by Betty Neels
Polly stood helplessly watching, wishing with all her heart that there was just one person she knew there to whom she could turn. But there wasn’t. She began to walk away as nonchalantly as possible, to be caught and held in a firm grip. ‘And now, my girl, we can have our little talk,’ observed the Professor.
‘We have nothing to talk about,’ said Polly briskly, ‘and there’s someone I see over there…’
He had brought her to an unwilling halt and was looking down at her bent head. ‘No, there isn’t—you know as well as I that you don’t know anyone here except Deirdre, and I hardly expect you to go out of your way to find her.’
‘That’s a beastly thing to say!’
‘Yes, isn’t it? Polly, why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me think it was you? You had only to say…’
‘The very last thing I would have done,’ she told him waspishly. ‘You were in such a foul temper that you wouldn’t have believed me—besides, I don’t tell tales on my friends.’
He said quite humbly: ‘If I apologise could we at least say good morning when we meet? I’m more sorry than I can say; it wouldn’t do any good at present to tell you why I was so angry, but if you will forgive me I’ll promise to count ten before I lose my temper again.’
Something in his voice made her look at him. He was tired and worried and she wondered why, but when he smiled she forgot that. ‘Of course I forgive you,’ she said bracingly, ‘and I must say I’m glad to have it settled, it’s so hard to keep out of your way in the hospital.’
He gave a great shout of laughter. ‘Oh, my dear girl—I’ve been forcibly put in mind of the White Rabbit on several occasions; brief glimpses of you rushing off to hide in the sluice or round the next corner!’ His eyes searched her face. ‘One day soon, we must have a talk.’ He wasn’t laughing now and because he was looking at her so intently she said hastily: ‘Oh, about Sir Ronald’s book,’ but he didn’t answer her at once and when he did all he said was: ‘You look so pretty, Polly, prettier than anyone else here.’
She goggled at him, as pink as her dress. ‘Oh, but I’m not,’ she assured him. ‘It’s only Laura Ashley, you know, and everyone else is in haute couture.’
‘Are they? I wouldn’t know, and if that’s Laura Ashley, whoever or whatever that is, then she or it deserves a medal.’
Polly beamed up at him. ‘It’s a her, she makes lovely clothes for women with no money—well, comparatively speaking, that is.’
‘He was laughing again. ‘Are you flat broke?’
‘Very nearly, but it’s almost payday.’ And that reminded her of something. ‘You said I’d never be a nurse,’ she remarked. ‘You didn’t mean it, did you?’
His face wasn’t tired or worried any more but blandly friendly. ‘Oh, yes, I did. We’ll discuss that some time.’
Polly had gone quite pale. ‘But I like it, and Sister Bates says I’m doing quite well, and there’s nothing else I want to be.’
‘That’s something else we have to discuss.’ He smiled down at her and then raised his head to look over her shoulder. ‘Here’s Deirdre,’ he observed. He didn’t sound pleased but he didn’t sound annoyed either. ‘Are they ready to leave?’ he asked as she reached them.
‘Yes, just about. I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Sam. What will people think?’
‘About what, Deirdre?’ He sounded uninterested, and she said crossly: ‘We are engaged, you know.’ She shot a look at Polly. ‘Where’s that boy you were with?’
Polly had no chance to open her mouth before the Professor said silkily: ‘Joseph? That boy is going to be a very good paediatrician one day.’
‘And I suppose Polly is going to be an equally good nurse?’ sneered Deirdre.
‘On the contrary,’ he ignored Polly’s flabbergasted look, ‘there’s no chance of that. Ah, here are Jane and Joseph; we’d all better go into the house, I suppose.’
And once there, he was instantly caught up in various groups of family and friends. Polly could see him, head well above everyone else’s, moving round the drawing room with Deirdre trying to keep beside him.
