When Two Paths Meet

by Neels, Betty

  She passed Jason his cup and saucer and, since the silence had gone on too long, said, ‘You’ve been very kind, I really am most grateful.’

  He smiled a little and sat back in his chair, drinking his coffee, while she sought anxiously for something to say. It was of no use; all she could think of was the fact that she was hopelessly in love with him. She put down her cup, annoyed that her hand shook so that it rattled in the saucer. ‘If you don’t mind,’ she said with a kind of polite desperation, ‘I think I had better go.’

  The doctor made no move. ‘Running away, Katie?’ he asked blandly.

  It was really too much. ‘Yes, if you must know, I am.’

  ‘Am I to know why?’

  She studied his face. He knew; she felt cold at the thought, and then went very red. ‘You know already.’ She got up and started towards the door, but he was there before her, his arms holding her close. She stared up into his face; he wasn’t smiling, indeed, he looked almost stern.

  ‘Will you marry me, Katie? This isn’t the first time I’ve asked this question, is it, and you’ve never quite believed me, have you? But you can’t deny your love for ever.’

  She said steadily, ‘No—but there’s Dodie...’

  ‘Shall we forget about Dodie? I have asked you to marry me, Katie. I believe that you love me, perhaps not very much as yet, but love grows if you let it.’

  She wanted to tell him that she already loved him so much that it had engulfed her whole life, but she stopped herself in time. She said soberly, ‘Well, yes, I think I do love you, Jason, but I don’t know you very well, if you see what I mean.’

  He laughed a little. ‘We’ll have to remedy that. I’ll not hurry you, my dear. Just get used to the idea of marrying me in the not too distant future.’ He bent his head and kissed her gently. ‘Now I’m going to take you back to Mrs Potts.’

  During the short drive he talked trivialities, opened the door for her, kissed her again, just as gently, and waited while she went indoors. Standing in the little hall, she reflected that he had said nothing about seeing her again, and took comfort from the fact that he wasn’t given to unnecessary talk. Of course he would see her again.

  She bade Mrs Potts goodnight without going into the kitchen, and went upstairs to her room, where she sat down on the bed and collected her excited thoughts. It was all her dreams come true, and so— she sought for the word—quietly. She had always imagined that a proposal would be thrilling and exciting, but she hadn’t felt either thrilled or excited, only wonderment that it had happened to her, and a great wave of happiness. She went over the whole thing, every word he had uttered, her own words, too. It was while she was undressing that the thought struck her that he hadn’t said that he loved her. She worried around the thought for some time, to come to the conclusion that since he wanted to marry her he must naturally love her, too. She got into bed and lay imagining a blissful future until she slept.

  It was a dark, wet morning when she got up, but she didn’t care about that. Nothing could damp the happiness. She dressed, breakfasted and went out into the miserable morning. The hospital was already in the throes of early-morning busyness, with breakfast trolleys being wheeled through the wards, night staff going off duty and day staff picking up the reins of the ward routine, curtains round the beds of those for operation that morning, and Andy, already there, making up a bed for an emergency admission. She greeted Katherine with her usual good nature, declared that she was delighted to see her back so quickly, and wanted to know what had come over her. ‘You look as though you’d won the pools or got yourself a millionaire.’

  Katherine smiled widely, but before she could reply one of the senior student nurses came bustling along to tell them importantly to start making beds as soon as possible. ‘All right, love,’ said the irrepressible Andy, ‘keep your hair on! We’re women, not machines.’

  They began making beds, starting on the other side of the ward, where most of the patients were in a state to help themselves a little, well enough to read the papers and joke with their neighbours and the nurses. It was while they were making their third bed that the occupant, an elderly man who had lived in Salisbury all his life and professed to knowing everyone and everything there, remarked that there would be a grand wedding before long.

  ‘How come?’ asked Andy. ‘Anyone we know?’ He took the local paper off his locker and opened it and handed it to her. ‘Miss Dodie Grainger,’ he told them importantly, ‘well-known local upper-crust beauty, as you might say, got herself engaged to Sir Gerald Wilden—he’s got a big estate between here and Chippenham—pots of money, too. Done well for herself, she has. I bet she broke a few hearts, too.’

