by Betty Neels
Polly said nothing but stared down at her hands, her mouth tightly shut for fear she should start explaining, and even if she did, he might think that she was making excuses, hiding behind Diana, telling tales.
The Professor fetched a deep sigh. ‘I should like to shake you until your bones rattle,’ he observed with some heat.
Polly got to her feet. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for that,’ she told him politely. ‘I have to go to a lecture at four o’clock, and it’s five minutes to.’ She swept her small person past him with what dignity she could muster, seeing that it was a tight squeeze to get to the door. Her hand on the handle, she said with a calm she didn’t feel: ‘I promise you I’ll keep out of your way in future. My only regret is that I’ve started my training at this hospital; I had thought I would never have to see you again.’
A splendid exit line, marred by his hand on her arm preventing her from leaving.
‘You don’t mean that, Polly.’ His voice was so gentle that she nearly choked on the lie.
‘Oh, but I do…’ She couldn’t trust herself to say any more, but pulled away from his hand and scurried to Sister’s Office to ask to go to the lecture.
Sister Bates eyed her thoughtfully. Polly Talbot had all the attributes of a good nurse, besides that she wasn’t one of the flightly careless girls she had to cope with from time to time, but now she looked wild-eyed, and as white as her apron. She wondered what Professor Gervis had been saying to her. Sister Bates, who had a sentimental regard for him, wished she knew. She watched Polly slip away and close the door after her very quietly. Hardly the Professor’s type, perhaps, but surely better than that haughty piece he had brought to the ward at Christmas. Sister Bates, who cherished her little patients fiercely, had found it hard to forgive Deirdre’s fastidious rejection of eager small faces and sticky fingers. She shook her head sadly at the Professor’s blindness, for he loved the children in his care and she very much doubted if the fashionable creature who had accompanied him would want them.
Polly sat through her lecture, looking attentive, making notes which she was quite unable to decipher afterwards, and when Sister Tutor’s eagle eye registered her pale face, assuring that lady that she felt very well.
Indeed she substantiated this statement by going to the cinema with her friends after tea and then held a tea-party in her room afterwards with several pots of tea and bags of chips from the fish and chip shop down the street. She, who had been considered rather quiet, was the life and soul of the party.
But later, in bed, she cried herself to sleep. She had nothing to cry about, she told herself repeatedly; she had known for weeks—since she had first met him—that the Professor didn’t like her, so why was she making a fuss now? She knew he was quite entitled to be angry, since he thought that it was her fault that Diana had ignored his message. She shut her eyes and wished for sleep, and instead remembered that Midsummer Day would have been his wedding day if Deirdre had had her way. She slept at length, imagining the horrid girl in yards of white satin and chiffon. As she dozed off she muttered: ‘Oh, my poor Sam!’
There was a letter for her the next morning; an expensive, thick envelope containing an invitation to Diana’s wedding and a note with it. ‘I’ll never forgive you if you don’t come!’
Polly put it in her pocket. Of course she wouldn’t go; she had nothing to wear and she would feel a fool, knowing no one there. Besides, hadn’t she told the Professor that she would keep out of his way?
Not so very difficult. She saw him often enough, crossing the courtyard, driving away in the Bentley, standing in a corridor talking to a colleague, and after two more days, on the ward, doing his round, but he gave no sign that he had even seen her, and on the ward it was easy enough to make for the sluice or the feed kitchen and stay there until he had gone again. In one more day she would have her days off again and there were no more rounds for four days, only the Registrar coming each morning and Joseph who came several times a day, whenever Sister Bates needed him. Polly liked him; he wasn’t a great deal older than she was and a little uncertain of himself. On the round, she had noticed that he hung on the Professor’s every word and copied the way he put his hands in his pockets while he talked to his patients, and once, when she was holding a toddler so that he might examine a small labouring chest, she had asked if he liked Professor Gervis. Joseph had broken into a eulogy of praise which lasted for quite some time. ‘He’s—well, I can’t think of a word. I’ve been to his house once or twice, you know—we had a smashing dinner and he—he listened when I talked. He’s great!’
Sitting with a small baby on her lap while he peered carefully down a small ear, he told her that he’d been invited to Diana’s wedding. ‘I met her when I went there,’ he explained. ‘I haven’t got a decent suit, but I suppose I can hire one. I don’t know anyone much there, but I’d like to go.’
