Wish with the Candles

by Betty Neels

  Justin didn’t come at all the next day, although he sent a message via Brenda expressing the hope that she was improving. But Staff came, full of cheerful and amusing gossip and some rather touching messages from the theatre staff. It was only as she was on the point of leaving that she mentioned that the professor had finished his list at three o’clock that afternoon.

  ‘Oh?’ said Emma sharply. ‘Why was that?’

  ‘Don’t know, Sister, and I’d never dare to ask him. He’s a dear, isn’t he? but very—you know, he’s not the sort of person you’d…’ She stopped again and Emma, helping her out, said, ‘I know just what you mean, Staff. What’s on for tomorrow?’

  Staff told her. An all-day list, it seemed. Emma decided he wouldn’t be coming to see her tomorrow either, and really, she told herself sternly, why should he? He had brought books and magazines and flowers and made sure that she was recovering; there was no need for him to see her again. Probably he had forgotten that she would be going home in three days and that he would be gone before she got back to work, and that might be a good thing, because then they wouldn’t have to say goodbye.

  She pecked at her supper, her temper not improved by the appearance of the night staff nurse at eight o’clock—a thin nervous young woman with a small frustrated face peering through a wild hair arrangement. She asked Emma fussy questions in a nervous way and Emma answered politely, refused a sleeping tablet and then listened with mounting irritation to a series of grumbles encompassing the nursing profession in general, night duty in particular, the patients, the food and the rudeness of an anaesthetist who had hauled her over the coals because a drip had gone into the tissues. ‘As though I could help it, Sister,’ moaned the girl.

  Emma bit back the retort she longed to make and set about soothing her instead, for there were twenty odd patients in the main ward; if Night Nurse was upset she might possibly pass on her feelings to them, which would mean a night when bells pinged every few minutes and the junior nurse would be run off her feet shaking up pillows and warming milk. It was all wrong, but Emma knew from experience that it could happen; she set about calming her visitor and presently had the satisfaction of seeing her look more cheerful.

  She was almost asleep when Brenda came in and chuckled hazily at her friend’s observation on Staff Nurse Foster. ‘Poor girl,’ said Brenda, ‘everything’s a major disaster to her and everyone’s in league against her, especially me. How’s the boy-friend?’

  The question was asked briskly and Emma, who was only half awake, looked bewildered. ‘I haven’t got one.’

  ‘The professor, silly.’

  ‘He’s not—I work for him.’

  ‘My mistake, ducky. As I said, he must prize your services very highly.’

  ‘Very likely,’ said Emma a little tartly, ‘I work hard.’

  ‘Which reminds me,’ said Brenda, ‘so do I. I’d better show my face in the ward. ‘Bye, Emma—see you in the morning.’

  The next day was long, dull and despite the books, magazines and visits from various of her friends, boring. Even the visit of the Principal Nursing Officer with the confirmation of three weeks’ sick leave failed to excite Emma. By six o’clock she was quite peevish and decided that supper in bed with one of the books would be preferable to sitting in a chair hoping for Justin to come in. She kicked off her shoes pettishly because undressing was a wearisome business, and tugged at the zip on the back of her dress. It ran smoothly for several inches and then stuck, and however hard she pulled, it stayed stuck; for Emma this, to come at the end of a day she hadn’t in the least enjoyed, was the last straw. Her usual even temper, already badly frayed, dissolved into childish tantrums so that when there was a brief knock on the door as it opened, she snapped, ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake come in and get me out of this wretched dress—the zip’s caught.’

  She didn’t bother to look round but went on fumbling at the back of her dress, aware that added to everything else, her stitches were pulling, but her fingers froze as Justin said cheerfully, ‘Take your fingers away, girl, I can’t see unless you do—and stand still.’

  She stood still while he worked the zip free, undid it to its length, inquired at his most placid, ‘Is this your dressing-gown—this pink thing? Get out of that dress and put it on,’ and when she hesitated: ‘I can never understand why a girl can appear on a beach in next to nothing and yet be horrified at the idea of being seen in her undies. I should have thought that a bikini—er—exposed a good deal more of her person. Now be quick, Emma, for I want to talk to you.’

