whitewashed houses until they reached a long white building with heavy gates half way down its length.