He added: ‘He won’t be in today.’
Which in a way was a relief to Polly; she was free to go up and down the ward and through the hospital on various errands without peering around to make sure he wasn’t in sight. She told herself how glad she was and longed for him to come through the door.
Which he did an hour later, with Sister Bates in full sail beside him and Staff hovering. There was no escape this time either, for Polly was on her way up the ward with a toddler in floods of tears, and to turn tail and run just wasn’t possible.
The Professor appeared not to see her, already bending over a small boy who had been admitted with a badly scalded arm. She put the tearful child into his cot, arranged toys suitably, locked the cot sides and made for the door. The linen cupboard, she thought rapidly, although it had no pleasant memories for her, or the kitchen. She was at the door when Nurse Honeybun stopped her. ‘Polly,’ she hissed from one of the beds on the other side of the ward, ‘get some sheets from the trolley, will you, and look sharp!’
She stayed to help, making up a fresh bed while Nurse Honeybun cradled a drowsy little girl on her lap. They had just tucked her in once more when the Professor’s party came back, reinforced by Joseph, still apologising because he hadn’t known the Professor was there. They drew level with Polly and she bent over the trolley, tidying the already tidy pile of linen, wishing herself invisible.
To no avail, for the Professor stopped beside her. ‘You are coming to Diana’s wedding, Polly?’ he asked. So very unfair of him, knowing she would have to speak to him with so many people gaping at her.
‘I’m afraid not, sir.’ She tried to sound calm and polite and succeeded in being frigidly wooden. ‘I’m on duty.’
A mistake, she realised the moment the words were out of her mouth, for he said smoothly: ‘Oh, I’m sure Sister Bates can remedy that, can you not, Sister? Diana will be disappointed—besides, Joseph has been invited and you could come together. We shall look forward to seeing you both.’
Polly looked at him then, her eyes with their long lashes, dark with temper, and found him smiling, daring her to refuse. She said in a high voice, ‘Thank you, sir,’ and could have slapped Joseph’s pleased face when he said cheerfully: ‘I say, sir, that’ll be great—I mean going with someone I know.’
The whole party moved on, leaving Polly fuming and Nurse Honeybun frankly envious.
Polly’s father drove her home that evening and the family received the news of the wedding with a good deal of interest. ‘Laura Ashley,’ chorused her sisters. ‘We will take you tomorrow—Cheltenham.’ They fixed their father with compelling eyes. ‘Father, you’ll drive us there?’
‘Well, I am free…’
‘Good. Now, Polly…’
‘I’ll go to Laura Ashley, but I want to choose for myself—something quite plain.’
Her sisters made faces. ‘Oh, Polly—all right!’
But the next day they had to admit that they could find no fault with her choice; a skirt and jacket in very pale pink, the skirt full and tucked, the jacket short with a little stand-up collar, and since it was a weddi
ng she bought a white spotted lawn blouse with a good deal of fine lace. It took some searching to find the hat she liked, a pale pink straw with a fairly wide brim and a neat ribbon. Low-heeled shoes, pale gloves and a handbag borrowed from Cora completed the outfit and left her pocket almost empty, but as Marian pointed out, she would shortly be getting her first month’s salary and what she had bought was worth every penny. She went back to the hospital burdened with her purchases, dreaming impossible dreams about the Professor, his calm shaken at the sight of her, falling in love. And that’s nonsense, she told herself crossly, when he’s already in love with Deirdre. She dreaded seeing them together at the wedding, but at least she had the time to get used to the idea; she would be serene and pleasantly cool if she had to speak to them, and she didn’t see how she could avoid it.
On the day of the wedding Joseph drove her down in his battered Ford, uneasy in his hired suit. He had taken one look at her in her finery and said: ‘Good lord, I hardly know you, you look quite pretty!’ a left-handed compliment which left her giggling.
But they sobered up as they reached the church. The lanes leading to it were lined with cars, Rolls and Bentleys and Mercedes and Jaguars. Joseph inched his Ford into a space between a Rolls Corniche and a Bristol and got out. ‘I say,’ he said worriedly, ‘this is all a bit above us, isn’t it?’
