The Moon for Lavinia

by Betty Neels

  Lavinia made a mental note to buy a swimsuit first thing in the morning. `I've a whole lot of museums to see,' she told him brightly.

  `Yes? May I pick you up tomorrow evening? Seven o'clock?'

  She watched his large capable hands on the wheel and felt her heart tumbling around inside her. 'I'd like that very much,' she said in a sedate voice.

  At the hospital entrance he got out to open her door and walk with her across the forecourt to the farther side where a covered way led to the nurses' home. His good night was pleasant and formal.

  Lavinia went to bed, her head filled with a muddle of thoughts; the pleasant and the not so pleasant jostling each other for a place until she fell into an uneasy sleep.

  She was pottering along the corridor to make herself some tea the next morning when she met Neeltje and several other nurses going down to breakfast. They were almost late, but that didn't prevent them from stopping to greet her and then break into a babble of questions. It was Neeltje who said in her own peculiar brand of English: `We hear all-Becke Groeneveld sees you with Professor ter Bavinck as you return-that is for the second time that you go out with him. We are all most curious and excited.'

  The ring of cheerful faces around her wore pleased smiles, rather as though their owners had engineered her outing amongst themselves. She was touched by their interest and their complete lack of envy; the least she could do was to tell them about her daywell, at least parts of it. `Well, you see,' she began, `I got caught in the rain and the professor happened to be passing in his car, so he took me to his house and his housekeeper dried my dress.'

  Her listeners regarded her with motherly expressions. `Well?' they chorused.

  `We went to the Rijksmuseum after lunchoh, and I met his daughter, she's a sweet girl.' The memory of the professor's conversation with Sibendina was suddenly vivid in her mind and she went rather pink. `I-we, that is, went to dinner in the Hague.'

  `You and the Prof?'

  She nodded.

  `And you go again?' asked Neeltje.

  `Well, as a matter of fact, yes.'

  `We are glad,' declared Neeltje, `we have pleasure in this, you understand. But now we must hurry or we do not eat.'

  They cried their tot ziens and tumbled down the stairs, laughing and talking, and Lavinia made her tea and got dressed slowly, trying not to think about the professor. But it wasn't easy, and later in the morning, even in the most interesting museums, his face kept getting between her and the exhibits she examined so carefully. She had her coffee and then, satisfied with her morning's sightseeing, went to the Bijenkorf and had a snack lunch, then went to look in the shop windows again, making a mental and ever-lengthening list of things she would buy when she had some money. And always at the back of her mind was the professor. By five o'clock she decided that she might well return to the hospital and get ready for her evening, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that she stopped herself from tearing back as though she had a train to catch. She told herself to stop behaving like a fool and forced her feet to a slow pace, so that she was in a fine state of nervous tension by the time she reached the hospital. She went at once to the home and looked at the letter board; there might be a letter from Peta. There was. There was another one, too, in a scrawled handwriting which she knew at once was the professor's. She tore it open and read the one line written on the back of a Path. Lab. form. It stated simply: `Sorry, can't make it this evening,' and was signed M. ter B. She folded it carefully and put it back in its envelope, then took it out again and re-read it with the air ol' someone who hoped for a miracle, but there it was, in black and white.

  She went slowly to her room, put the note in her handbag and kicked off her sandals. Her disappointment was engulfing her in great waves, but she refused to give way to it; she sat down and opened Peta's letter and started to read it. It was lengthy and unhappy too; Aunt Gwyneth, it seemed, was taking every opportunity to remind Peta that she depended entirely upon her charity and had made veiled hints as to what might happen should Peta fail to get her 0 levels. Ungrateful girls who didn't work hard enough for exams could not be expected to live in the lap of luxury for ever; there were jobs for them, simple jobs which required no advanced education costing a great deal of money, her aunt had said-a great girl of sixteen would do very well as a companion to some elderly lady...

  Lavinia, noting the carefully wiped away tear stains, longed for just half an hour with her sister, but although that wasn't possible, a letter was. She sat down and wrote it, then and there, filling it full of heartening ideas, painting a cheerful picture of the life they would lead together, and that not so far off now. She went out to post it and then went to supper, where she parried her new friends' anxious questions as cheerfully as she could. It was when Neeltje joined them that she discovered where the professor had gone: Utrecht, to some urgent consultation or other. The news cheered her a little. It wasn't until that moment that she admitted to herself that she had been imagining him spending the evening with some fascinating and exquisitely dressed beauty.

  Theatre was busy the following day and Lavinia scrubbed for the afternoon list. They were half way through a splenectomy when the professor came in; he was in theatre kit, and after a nod in the general direction of those scattered around, took his place by the surgeon who was operating. He stayed for five minutes or so, peering down at the work being done while he and his colleague muttered together. Finally, he took the offending organ away with him. Lavinia had the impression that he hadn't seen her.

  She felt even more certain of this by the time she went off duty at five o'clock, for she had seen him with her own eyes, leaving the forecourt; she had glanced idly out of an upstairs window and then stayed to watch him drive the Bentley out of the gates-out of sight.