Diana and Bob came downstairs then and everyone surged into the hall and out on to the sweep where Bob’s car stood. There was a great throwing of confetti and rose-petals and a good deal of laughing and hand-shaking and kissing. Polly, standing on the edge of things with Joseph beside her, was surprised when Diana broke away from a circle of friends and flung her arms around her. ‘We’ll be back in three weeks and I’ll see you then; you must come and stay.’ She bent to whisper in Polly’s ear: ‘Doesn’t Deirdre look absolutely frightful? Just like Birds’ custard before it’s cooked!’ She kissed Polly’s cheek, blew a kiss at Joseph and flitted away. A moment later she and Bob had roared away, balloons billowing from the back of the car.
Everyone stood around talking for a bit and presently Polly said: ‘I think we could go, Joseph, don’t you?’ And when he looked a bit crestfallen: ‘Oh, I expect you want to say goodbye to Jane. I wonder where she is?’
Not far away, in fact, coming towards them with the Professor in her wake. ‘Joseph, come into my study; these two can have a chat over a cup of tea for ten minutes.’
And Joseph went willingly, leaving Polly and Jane standing there, but only for a moment, for Jeff, hard on their heels, had found two chairs and was offering cups of tea.
‘My feet are killing me,’ declared Polly.
‘So are mine,’ Jane grinned at her. ‘I say, he’s a dear, isn’t he?’
‘Joseph?’ asked Polly carefully, and was glad she had got it right. ‘Yes, he is. He’s marvellous with children too, and nice to us—you know, the student nurses. Some of the doctors don’t take any notice of us at all, but he’s friendly.’
‘I’d like to be a surgeon,’ said Jane shyly.
‘And why not? But I wonder what happens when you get married—I mean, could you go on being a surgeon and running a house and a husband and children too?’
Jane blushed. ‘Well, I don’t suppose so.’ She added ingenuously: ‘I suppose being a surgeon’s wife is the next best thing…’
‘I daresay it is,’ agreed Polly kindly, ‘and being married to someone who’s interested in surgery would make it awfully nice for him to come home to.’
Jane sipped her tea and thought about it. ‘I believe you’re right. Didn’t Diana look lovely?’
Polly nodded. ‘And so happy. I like weddings, don’t you?’
‘Yes, very much. Are you going to get married?’
‘Not that I know of,’ said Polly lightly.
‘Oh, I wondered—that is, I thought perhaps Joseph was yours.’
‘No, he’s not mine,’ said Polly gently. ‘We’re friends in a casual sort of way and when Professor Gervis heard that both of us had invitations he suggested that we should come together—we don’t know anyone here, you see.’
She watched Jane sigh with relief. ‘Joseph wondered if I’d like to see round the hospital one day,’ she observed.
‘You’ll like that, and he could explain everything to you,’ Polly put down her cup. ‘Here they are now, we’ll have to go. Do you live here?’
‘In Cheltenham.’ Jane looked round vaguely. ‘Mother and Father are somewhere here. We’re to stay to a family dinner party.’
Most of the guests were leaving now and Polly tapped Joseph’s sleeve. ‘We have to go, don’t we?’ she declared. ‘My father’s coming for me this evening…’ She gave Joseph’s arm a warning nip just in case he said something foolish; he knew as well as she did that she wouldn’t be going home, but he was quite capable of voicing surprise.
‘Then we mustn’t keep you,’ said the Professor, so readily that Polly wondered uneasily if they had outstayed their welcome. But he had asked Joseph to go with him to his study. She wished Jane goodbye and walked to the door to pause and bid goodbye to old Mrs Gervis, sitting in a wing chair close by.
‘Goodbye, my dear,’ said that lady, ‘or should it be au revoir, I wonder
?’ She chuckled and Polly smiled politely; she thought it unlikely that they would ever meet again. At the door she paused. Joseph was loitering with Jane, and she couldn’t blame him, all the same the Professor would probably want to get away as quickly as possible. She wished him goodbye and thanked him, then turned round to collect Joseph, who took no notice at all, he was too deep in conversation with Jane.
‘Young love,’ murmured the Professor into her ear. And then, testily: ‘Such a silly phrase! Love isn’t only for the young; it attacks all ages and at the most awkward times.’
