by Betty Neels
Jason was well down the other side of the hump now and the bull had stopped to look at him, and George and Polly had paused because they had seen Julius. Letitia, from her vantage point at the gate, thought Jason was getting dangerously close to the bull now and he had quite a long way to run back too, and it was uphill; he would never do it. She went cold inside as she turned to see how Julius was getting on. He had snatched up Polly and had Georgina by the hand and was racing back to the little gate; everything was going to be right after all, just so long as the bull stayed where he was.
But he didn’t—he tossed his great head, then lowered it and advanced at a sharp trot; he didn’t think much of Jason, who moved back up the hump to make sure that the others were safe, and they were; it remained only for him to get himself away. Letitia knew then that he would never do it; the bull, with nothing else to occupy his mind, was bent on reaching him as quickly as possible. She climbed the gate neatly and began to run down the hump so that the beast would see her too. He was still some distance away, but she didn’t like the way he stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of her and changed course in her direction. But the small distraction had given Jason the chance he needed, he had gained the crown of the hump and was racing towards her. She turned and ran too, breathless with fright, quite sure that she would be able to get over the gate before the bull reached her. But she need not have worried; Jason caught up with her within yards of it, picked her up and tossed her over it as though she had been thistledown instead of a healthy girl, and leapt after her.
She had fallen softly enough into grass and rather mushy weeds; he plucked her to her feet and brushed her down, but the front of her dress was stained and ruined; Letitia thanked heaven that it had been so cheap and when he asked her if she was all right, nodded, staring at him because, incredibly, he was laughing. And he was only a little out of breath too, whereas she had almost none at all, and what she had she lost in a gasp of fright as the bull fetched up within feet of them, only on the other side of the gate. He glared at them for a moment, then tossed his head and strolled away, and Letitia’s gasp turned to a weak giggle.
Jason laughed again, a great shout of laughter, and turned her round to face him. ‘Dear girl,’ he said, ‘dear brave girl,’ and bent to kiss her.
Sudden tears filled her eyes. ‘Oh, Jason,’ she wailed, ‘I thought…’
She managed to stop herself just in time as he put an avuncular arm round her shoulders and gave her a gentle hug, and presently, when she gave a resolute sniff, took out his handkerchief and mopped her face for her. And only just in time, for Julius came round the bend in the path to halt and say:
‘You’re all right, both of you? I can never thank you enough.’ He smiled at them both, his face white and strained. ‘Polly found it all quite fun.’ His eyes slid over Letitia’s blotchy face. ‘Though I can’t say I did. I left Georgina sitting in the hedge having a little weep, but I had to make sure you two were all right—we saw you running like hares.’
‘A nasty moment,’ agreed Jason, ‘and if it hadn’t been for our Tishy here I don’t think I should have made it.’ He took his handkerchief from her hand and gave her a little push. ‘Run down the path to George,’ he suggested, ‘we’ll follow,’ and when she hesitated: ‘Go along, Letitia, we’ll explain to the others.’
She went then, grateful to him for realizing that she wasn’t in a fit state to answer a barrage of questions for the moment. The rest of the party had been on the other side of the stream when she had fetched Julius; she could hear them now, pounding up the path, eager to help. She heard Karel’s: ‘I say, what’s up?’ as she rounded the bend in the path and saw George with Polly on her lap. Polly was singing to herself and her mother had finished her little weep. ‘And if only,’ said Letitia to herself, ‘I could look like that when I cry, instead of puffy and red.’ She went and sat down in the hedge too, saying brightly: ‘My goodness, what a scare! I’m still shaking—and I howled all over Jason, too.’ She added: ‘He was laughing!’
Georgina smiled a little. ‘Men do the strangest things sometimes. You were so quick and brave, Tishy. Thank you, both of you,’ she kissed Letitia’s cheek. ‘Weren’t you afraid?’
‘Terrified, and I should never have known what to do—it was Jason. I didn’t know Julius could run like that.’