  Andy was reading the paper, and when she’d finished she offered it to Katherine, but the sight of Katherine’s pale face made her put the paper down. ‘I say, love, what’s up? Do you feel sick? You look awful. You’re not going to faint?’

  Katherine forced a voice from a throat gone suddenly dry... ‘No, I’m quite all right. It’s just that it’s warm in here, and it was so cold coming to work, and I didn’t have much time for breakfast.’ She managed a smile. ‘I feel better already.’ She smoothed the counterpane, a small, wan ghost of her usual self.

  They went steadily down the row of beds, and she listened to Andy’s cheerful chatter and answered it mechanically while her unhappy thoughts raced to and fro inside her head. At least she had told no one. Thank heaven for that! She had been a fool, blinded by love, willing to be bamboozled into declaring it, too. Jason had known that; she had been so easily convinced because she had wanted to be. It was as plain as the nose on her face now; Dodie had rejected him for another man, and he wanted to show her that he did not care, even though it must have been a cruel blow to him. What better than to find another girl to marry; show Dodie that he could be happy without her. Only, of course, he wouldn’t be happy.

  She went steadily about her work, only half aware of what she was doing. It was a mercy she was off duty earlier than usual, she would go to her room and get it sorted out for, of course, something would have to be done. She would have to see Jason and tell him that in no way would she consider marrying him. Only not today, she prayed silently. And had her prayers answered when she overheard Sister telling the house physician that it would be no good referring one of the patients to Dr Fitzroy’s clinic, because he had gone to Southampton for several days.

  The news brought Katherine a respite; at least there was no danger of her meeting him in the hospital, and by the time he returned she would be able to present a cool, level-headed front. Suddenly unwilling to be on her own in her room, she had a coffee at the hospital, and walked home through the main streets, stopping to look at the shop windows without really seeing anything in them.

  When she at length got to Mrs Potts’ house, she lingered in the kitchen, talking to that lady, to regret it before long when Mrs Potts remarked, ‘I see our Miss Dodie has got herself engaged. I always thought she’d set her cap at Dr Fitzroy. I’m sure it was expected, not that he ever did say anything, although she was always hinting.’

  Katherine mumbled, ‘Oh, really? Well, I must get my letters written...’

  ‘You look tired, love. There’s a nice steak and kidney pudding for supper. Mind you come down for it, it’ll put a bit of colour in your cheeks.’

  Katherine made tea and then sat by the gas fire, drinking it, but it didn’t warm the icy coldness lying like a lump in her chest. She would have to pull herself together. There was bound to be talk about the engagement at supper; after all, Dodie, although not known personally, was known to Mrs Potts through the titbits of gossip she had from Mrs Spooner. When Mrs Potts rang the bell for supper, she went downstairs, nicely in command of herself. It was most fortunate that Miss Fish had witnessed a small street accident that afternoon and insisted on recounting it in much detail, so that most of the meal was eaten to her recital; they were eating their pudding before Mrs Potts mentioned Dodie’s engagement, and Katherine
was able to utter suitable exclamations to the various opinions of the subject. She was even able to agree that Dodie was a remarkably pretty young woman and would be a beautiful bride.

  ‘All the same,’ observed Mrs Potts as they prepared to leave the table, ‘I quite thought she’d have Dr Fitzroy.’

  ‘Perhaps he didn’t ask her,’ said Miss Fish in her dry, elderly voice.

  ‘Why, he’s been taking her around for I don’t know how long,’ protested Mrs Potts, ‘and she so free and easy with him, so my sister told me.’

  Back in her room, Katherine got out the sweater she was knitting and went doggedly to work on its complicated pattern. Of course, since she wasn’t concentrating, the pattern became a nightmare; she was unpicking it when there was a knock on the door. It was probably Shirley, come to borrow tea or sugar, for she never seemed to have any of her own. Katherine called ‘come in,’ and looked up to see Jason standing in the doorway.