  His voice was calm and reassuringly matter-of-fact. She did as she was told and slipped her arms into the dressing-gown he was holding out to her.

  ‘Jump into bed,’ he advised. ‘You can finish undressing later.’

  So she got into bed, still without words, but he didn’t appear to have noticed her silence, for he made himself comfortable in the chair she had vacated, remarking, ‘You seemed low-spirited yesterday. I’ve brought some champagne for you. Brenda has it—she’ll see that you get a glass with your lunch. It will cheer you up.’

  She looked at him then, her temper quite evaporated and smiled a little shyly. ‘That’s very…’ she began, and then stopped because she was about to tell him that he was kind again and it really would not do. ‘What a lovely surprise,’ she amended. ‘Thank you.’

  He settled more comfortably in his chair, gave her a sharp glance and asked carelessly, ‘Have you any plans?’

  Emma shook her head, aware that instead of making plans like any sensible girl would, she wasted her days thinking about him.

  ‘I shall go home,’ she replied. ‘I—I can potter in the garden, you know, and Kitty will be there, so it won’t be too hard on Mother.’

  The professor crossed one leg over the other. ‘I’m going over to Holland very shortly—just for a couple of days; I have some business to see to. Will you and Kitty travel with me and spend two or three weeks at my home? My aunt will be delighted to have you, she loves company and has frequently spoken of you.’

  Emma opened her mouth and then prudently closed it again before she said something rash. Her instant desire had been to say yes; her pulse rate had jumped alarmingly at the mere idea. She said slowly, ‘How kind,’ and watched him smile. ‘Kitty?’ she began again.

  ‘Kitty thinks it to be a splendid idea and so does your mother.’ He answered casually, just as though, thought Emma crossly, it was of no importance to him what her own opinion of his plans would be. She frowned and he got to his feet and made his leisurely way to the door, saying:

  ‘There’s plenty of time to decide if you like the idea or not; I don’t plan to go before Friday.’ His hand was on the door when Emma found her voice.

  ‘It sounds lovely,’ she began, ‘and I’m sorry I didn’t—wasn’t more…I’ve had a beastly day,’ she added by way of explanation, an explanation which seemed to satisfy him, for he came back and sat down on the bed and said pleasantly:

  ‘It will at least make a change for you and it is so quiet there you won’t tire yourself out dashing around. The garden is most pleasant to sit in and there are some delightful walks when you feel like it, and we have many friends, you won’t lack for company.’

  Only yours, thought Emma. If she stayed away for three weeks he would be on the point of leaving the hospital; he might even be gone. She refused to think of it—three weeks was a long time, miracles happened still; one might happen for her. She smiled suddenly. ‘I think I’d like to come very much, Justin, if you’re sure your aunt…?’

  He said briefly, ‘I’m sure. We’ll go on Friday evening, there’s a night ferry to Zeebrugge. You’ll be able to get some sleep on board and we can be home shortly after breakfast. That gives me the rest of the day to settle my affairs and a few hours of leisure on Sunday before I return.’

  ‘That’s not very long.’

  He turned away from her and looked out of the window at the view of Southampton’s rooftops. ‘I shall have time
enough to do what I wish to do. You think you like the idea, then?’

  Emma could think of nothing she would like better. She said so, her tongue rather more guarded than her thoughts. ‘Do you want us to come here and meet you on Friday evening?’ she wanted to know.

  ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to, Emma. We’re not operating until the afternoon and it’s quite a heavy list. I doubt if I’m free before five. Could Kitty drive you back in your car?’

  ‘Of course—she’s going to fetch me on Wednesday anyway. That gives us a day to get packed.’

  He nodded and got to his feet once more. ‘I must go, I’m due in theatre in a few minutes.’

  Emma sat up in bed. ‘An emergency?’ and when he nodded again, ‘Who’s taking? Mary Worth?’ Mary was another friend and Night Theatre Sister.

  ‘Yes. I hadn’t met her before. A very attractive girl,’ a remark which was softened by, ‘I miss you, Emma,’ as he went through the door.