There was nothing Polly could think of in answer to that. She began to walk down the drive to where the Ford stood in shabby isolation, the Professor beside her.
‘Don’t bother to wait,’ she suggested. ‘You must want to get back to your guests.’
‘You’re my guest,’ he pointed out.
‘You know very well what I mean. Ah, here’s Joseph.’ She thanked him for a second time and got into the car, then had to wait while Joseph expressed his thanks too. He seemed in no hurry, indeed, he appeared to be waiting for something, and when the Professor made the casual suggestion that instead of driving back to the hospital he should take Polly home, he agreed with alacrity. Polly, listening to them, wanted very much to box their complacent ears. She felt like a parcel to be delivered as conveniently as possible and she said so tartly. They looked at her with indulgence and the Professor explained: ‘It’s a good idea, isn’t it? I shall be travelling back tomorrow evening and will collect you on the way. I’m sure your mother will be delighted to see you and give Joseph some supper.’ He clapped Joseph on the shoulder. ‘In with you, boy!’
‘I have nothing with me,’ declared Polly crossly, ‘not even a toothbrush.’
‘Bound to be a spare one at home,’ observed the Professor, and smiled widely at her. ‘I’ll call for you about seven o’clock—do you suppose your mother would give me supper, or shall we have something on the way back?’
‘Mother will be delighted,’ said Polly, still cross, resisting the temptation to have dinner with him. With the entire family round her, it would be easier. She didn’t stop to explain to herself what would be easier.
The Professor stood back, looking positively smug, and Joseph shot away towards the village.
‘What on earth made him suggest that you should take me home?’ demanded Polly wrathfully.
‘No idea. He just said it seemed a good notion while we were in the study, you know.’
‘I might have guessed!’
Joseph gave her a sidelong glance. ‘I should have thought you would have been delighted to go home.’ He sounded aggrieved. ‘I’m going out of my way, but the Professor said…’
‘Don’t tell me, I know what he said.’ She saw Joseph’s downcast face and said instantly: ‘Oh, Joseph, how horrid I am—it’s good of you to bring me home and I’m most grateful, perhaps I can do something in return?’
He seized on that like a dog on a bone. ‘Jane and I,’ he began, ‘well—we like each. If ever you get the chance—I mean if you were to see her…’
‘I’ll laud you to the skies and I’ll do my best to have you there if ever we should meet. It’s not likely, but I won’t forget. She’s sweet, isn’t she? She talked about you, said you were going to take her round the hospital.’
‘Well, I’d have to get Professor Gervis’s permission.’
‘That won’t be any trouble, he told his Deirdre that you were going to be a very good surgeon one day. He sounded proud of you.’
‘I say, did he say that?’
At least someone’s happy, thought Polly sourly, and was instantly sorry for having such a mean thought.
Everyone was at home when they arrived; Joseph was absorbed into the family with no trouble at all and within an hour of their arrival he was sitting round the table with the rest of them, making inroads into Mrs Talbot’s quiche Lorraine and jacket potatoes. Nicely replete with the fruit tart which followed it, he was only too happy to reply to that lady’s carefully put questions about Professor Gervis.
‘And his fiancée?’ prompted Mrs Talbot.
Joseph looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, we don’t all like the same people, do we?’ he wanted to know. ‘I mean, she’s not quite my cup of tea, but I daresay she’s very nice when you get to know her.’
An answer which afforded Mrs Talbot a good deal of satisfaction.
He didn’t go until almost ten o’clock, declaring that the evening had been one to remember for a long time. He gave Polly a friendly pat on the shoulder with a careless: ‘See you on the ward, Polly,’ and added: ‘You won’t forget, will you?’
‘No, Joseph, I won’t. And thanks for bringing me back.’
‘Well, to be honest, I should never have thought of it, it was Professor Gervis who put the idea into my head.’
Polly spent a good deal of the night wondering why.