  ‘You’re in Southampton!’ she gasped, and then, ‘Oh, Jason, go away.’

  He stayed where he was, eyeing her narrowly. ‘I’ve only just got here,’ he pointed out reasonably. ‘What’s wrong, Katie?’

  Despite her best efforts, her voice was shrill. ‘Wrong? Everything is.’ Her feelings were rapidly getting the better of her. ‘Did you know that Dodie was going to get married?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So, to get even because she wouldn’t marry you, you wanted to show her that it didn’t matter, by marrying someone yourself—me, and what could be easier?’ She had stood up, and now she stamped her foot with rage. ‘I could die of shame telling you that I loved you...’

  He said quietly, ‘Will you sit down so that we can talk sensibly?’

  ‘No, I will not. I’m not in the mood to be sensible...’

  His face was as calm as it always was, but she sensed anger behind the calm. ‘No, I can see that. I’ll go, and when you have simmered down and rid yourself of all this nonsense you can come and tell me.’

  The anger showed now, although it was tightly controlled. He hadn’t moved an inch, but she took a step backwards, something which made him give a short laugh. ‘I came racing back from Southampton to be with you, and what do I find? A termagant with her head full of rubbishy fancies.’

  ‘I’m not a ter—termagant...’ She wasn’t exactly sure what that was, but it sounded unpleasant.

  He enlightened her: ‘A vixen, a virago, a battle-axe.’ He paused, smiling in a manner to chill her heart. ‘No, not a battle-axe, you haven’t the shape.’

  Katherine drew an indignant breath. ‘Go away! I never want to see you again.’ And then, because she loved him so much, ‘I’m sorry if Dodie has broken your heart, but you need not have broken mine, too.’

  He looked at her without expression. ‘You know where I am when you want me, Katie.’ He had gone, leaving her with her mouth open, ready to deny that she would ever need to speak to him again.

  She had a good cry after that, and then sat, her face blotched and her eyelids swollen, and reviewed his visit. Perhaps she should have allowed him to talk as he had wanted to, but she had been upset and very angry. She still was, but the light of reason was creeping in, and she had to admit that perhaps she had been over-hasty, and certainly undignified. She should have been sweetly reasonable, allowed him to make his excuses and then quietly pointed out that she had no wish to marry him. She supposed that only heroines in novels ever did this, but she wasn’t in a book, she was flesh and blood and hurt and humiliated, and very much in love, even though she no longer liked Jason. She amended this: she didn’t like him at the moment.

  She got up and made a pot of tea and got ready for bed. There was no point in reiterating her sad thoughts. She got into bed and closed her eyes, but stayed awake until it was almost time to get up.

  She was getting ready to go out and shop when Mrs Potts called up the stairs to say that there was a telephone call for her. Her heart leapt; Jason wanted to see her again, despite his unkind remarks about her going to see him. She raced down to the hall and lifted the receiver.

  It was Mrs Grainger. ‘We’re back for a time, dear,’ explained the old lady. ‘We’ve been very happy with Tom, but we wanted to come home and see all our friends again. Dodie has found us a very pleasant companion. We would like to see you—could you come to tea one day soon? Tomorrow, perhaps?’

  Katherine had no reason not to go, so she agreed to call in on her way home the following afternoon and said goodbye. It was only after she had rung off that she wondered how Mrs Grainger had known where she was. She dismissed the thought, and went back upstairs to get her small shopping list and her purse.

  She didn’t see Jason that day, but she hadn’t expected to, for he had returned to Southampton; she overheard Sister telling the house surgeon that he wouldn’t be back until the end of the week. Longing to see him, but determined not to, Katherine went about her work and, when she got back to Mrs Potts’ that evening, had her supper and went straight to bed with the plea of a headache.

  She had her lunch at the hospital the next day, after she had been on duty for a half-day, so it was well after two o’clock by the time she reached the Grangers’ house. Mrs Dowling opened the door to her.