  She said quickly before he could close it behind him, ‘That’s only because you’ve got used to me. Mary is super at her job, so is Staff…’

  He didn’t allow her to finish but cut through her observations with placid firmness. ‘Your mistake, Emma. I shall never get used to you.’

  The door shut quietly behind him.

  Kitty, when she came to fetch Emma home, was surprisingly matter-of-fact about Justin’s invitation, to Emma’s tentative opinion that he seemed to be going to unnecessary lengths, inviting them both at a moment’s notice, she replied rather dampingly, ‘But why ever shouldn’t he, Emma? He’s only returning hospitality, after all, and he knows you’ll be better for a holiday and I suppose he wants you back in the theatre as soon as possible for everyone’s benefit. And what more natural than asking me along too so that you won’t be lonely? He’s not going to be there, you know.’

  Which seemed an argument Emma had no ready answer for.

  She spent the short stay at home in packing, rather languidly because she still felt surprisingly fragile. In the end Kitty did it for her, adding quite a few clothes she had never intended to take with her, but as Kitty explained, they never knew; they might be asked to a party or something similar and feel utter fools if they hadn’t anything to wear. ‘I’ve put in your brown and white,’ she continued, ‘and that orange crêpe with the apron top and the white blouse, and I’ve put in another cotton dress. Really, Emma, we’re going for almost three weeks and you don’t have to wear the same old thing every day—supposing Justin were to come over and take us out?’

  ‘That’s most unlikely,’ said Emma rather woodenly. ‘He won’t have time.’

  ‘No? Well, perhaps Will could pop over.’

  ‘Will? Why on earth should Will want to see us? We’re not going for ever.’

  ‘Not us—me,’ said Kitty in a satisfied voice. ‘He likes me—and I like him.’ She snapped the case she had packed closed. ‘There, now we’re ready, we can have a lazy morning and leave after lunch.’

  They arrived at William and Mary’s with ten minutes to spare and Justin and Will came out of the Cardiac Thoracic Unit as Kitty parked untidily between Home Sister’s elderly, well-cared-for Morris and the hospital secretary’s dignified Rover.

  Kitty bounced out of the car to meet them. ‘You see we’re on time,’ she cried. ‘Hullo, both of you. The luggage is in the boot.’

  ‘And before we take it out give me the keys,’ said Will, ‘and I’ll park this jalopy of yours in a straight line—Women!’ he added scornfully.

  ‘Yes, but aren’t we nice?’ Kitty remarked with engaging self-confidence. ‘Besides, it’s Emma’s car and she drives very well.’ And Emma, getting out, caught Justin’s eye and had the grace to blush.

  It was Kitty who decided airily that she would travel in front with Justin so that Emma could have the whole of the back seat to herself in case she wanted to sleep or put her feet up. Emma had no wish to put her feet up and would have said so if Justin hadn’t so readily agreed that it seemed a capital idea. So she declared that she would be marvellously comfortable in the Rolls’ luxurious back and would very likely go to sleep, and was in fact so quiet that she might well have been sleeping, while in fact she was wide awake, stifling a tendency to ill-humour, a fact which didn’t prevent her, when they stopped for a meal, from declaring that she was perfectly happy where she was and refusing, quite emphatically, Justin’s offer for her to sit in front with him for the remainder of the journey. It was a pity that he didn’t seem to mind in the least, merely remarking, ‘Just as you like, Emma,’ and then turning to make some laughing remark to Kitty. Emma stared out of the window and decided that she hated him.

  They were first in the queue of cars for the ferry and as the late evening was clear and warm, they got out and strolled round until it was time to embark, and under the influence of the professor’s gentle conversation, Emma recovered her good temper and went off cheerfully enough with Kitty to their cabin with the injunction from Justin to meet him in ten minutes in the ship’s bar. The cabin was decidedly more comfortable than the one Emma and her mother had occupied when they had returned from their holiday and she looked around with something like suspicion.

  ‘Kitty, who booked the cabins? I mean, this one must have cost a lot more…’

  ‘It’s all right, Emma,’ said Kitty. She tossed her handbag on the upper berth and studied her face in the little mirror. ‘Mother said not to worry, she had some dividends she hadn’t expected and we’re to settle with her later on.’