  Some of the nurses had asked her to go to the cinema with them, but she had pleaded letters to write, aware that if the professor should ask her to go out with him the letters would get short shrift, but now it looked as though that was the way she was going to spend her evening. She showered and changed into slacks and a cotton blouse and made herself some coffee, having no wish for her supper, and then started on her writing; it wasn't very successful, probably because her mind wasn't on it; she gave up after the second letter and went down to the post, thinking, as she went through the hospital, that she would ask to see the Directrice in the morning about living out; perhaps if her future plans were settled she might feel more settled herself. She was turning away from the post box in the front hall when she came face to face with the professor. Her first reaction was sheer delight at seeing him, the second one of annoyance because she must surely look a fright, consequently her `Good evening, Professor,' was distant, but he ignored that.

  `I was on my way over to see you,' he said cheerfully. `I thought we might spend the evening together.'

  A medley of strong feelings left her speechless. Presently she managed: `I hadn't planned to go out this evening.'

  His answer infuriated her. `Well, I didn't expect you would have just in case I came...' He gave her an interested look. `Are you sulking?'

  `I have no reason to sulk.'

  `Oh? I thought you might because I had to cancel our date yesterday.' He grinned. `I did think of mentioning it in theatre this afternoon, but I didn't think you would like that.'

  She drew a deep breath. `Professor...' she began, and was cut short by his bland: `My dear girl, how is our relationship going to progress if you insist on calling me professor at every other breath? My name's Radmer.'

  `Oh, is it? I've never heard it before.'

  `Naturally not; it's a Friesian name, and you're English.' He smiled with great charm. `Shall we go?"

  'Like this? I'm not dressed for going out.'

  He studied her deliberately. `You're decently covered,' he observed at length. `I like your hair hanging down your back. If it will make you happier, we're only going home for dinner just two friends sharing a meal,' he added matter- of-factly.

/>   `Well, all right.' She gave in with a composure which quite concealed her indignation. No girl, however inadequately dressed, likes to be told that she's decently covered-not in that casual, don't care voice. She got into the Bentley with an hauteur which brought a little smile to her companion's mouth, although he said nothing. But he did set himself out to entertain her over dinner, and his apologies for breaking their date the previous evening were all that any girl could wish for; her good nature reasserted itself and she felt happier than she had felt all day. His undemanding small talk, allied to the smoked salmon, duckling with orange sauce, and fresh fruit salad with its accompanying whipped cream and served on exquisite china, all combined to act on her stretched nerves like balm. She found herself telling him about Peta's letter and what she intended doing about it.

  He listened gravely, watching her across the table. When she had finished he observed: `I see-well, Lavinia, I said that you should have time, did I not, but now I think that we must settle the matter here and now.' He smiled at her with faint mockery. `Any maidenly ideas you may have been cherishing about being courted, wooed and won must go by the board.'

  She sat up very straight in her chair. `You're not serious?"

  'Indeed I am. If you have finished, shall we go to the sitting-room for coffee? Sibby is out with friends and we shall be undisturbed.'

  Coffee seemed a good idea, if only to clear her head and dispel the somewhat reckless mood the excellent wine they had had engendered.

  She poured it from a charming little silver coffee pot into delicate Sevres china and wished that her companion wouldn't stare quite so hard at her; she concluded that it was because he was waiting for her to say something, so she asked composedly: `Would you mind explaining?'

  `It's very simple, Lavinia. I have no wife, and a daughter who badly needs female company-to designate you as stepmother would be absurd, but a kind of elder sister? And there is Peta, just a little older than Sibby and an ideal companion for her...'

  `They might hate each other.'

  He shook his head. `No, Sibby is likely to take to her on sight; remember that she already likes you very much. And then there is me; I need someone to entertain for me, buy Sibby's clothes, run my home, and I hope, be my companion.' He was silent for a moment. `I am sometimes lonely, Lavinia.'

  He got up and came and stood in front of her and pulled her to her feet, and put his hands on her shoulders. `There is no question of falling in love, my dear. I think I may never do that again-once bitten, twice shy-as you say in English. Ours would be a marriage of friends, you understand, no more than that. But I promise you that I will take care of you and Peta, just as I shall take care of Sibby.'

  Lavinia swallowed. `Why me?' she asked in a small voice.

  He smiled a little. `You're sensible, your feet are firmly planted on the ground and you haven't been too happy, have you? You will never be tempted to reach for the moon, my dear.'

  She was speechless once more. So that was what he thought of her-a rather dreary spinster type with no ambition to set the world on fire. How wrong he was, and yet in a way, how right. If she chose to refuse his strange offer, the future didn't hold very much for her, she knew that. Several more years of getting Peta on to her own feet and then, when her

  sister married, as she most certainly would, she herself would be left to a bachelor girl's existence. But to marry this man who was so certain that his idea was a good one? She was old-fashioned enough-and perhaps sentimental enough too-to believe in falling in love and marrying for that reason.