  ‘Well, now, it’s a treat to see you again,’ she declared, relaxing her stern features into a smile. ‘You’ve filled out nicely, too, though you’re a bit pale. Hard work, I’ve no doubt! Come on in, they’re waiting for you. I’ll be bringing in the tea a bit early. That new companion’s got the afternoon off...’ And, at Katherine’s enquiring look, ‘She’s all right, but she doesn’t give a hand like you used to.’

  Katherine was led through the familiar hall and ushered into the drawing-room, where Mr and Mrs Grainger were sitting in their usual places on each side of the fire.

  They greeted her warmly, and Mrs Grainger launched at once into a rather muddled account of their stay with Tom Fetter. It had been very pleasant, she conceded, but it seemed that his household was a very expensive one to maintain. ‘For, of course, Mr Grainger considered it necessary to share any expenses while we were there. But, really, it seemed prudent to return here, for we live very simply ourselves at very much less cost.’

  Katherine murmured sympathetically; the Grain-gers were obviously not lacking in the world’s goods, and Mrs Grainger’s ideas of living simply were hardly hers; Tom had very likely been getting money from them on one pretext or another, and old Mr Grainger was no fool.

  Mrs Grainger, having exhausted Tom Fetter and his house as a topic of conversation, started off again.

  ‘You will have heard about our dear Dodie; the dear girl...done very well for herself, too. She will have a splendid wedding, of course. We always thought that she would marry Dr Fitzroy, but strangely enough he never fell in love with her, although all the other young men did.’

  Mrs Grainger turned her gentle face towards Katherine. ‘He was always so kind, too, taking her here and there, putting up with her little tantrums, but he treated her like a young sister.’ She laughed a little. ‘It annoyed Dodie, of course, she liked to think that she could twist any man she knew round her little finger. He’s away, you know, but we hope to see him when he gets back. I dare say you see something of him at the hospital?’

  Katherine said in a careful, matter-of-fact voice, ‘Well, no, very seldom. He is a consultant physician and I’m just a nursing aide on the surgical ward. How did you know where I was, Mrs Grainger?’

  It was Mr Grainger who answered her. ‘Mrs Dowling told us, and it wasn’t all that hard to get hold of you, my dear. You’re happy at the hospital?’

  ‘Very happy, and I have a most comfortable room...’

  She cast about for something to talk about, and was about to fall back on the weather when Mrs Dowling came in with the tea things, and the little flurry of pouring out, passing cups and offering cakes, made it unnecessary to do more than talk trivialities. Which was a good thing, for she was mulling over what Mrs Grainger had sai
d about Jason and Dodie. If it were true, and there was no reason to believe that Mrs Grainger would tell fibs, then she would have to seek out Jason and apologise. The idea appalled her, and she was thankful that for the next few days he would be away; by the time he returned, she would have decided on what to say, and, what was more important, where. Somewhere she could escape from quickly. She had days off at the end of the week, and the best thing to do would be to go to his house as she came off duty the evening before and then go away for her days off. She had been saving her wages for a jersey suit, and there was enough money to pay for bed and breakfast in some small hotel. Even if he wanted to see her, and she very much doubted that, he would give up after two days, and at the end of that time, she thought hopefully, she would be able to face him if she had to.

  She collected her wandering thoughts and made a vague reply to Mr Grainger’s enquiries as to her work. Presently, with the promise that she would come again, she took herself off.

  She spent a wretched night, reminding herself of all the things she had said to Jason. She had told him to go away and, what was more, he had done just that, without a backward glance. She burst into tears at the thought. Well, he would see now how little it mattered to her; she would leave the hospital and go miles away and be very successful at something or other—she had no idea what at the moment. She sat up in bed, sniffing and snivelling at the very idea, trying to bring some sense to her unhappy thoughts.

  The week went by. If Jason was back, she saw nothing of him and, by the time she was ready to go off duty before her days off, she had convinced herself that he hadn’t yet returned. So much the better, she told herself, the longer the time before they must inevitably meet, the better.