  It sounded reasonable enough. Emma poked at her hair. She looked pale and dull, she thought, staring at her reflection. Even the blue dress which suited her so well looked all wrong; not that it mattered, Justin wouldn’t notice.

  He was waiting for them at a table by a window so that they could see the lighted quayside. They drank Campari while he entertained them with a gentle flow of conversation which she found so soothing even though she suspected that he used it as a means to prevent anyone else taking the conversation into their own hands and probably asking too many questions.

  She sipped her drink, frowning a little. She had a number of questions she would dearly love to ask him—about his home, and his aunt and Saskia—and how were they returning at the end of their stay? The information he had offered with his invitation had been scant and it seemed he had no wish to enlarge upon it. Emboldened by the Campari, she waited until there was pause in the conversation and asked:

  ‘Why have you asked us to stay at your home, Justin?’

  She was aware of the keen look he gave her, but his voice was casual and friendly. ‘Why not?’ he countered. ‘It all fits so well—I happen to be going over to Holland, you have a week or so to spare, my aunt enjoys guests and Saskia will be delighted to improve her English.’

  He gave her a bland smile and she gave up and when, a minute later, he suggested that they might like to get some sleep, she got obediently to her feet, wished him good night, and followed Kitty down to their cabin.

  It was barely half past four in the morning when Justin eased the Rolls over the cobbled streets of Zeebrugge towards the Dutch border. Emma, wide awake after several hours’ sleep and refreshed with the tea and toast the stewardess had brought them, found herself sitting beside Justin looking out on to a pale grey morning which threatened rain.

  Justin, she observed from a quick sidelong glance, looked as though he had slept the clock round; he also was as impeccably turned out as he always was. She wondered how he did it. ‘Did you sleep?’ she asked him.

  ‘Soundly. And you?’

  ‘Oh yes, though it was a short night. It’s nice now, though, isn’t it?’ She gazed out at the sleeping houses lining the road, so quiet and the sun not quite up and almost no traffic and no people. ‘There’s such a lot to see, Kitty should be sitting here.’

  The car sped through Blankenbugge and then past its suburbs and villas.

  ‘No,’ said Justin, ‘you should be here, Emma. Where you belong.’

&n
bsp; She stared ahead at the road unwinding before the car’s speed. What exactly did he mean? She stole a look at him and he looked at her briefly and smiled. ‘What—no answer to that, Emma?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m not sure what you meant.’

  ‘No? I’ll explain later. Here’s the turning to Sluis,’ he glanced at his watch. ‘I think we may reach Breskens in time to have coffee before the ferry is due.

  They had almost twenty minutes to spare, time enough to drink their coffee and eat long soft rolls stuffed with thinly cut cheese while Justin patiently answered Kitty’s endless questions about their journey, and once on the ferry he continued to do so, apologizing to Emma because she had been that way before and it might be a little boring for her to hear it all again. She smiled and nodded and looked the other way to his pointing finger while he addressed himself to Kitty, but when they went down to the car once more and she offered to sit in the back he said instantly, ‘No, Emma—stay in front, for I can see that Kitty is already half asleep and I should hate to keep her awake while I prosed on about churches and bridges.’

  They took the big dyke road, avoiding Zierikzee as they crossed to Bruinesse and so to the island of Overflakkee. One more sea dyke and they were on the motorway to Rotterdam and presently weaving in and out of the complexity of morning traffic in that city, to turn away from it at length on to the Gouda road and then, finally, turn off once more to Oudewater.

  They entered the little town from its opposite end this time and Justin drove slowly so that Emma could point out to Kitty where she and their mother had stayed and the little hall where they had been weighed to prove that they weren’t witches. The small place was cheerful and bustling under the still grey sky and Kitty declared that she would have to visit at the earliest possible opportunity. ‘And where’s your house, Justin?’ she wanted to know.

  ‘A mile or so outside the town,’ he told her. They were outside the town now, driving down the country road Emma remembered so well, with its trees and its villas and the farms set well back in the fields, and at last Justin’s house, standing solidly behind its ornamental iron gates, open to receive them.