  `Would it be honest-I mean, marrying you? I've very little to offer. Sibendina might grow to dislike me, you know, and I'm not much good at entertaining or running a large house.'

  `If I tell you that I'm quite sure that it will be a success, will you consider it?'

  It was a crazy conversation; she said so and he laughed in genuine amusement. `Will you think about it, Lavinia?"

  'Well-yes.' Even as she said it, she marvelled at herself; her usually sensible head was filled with a mass of nonsense which, once she was alone, she would have to reduce to proper proportions. Indeed, it had suddenly become an urgent matter to get away from this large man who so disquieted her, and think coolly about everything, without his eyes watching her face as though he could read every thought. She said abruptly: `Would you mind very much if I went back now? I have to think.'

  He made no attempt to dissuade her; in no time at all she found herself running up the Home stairs, his brief, friendly good night echoing in her ears.

  Being alone didn't help at all, she found herself wishing that he was there so that she might ask his advice, which, on the face of it, was just too absurd. Not only that, her thoughts didn't make sense. Probably she was too tired to think clearly, she would go to bed and sleep, and in the morning she would be able to come to a rational decision.

  Amazingly, she slept almost as soon as her head touched the pillow, to waken in time to hear the carillons from Amsterdam's many churches ringing out three o'clock. She buried her head in the pillow, willing herself to go to sleep again. There was a busy day ahead of her in theatre, and in another three hours or

  so she would have to get up. But her mind, nicely refreshed, refused to do her bidding. `Radmer,' she said aloud to the dark room. `It's a strange name, but it suits him.' She turned over in bed and thumped her pillows; somehow it helped to talk to herself about him. `I wish I knew more about his wife. Perhaps he loved her very much, even if no one else seems to have liked her.'

  What was it he had said? Once bitten, twice shy. Anyway, he had made it very plain that he wasn't marrying her because he loved her, only because he liked her.

  Lavinia gave up the idea of sleep, and sat up in bed, hugging her knees. She didn't know him at all, really, and it was preposterous that after such a short acquaintance, he should wish to marry her. Primarily for his own convenience, of course, he had made no bones about that; someone to look after Sibby and order his household and entertain for him, he had said; just as though she had no feelings in the matter. She was suddenly indignant and just as suddenly sleepy. When she woke, the sun was up and she could hear the maid coming along the passage, knocking on the doors.

  By the time she had dressed she had made up her mind not to marry him, although this decision depressed her dreadfully, and that very day she would see the Directrice and arrange about living out; that would make an end of the matter. She sat silently through breakfast so that Neeltje wanted to know if she felt ill. She made some remark about seeing too many museums all at once and everyone laughed as they dispersed to their various wards, and Neeltje, who had taken her remark seriously, took her arm, and began to warn her of the dangers of too much sightseeing all at once. They were close to the theatre unit doors when they were flung wide with a good deal of force and Professor ter Bavinck came through them. He was in theatre kit again, his mask dangling under his unshaven chin. He looked tired, cross and even with these drawbacks, very handsome.

  Lavinia, watching him coming towards them, was aware of a peculiar sensation, rather as though she had been filled with bubbles and wasn't on firm ground any more, and at the same time she knew exactly what she was going to do. She gently disengaged her arm from Neeltje and walked briskly forward to meet the professor. She wasted no time over good mornings or hullos; she planted her small person before his large one so that he was forced to stop, staring at her with tired eyes. She said, not caring if Neeltje heard or not: `I was very silly last night. Of course I'll marry you.'

  She didn't wait for his reply but slid through the theatre doors with a bewildered Neeltje hard on her heels. `Whatever did you say?' asked her friend. `I didn't hear.'

  `I said I would,' Lavinia told her, hardly aware of what she was saying, her mind completely taken up with the sudden wonder of finding herself in love. She would have liked to have gone somewhere quiet to think about it, instead she found herself laying up for the first case. It wasn't until she was having her coffee
, the first case dealt with, the second laid up for and Sister scrubbing, that she had a few minutes in which to think. The delightful, excited elation was still there, although it was marred just a little by the realization that the professor neither expected nor wished her to love him-it really was enough to put any girl off, she thought with a touch of peevishness, but now that she had discovered that she loved him, to marry him would be perfectly all right, or so it seemed to her.

  Her feverish thoughts were interrupted by the two nurses having coffee with her. `There was a patient in the night,' one of them told her, `a girl with stab wounds, and a laparotomy must be done, you understand. The surgeon is not happy when he looks insidethere is a question of CA-so he calls for Professor ter Bavinck at three o'clock in the morning and they are here for a long time and he finds that it is CA. Is it not sad?"

  'Very,' agreed Lavinia. So that was why he had looked so tired... The other nurse spoke. `And it is not nice for the Prof, for he goes to Brussels this morning-I heard Zuster Smid say so.'

  `Oh,' said Lavinia; disappointment was like a physical pain. She added nonchalantly: `How long for?'