‘Julius can do anything,’ stated his wife simply. ‘But you and Jason—I can never thank you enough…’ She broke off at the precipitate arrival of Cor and Beatrix who flung themselves upon her with cries of: ‘George, darling George, are you all right? Julius sent us to look after Polly so’s you can rest a bit.’
The two girls watched the children go, this time with a delighted Polly between them. ‘Dear Julius,’ said Georgina, ‘I expect he thinks I’m still crying.’ They smiled at each other and Letitia said: ‘You don’t look a bit as though you had. I expect I’m still blotchy.’
‘Only a little, and I don’t think anyone will notice—sometimes men don’t see things which we think matter frightfully.’
They got to their feet presently and followed the children, to join the group standing by the gate, and after the episode of the bull had been well and truly discussed they all wandered down to where they had had the picnic, and everyone sat down again and talked about it still more. Karel had attached himself to Letitia and his light, cheerful chatter made her laugh a good deal as well as serving to soothe her jumpy nerves, but even while she smiled at his jokes she was wondering why it was that Jason had wandered off with Cor and Franz, with no more than a smile for her.
Presently they began to wander back to the house in twos and threes, to change for the evening before meeting in the drawing room for drinks. Letitia and Margo were to be driven back to St Athel’s later that evening, and although no one had actually said so, she had taken it for granted that it was to be Jason who would drive them, but when they came down to the hall, it was Karel who was waiting for them, and going the rounds, shaking hands and murmuring nothings. Letitia, offering a hand to Jason, could see no sign of disappointment on his face. Indeed, he wished her a good journey, assuring her that Karel was just the companion to make the drive a pleasant one. He made no mention of seeing her again either, so that she said hesitantly: ‘Well, I hope you have a good journey too, you and Katrina—it was nice meeting her, I shall tell Paula all about it when I go home.’
Letitia stared into his impassive face, longing to say a great many things she knew she would never utter. ‘Good-bye,’ she said at last, and when he replied: ‘Tot ziens’, she turned away with a puzzled face and promptly embarked on a gushing conversation with Franz, who looked taken aback but was too polite to show it.
She sat in front with Karel this time and he kept the conversation going at a rate which rivalled his speed, and made her laugh a good deal as well. And when they arrived at the hospital and he suggested that she might like to spend an evening with him, Letitia agreed, mainly, as she admitted to herself later, because there was a chance that he might talk about Jason. They parted on the friendliest of terms, and as she went with Margo to the Nurses’ Home, her sister remarked: ‘What a nice boy he is,’ and added innocently, ‘You get on very well together, Tishy.’
Letitia pushed the door of the home open and they went in together. She said ‘Yes,’ suddenly beset with the appalling thought that perhaps Julius, or worse, Jason, had told him to be nice to her. They climbed the stairs to the first landing, where Margo had her room in the Sisters’ wing, whereas Letitia was two floors higher. ‘Tishy,’ began her sister, ‘Jason and I were talking—he has a plan; did he tell you about it?’
Letitia mumbled a no and managed a yawn. She didn’t want to talk about him. She was still sore from his casual good-bye; she didn’t like him at all even while she loved him so fiercely. ‘I’m tired,’ she declared, ‘and I’m on early in the morning—won’t another time do to tell me? I don’t suppose it’s important.’
‘Not really,’ Margo gave her a thought
ful look. ‘Tishy, I was beginning to think you’d got over Mike; that you’d discovered that he was the bad apple in the barrel, but I’m not so sure.’ She kissed her lightly. ‘Poor little Tishy!’
‘I’m perfectly all right and I’ve quite got over Mike,’ declared Letitia peevishly, and at the same time wondered what Jason and Margo had been planning together. She wished Margo good night and went to bed, telling herself that the quicker she got him out of her system the better.