‘Pooh,’ declared Polly, ‘of course it isn’t. Weddings are for everyone, and besides, I daresay most of these cars are company cars.’ She put on her gloves. ‘Let’s go, Joseph.’
The usher showed them to seats halfway down the church, already well filled with guests and most of the village. The tall man standing at the chancel steps must be Bob, Polly decided. He looked nice, but at the moment nervous, but then who wouldn’t be? There were some gorgeous outfits in the pews and a number of older men with noses just like the Professor. Uncles, and the self-assured ladies with them would be aunts. There was a fair sprinkling of young people too, wearing the sort of clothes to make Polly’s own outfit look exactly what it was—off the peg, even if pretty.
There was a little stir at the back of the church and Deirdre, with an elderly couple behind her, came down the aisle. She was wearing a vivid yellow outfit and a hat with a large wavy brim and a load of pink silk roses round its crown. The colour scheme was arresting but not altogether pleasing, although it was obvious from Deirdre’s expression that she was very pleased with herself.
‘Who’s the glamorous beanpole?’ whispered Joseph.
‘She’s Professor Gervis’s fianceé.’ It helped quite a bit when he muttered: ‘I don’t believe it, you’re having me on.’ He stopped because Polly had dug him in the ribs; the Professor was coming down the aisle with an old lady dressed richly in an out-of-date garment and crowned with a feather toque. Granny? wondered Polly silently. She had the same nose and the same air of being quite sure of herself. She craned her neck to see where they were sitting, but they were too far away in the little church and a forest of hats obscured her view. The bridesmaids were in the porch, she could hear silky rustlings and urgent whisperings, and presently the organist let himself go in a loud burst of music as Diana, looking quite lovely, came down the aisle on the arm of an elderly man. That would be Uncle George, decided Polly, who had listened for hours to Diana’s plans and had a good memory for names. The bridesmaids were small, and made a charming picture, walking carefully, peeping sideways to see if their mothers were watching. Pretty, well brought up children, not like the little sick creatures in Sister Bates’s ward.
The service was short; in no time at all the register was being signed while the congregation murmured and rustled and coughed and then rose to its feet as the bride and groom started down the aisle, and behind them the old lady and Professor Gervis. Polly, safely anonymous among so many guests, allowed herself the pleasure of watching him. Morning dress suited him and he wore it unselfconsciously, and he was a good head taller than the other men around him. He bent his head to listen to his companion, answered her and looked up, straight at Polly. She didn’t look away because that would have been silly, but she didn’t smile either, only looked at him with her heart in her eyes. Just for a moment he smiled briefly, and Joseph said happily: ‘I say, Professor Gervis saw us, didn’t he? What do we do next?’
‘Wait,’ said Polly sensibly, while her heart’s beat slowly returned to normal. ‘When all the family have gone we can go too and drive to the house. I know the way.’
Joseph caught her arm. ‘I say, there’s that girl again—what a bad-tempered piece she is, too. I hope I don’t have to meet her.’
‘Very unlikely,’ said Polly positively and erroneously. ‘Come along, we can go now.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
POLLY AND JOSEPH were the very last guests to arrive at the house because the Ford hadn’t wanted to start. Jeff, stationed at the open door, ushered them into the hall with a welcoming smile and a ‘Nice to see you, Miss Talbot.’ He waved them into the drawing-room where the bride and groom, the old lady, Professor Gervis and Deirdre were standing together as the last of the guests went to join everyone else. Feeling conspicuous, they crossed the room, to be welcomed by Diana’s pleased: ‘There you are, Polly, how pretty you look.’ She kissed Polly’s rather flushed cheek and turned to Joseph. ‘And you can kiss me,’ she invited him. ‘Polly, this is Bob— Bob, she’s the dearest creature.’
Polly shook hands and murmured conventional phrases, aware that Sam’s eyes were on her. She had to look at him then, because he touched her arm lightly and said: ‘Grandmother, this is Polly Talbot, a friend of Diana’s and training to be a children’s nurse. She’s also something of a scholar.’
Polly shook hands again very gently, for the old lady was indeed old, with bony fingers loaded with rings. But the blue eyes she fixed on Polly were still bright and sharp. ‘Now that’s a nice change,’ she observed in a carrying voice. ‘Most young women of today seem to think of nothing but starving themselves and buying silly clothes.’ Her look raked Polly. ‘You’re very nicely dressed, gal, and you’ve got a shape too.’ She switched her gaze to her grandson. ‘Isn’t that so, Sam?’ And before he could answer: ‘Of course I shouldn’t have asked you that with Deirdre here. I expect you two young women have met?’ she asked wickedly.