She put on an old dress in the morning and went to pick strawberries while Shylock accompanied her in close attendance. ‘And you might pop over to Dingle’s farm and get some cream, darling,’ suggested her mother. ‘Do you suppose a bacon and egg pie would do for supper?’
‘I don’t see why not,’ observed Polly. ‘If he doesn’t like it he can leave it.’
A remark which made her mother pause to look at her. ‘You looked very nice yesterday, darling,’ she said. ‘I suppose you’ll have to wear the outfit back this evening.’ She added hopefully: ‘You might need it.’
‘Very unlikely, but I’ll have to put it on, I haven’t anything else with me.’ Polly looked down at the limp cotton dress she was wearing. ‘I can’t go in this, can I?’
‘Certainly not, love. There’s only you and me for lunch, shall we have coffee and sandwiches?’
The Professor wasn’t mentioned for the rest of the day. After tea Polly changed into the pink skirt and blouse again, did her hair with more care than usual and took pains with her face, so that Cora and Marian professed themselves agreeably surprised.
‘I always said you’d look pretty if you took the trouble,’ said Cora, and, ‘You and your Greek verbs!’ observed Marian.
The Professor arrived at exactly seven o’clock and, in some way best known to himself, instantly became one of the family. He was ‘Sam’ within ten minutes, discussing education with his host, the wedding with his hostess, exchanging badinage with Cora and Marian and listening patiently to Ben’s questions about his car. Polly had to admit that towards herself his manner was exactly right; friendly, casual and uninterested.
It was while they were finishing the last of Mrs Talbot’s bacon and egg pie that that lady, handing out second helpings, asked in a voice of transparent innocence: ‘And you, Sam? When are you getting married?’
Everyone looked at him, except Polly, who looked at her plate.
‘I hope very soon, Mrs Talbot. One or two small matters to clear up first, of course, before we can decide on the date.’
‘Of course. I hope you’ll ask us to the wedding.’
‘I can promise you I shall. What a splendid cook you are, Mrs Talbot; it’s to be hoped that your daughters follow in your footsteps.’
‘Oh, they do, I made sure of that. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach—well, one of the ways!’
They laughed together and presently after coffee he suggested reluctantly that he and Polly should leave.
Sitting beside him was a delight in itself, but finding something to talk about was another matter. Polly tried the weather, the wedding, and the forthcoming publication of Sir Ronald’s book, but somehow the conversation petered out each time, and they finished the journey in silence while she tried feverishly to think of some suitable topic about which to talk. It was disconcerting when he said, as they turned into the hospital forecourt:
‘Don’t try so hard, Polly. We don’t need to talk, you know.’ He went on easily: ‘I’m going to operate on Baby Gibbs tomorrow, would you like to accompany him to theatre? I think you might
be interested.’
‘I’d like that, but I daresay Sister Bates wouldn’t let me.’
He leaned across her and opened the door. ‘Well, we’ll see, shall we?’ He reached behind and got her case. ‘Forgive me if I don’t get out—I’ve got a date…’
Deirdre, of course. Polly thanked him nicely and got out briskly, her goodnight just as brisk. On the way to her room she wondered why on earth he had gone out of his way to drive her back. Hardly for the pleasure of her company, she decided ruefully. I might just as well have held my tongue for the whole trip, she told herself crossly as she tidied her wedding finery away in the very back of her clothes cupboard.
It was quite late by now, but not too late for her friends to gather round in her room, drinking mugs of tea from the pot they had brewed by the light of a torch because it was well past the time for the home lights to be out. The talk, naturally enough, was of the wedding, especially the women’s clothes, and it was an hour later before Polly got herself into bed, too tired by now to think two sensible thoughts together.
And in the morning there was Sister Bates, telling her sharply that she was to take Baby Gibbs to theatre and she was to be sure to get out in time if she felt faint. ‘I can’t think why Professor Gervis wants you, it’s not as though we’re short-staffed today.’ She shot an inquisitive glance at Polly. ‘I suppose he’s got his reasons.’