Impossible, because he was there the next morning, going unhurriedly across the recovery room to theatre, bidding her a cheerful good morning as he went. She gaped, muttered incoherently at him and then busied herself laying a tray which was already laid: she simply had to do something to cover the wave of delight which had engulfed her; not that it would have mattered if she had allowed her feelings to show, for he didn’t pause for one second, but disappeared through the doors without a second glance. Letitia didn’t see him again until he came out to inspect the first case an hour or more later; a gastrectomy that wasn’t looking too good. They worked on the man together, silent save for Jason’s brief directions, and when the patient was fit enough to go back to the ward, he went back into theatre with the smallest of nods.
And so the day wore on, with their dinner cut short because an emergency Caesarean was rushed in as the last case went down. The theatre filled rapidly; students, another doctor to see to the baby and a nurse to see to the doctor, the surgeon and his assistant. Sister and a handful of nurses—and Letitia, waiting quietly by the door, ready to take over the patient, her eyes on Jason, giving the anaesthetic. She had been with him when he had given the preliminary injection and started the anaesthetic, placidly reassuring towards his patient, talking in a quiet voice as he popped the needle in so that the anxious young woman smiled as she closed her eyes. Letitia remembered that now as she studied his bent head—but only for a moment, for the baby was there and everyone was smiling broadly, as they always did when there was a Caesar in theatre. When the small creature gave a peevish whimper, she sighed with relief in unison with everyone else there. There was something dramatic about a Caesar and satisfying as well.
Letitia took charge of her patient again, and when she had come round, stood back so that Mr Toms, the surgeon, could announce the news that she had a son before Letitia saw her back to the ward. After that there was the tidying up to do before she could rush down for some sort of a meal. She gobbled it as fast as she could and raced back; the afternoon list was due to start in five minutes and Staff Nurse Wills, who usually relieved her, had an afternoon off, leaving Mrs Mead and her to cope. The list wasn’t a long one, thank heaven, so she got back, still chewing, with seconds to spare.
They were finished by half past four, and the last case had been obligingly quick in regaining consciousness once more, so that soon after five o’clock Mrs Mead was on the point of leaving, and Letitia, slapping instruments into their proper places with brisk efficiency, was trying to decide what she would do with her evening. Not much, she decided; she had very little money in the first place and what she had she must save so that she could go home on her next days off—she liked to go once a month, even though it meant going without puddings at dinner and the cinema. She would wash her hair, she decided, do her smalls, make a pot of tea and eat the rest of the biscuits she had, then have a leisurely bath before the others came off duty, and get into bed early with a book. She placed the last airway into its correct position and skipped along to the changing room. Jason was leaning against its door, looking like a man who had never done a day’s work in his life. He picked a thread off the sleeve of his elegant suit and said: ‘Hullo, I’ve been waiting for you, Letitia.’
‘Me?’ It sounded stupid, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
‘You.’ He smiled and her heart turned over. ‘Will you have dinner with me, dear girl?’
‘No,’ said Letitia.
He sighed. ‘I’m not supposed to be here, you know,’ he pointed out with patience, ‘but something went wrong yesterday, didn’t it?—before then, perhaps. You closed up like a clam—I was rather looking forward to the week-end at George’s, but you had iced over…only when you came charging to my rescue at the picnic did you forget whatever it was. What was it, Letitia?’
He put out a hand and plucked her theatre cap from her head, so that her hair stood out in untidy wisps around her face. ‘Remember I’m only an uncle type—you can tell me.’
‘No,’ repeated Letitia, fighting a desire to fling herself at him just as though he were an uncle—that was the last thing he was.
‘Something someone said,’ persisted Jason, just as though she hadn’t spoken. He watched her face. ‘Something I said—ah, now we have it! Tell me, dear girl. It will be quicker, you know, for I intend to stay here until you do.’
She took a quick look; he meant what he said. She took a deep breath and keeping her eyes on his face, began: ‘I was here—last week, when you and Julius came through after the list. You were going out to dinner with someone called Wibecke. I was at the sink,’ she jerked her head backwards, ‘behind that door, and I was going to come out so that you would know that I was there, only before I could, you said…’ She paused, not because she had forgotten a single word of it, but so that she might steady her voice.