‘Yes, we have,’ said Polly pleasantly, and gave Deirdre a thin edge of a smile. ‘Weddings are such fun, aren’t they? I expect you’re looking forward to yours?’ Egged on by some mischievous urge, she looked up at the Professor. ‘You too, of course, Professor Gervis.’
She was a little put out to see that he was hiding laughter. Dismay caught her by the throat. Perhaps he and Deirdre were already married—Midsummer Day had come and gone; they could have got married very quietly and not told anyone outside the family. Her eyes flew to Deirdre’s left hand, lying rather ostentatiously on his sleeve. There was only an engagement ring on her finger. Polly heaved a sigh of relief while the Professor, reading her telltale face, concealed amusement.
Joseph was still talking to old Mrs Gervis and Bob and Diana called across them. ‘I’ve never asked you how you felt after that horrid accident. Sam said you’d got back to the hospital, but didn’t you feel ghastly? And it was all my fault, rushing off like that. You know I never did like doing what I was told, Sam…’ She looked at him and laughed. ‘That’s why I said Polly made me go back. She didn’t, of course. I’d have been lost without her, you know, I felt so sick and giddy, and she got on to the hard shoulder although she can’t drive. But she’d have told you all that…’ She turned to speak to her grandmother, and Joseph, released from the old lady’s sharp questions, turned thankfully to the Professor and Deirdre. Neither of them seemed disposed to say much, and he was glad of Polly’s hand on his arm as they moved away to mingle with the other guests.
There was a marquee on the lawn behind the house and people were strolling around the garden while others were at the buffet arranged on three sides of the marquee. ‘Let’s eat,’ begged Joseph. ‘I
say, I’m glad that’s over, that old lady turned me inside out—and what’s the matter with Professor Gervis? Hardly spoke to me, and that awful girl with him looked at me as though I’d gatecrashed.’
Polly gave him an encouraging pat. ‘Don’t worry, Joseph, I daresay Professor Gervis will talk to you presently, and Deirdre is like that with everyone! I’m famished, let’s pile our plates and find a quiet corner.’
They knew very few people there; consultants and their wives from the hospital, who nodded affably to Joseph and just looked at Polly, and the Professor’s Registrar, who passed the time of day with him, smiled at Polly and said he felt sure they had met before and then gaped in astonishment when she said sweetly: ‘Well, yes, we have. On the ward, you know.’
His ‘Good God!’ she took to be a compliment to her appearance.
The food was delicious—salmon patties, vol-au-vents, tiny sausage rolls, minute sandwiches which Joseph ate three at a time, little pancakes filled with prawns, iced cakes, ice creams, strawberries and cream, jellies and creams, and all the champagne imaginable. ‘This must have cost the earth,’ declared Joseph, ‘but of course, he can afford it. She’s a smasher, isn’t she? Diana, I mean.’
‘Yes, and such a nice person. I’m lucky to have her for a friend. Bob looks nice too.’ She looked around her. ‘I expect they’ll cut the cake presently.’
She accepted more champagne, nibbled at the cake, toasted the happy pair and listened to the speeches. Uncle Tom took a long time over his, the groom was brief, saying all the right things nicely, and the best man was pleasantly witty. Polly, whose shoes were beginning to pinch her, was relieved when Diana slipped away to change, leaving the guests to relax and gossip. Perhaps they could find a quiet corner of the garden for ten minutes and she could sit in her stockinged feet. She was on the point of suggesting this to Joseph when she was frustrated by the Professor appearing apparently from the ground beside them. ‘Sorry I haven’t had the time to have a chat,’ he said to Joseph, ‘but I do hope you’ve enjoyed it so far. Weddings are really a woman’s business, aren’t they? Once people start to go we might get a chance for a word. In the meantime, I’ve a young cousin who wants to meet you…’ He turned his head and a pretty girl in her late teens came towards them. ‘Jane, there’s Joseph, take him away for ten minutes and pick his brains—she’s decided she wants to be a surgeon, see if you can put her off. But don’t miss the going away party.’