‘I remember exactly what we—what I said; that you were a nice girl and not as plain as all that.’ He spoke gently, his eyes very intent.
She looked away at last. ‘That wasn’t as bad as the bit before. You said “With Tishy?” as though the very idea appalled you, and now you’ve got the cheek to ask me out to dinner with you.’ Her voice was bitter and regrettably wobbly. ‘Are you doing penance or something?’ She choked on her rage and when he put out a hand and turned her face to his, she tried to pull away.
‘No, don’t do that, Letitia,’ he spoke firmly. ‘I’m sorry you overheard what I said, but get this into your head—I wasn’t appalled, only very surprised. You see, I had been warned that you were off men for the time being; it never occurred to me that you would agree to come out with me even if I had asked you, and I didn’t know you very well then, did I? and I’ve known Wibecke for years. And as for the rest: you are a nice girl, and you aren’t all that plain—you grow on one, you know, and one day you will grow on some man so much that he’ll discover that you’re the prettiest girl in the world for him.’ He smiled down at her. ‘You’re a little goose, and I’ve been clumsy and I’m more sorry than I can say. I should like to take you out very much. The offer,’ he added gravely, ‘is being made entirely without pressure or suggestion from any one else.’
It was weak of her to give in—she knew that. He thought of her as a nice, plain girl, he had just said so, quite safe to take out and unlikely to raise his pulse by a single beat. But she knew that he was a friend, when he added: ‘Wear that pretty green dress, dear girl,’ she said quite meekly: ‘Very well, Jason.’
CHAPTER SIX
BECAUSE IT WAS still early in the evening, he took her to a restaurant which catered for theatregoers, Le Gaulois in Chancery Lane. She had read of it in the glossy magazines but she had never expected to see it from the inside. Jason ushered her in, explaining: ‘We’re not going to a theatre, but we can talk here in peace and eat early.’
It was a small place and very French, already more than half full as they were shown to their table. When they were seated, Letitia asked in a small voice: ‘Were you so sure that I should come?’
His brows rose a fraction, but his voice was friendly. ‘I booked a table while you were changing.’ He smiled a little then and went on: ‘I’m famished—we had a scratch meal at midday, didn’t we? We’ll have a drink and decide what to order, shall we?’
She sipped her Dubonnet and studied the menu. There was a great deal to choose from and to her at least it was wildly expensive. She remembered the canteen at the hospital, where they all counted their money before they decided what to eat, and uncannily he rea
d her thoughts. ‘The food’s pretty basic at St Athel’s, isn’t it? What does it cost you to eat there?’
He asked the question with seeming idleness so that she was lulled into an unthinking answer. ‘Well, I try to keep it down to three or four pounds a day, less if I can—we can’t get pudding for that or any of the extras, but we all have tea and biscuits in our rooms, you know, and we share those round—and we buy chips.’
His expression didn’t alter, only his eyes narrowed so that she was unable to read the expression in his face. She went on: ‘Of course, we all eat too much starch, but it’s nice and filling even though it’s awfully bad for our figures.’
His voice was pleasantly detached. ‘There doesn’t seem much wrong with yours, dear girl,’ and he twinkled at her so nicely that she chuckled.
‘Well, I run round rather a lot, don’t I?’
‘You do—you work damned hard. I like your Mrs Mead, by the way. What a sensible woman she is—your right hand, I presume.’
The talk drifted to the shared interest of their work, and it was several minutes before he asked: ‘Now, what shall we have? How about pâté for a start? We could follow it with salmon—they do it very nicely here with asparagus tips and quenelles of sole.’
Letitia wasn’t at all sure what a quenelle was, but it sounded nice. She agreed happily, disposed of the pâté when it came with real pleasure, and ate the salmon which followed it with an excellent appetite, and when she sipped the wine he had taken time in ordering, she said appropriately: ‘Oh, claret, isn’t it?’
He looked at her with some interest. ‘How delightful to take out a girl who doesn’t think only in terms of champagne and sherry. Where did you get your knowledge from? Do wines interest you?’