by Betty Neels
There was no need. ‘Go on up,’ said the young woman wearily, ‘the door’s open. Any more of you, are there? I don’t aim to be opening the door all night.’
Daisy murmured apologetically and went up the stairs and opened Maisie’s door. The doctor was there, sitting in one of the chairs, doing nothing.
‘Oh,’ said Daisy, aware of a rush of feeling at the sight of him. ‘I didn’t know—that is, Maisie asked me to get her handbag, only when I got here I remembered that I hadn’t a key…’
He had got to his feet and took the key out of his pocket. ‘I went to see her this afternoon and she told me and since I have the key I thought I’d better come along with it. By the way, Mrs Trump tells me that one of her friends is a widow living in Churchfields Road. She wants to let part of her house; I thought we might go along and see her. Tomorrow evening?’
‘Me?’
He was lounging against the back of a shabby armchair, watching her. ‘I feel certain that you know better than I what kind of a place Maisie would like.’
‘Does she know? I mean, will she mind?’
‘I suggested that it might be nice for her to move from this place, somewhere where there was a garden for Milly and Whiskers. She’ll be in hospital for ten days; if we could get her settled before then she could go there and have some sick leave.’ She was surprised when he said unexpectedly, ‘How are you managing, Daisy?’
‘Me? Oh, fine, thank you; the nurses are being marvellous and I believe there’s someone coming to help part-time until Maisie’s back.’ He nodded and she went on, ‘Don’t let me keep you; if you’d let me have the key…’
‘Anxious to be rid of me?’ he said, but he said it kindly and smiled so that she found herself smiling back. ‘Pack up whatever she needs and I’ll take them back with me.’
She had found a large plastic bag and was collecting things from the chest of drawers; she put in all the things she thought Maisie might want and laid the handbag on top. ‘But you haven’t got the car here.’
‘Ten minutes’ walk.’ He took the bag from her and opened the door. Locking it behind him, he said, ‘I’ll be outside tomorrow evening. We’ll go in the car for I have an engagement later on. Leave your bike at the hospital—you can come in by bus in the morning?’
‘Yes.’ She had followed him down the stairs and the young woman poked her head out of a door and demanded to know how many more times they intended coming. ‘The rent’s paid until the end of the week—I shall let the room unless I get it by Saturday.’
‘The furniture is Miss Watts’s?’
‘Yes, but not the carpet or the lights. Moving out, is she? I shan’t be sorry—her and her animals. Don’t know why I’ve put up with them all this time.’
‘Someone will come here tomorrow to remove the furniture. Perhaps you would be good enough to be present when that is done. Good evening to you.’
He propelled Daisy out on to the pavement and the door banged shut behind them. ‘You’re never to come here alone, Daisy,’ said the doctor firmly. ‘I’ll attend to whatever has to be done. Now get on your bike and go home.’
He waited while she unlocked the bicycle. ‘Goodnight, Daisy.’ His kiss was unexpected so that she almost fell off her bike. She muttered something and pedalled away from him at a furious rate. She heard him laugh as she went.
CHAPTER NINE
DAISY worried about that laugh all the way home. What had there been to laugh about? Did she look comical on a bike? Had she said something silly? With an effort she dismissed it from her mind. His kiss was harder to dismiss but then by the time she had reached her home she had convinced herself that it had been a casual gesture of kindness, rather like patting a dog or stroking a cat. She wheeled her bike into the shed and went in through the kitchen door.
Pamela was at the kitchen table, doing her homework, and her mother came from the sitting-room as she took off her jacket.
‘Darling—you’re so late again, I was getting worried.’
‘I’ll be late for the next few days, until we get some help instead of Maisie, Mother. I had to go to Maisie’s room and get something for her.’
‘You never went all the way back to the hospital?’
‘No, Dr Seymour was there; he took it back for me.’
She saw the pleased speculation on her mother’s face and sighed soundlessly; her parent was indulging in daydreams again. Such hopeless ones too.
‘What a kind man he is and you see quite a lot of him, don’t you, love?’
‘No,’ said Daisy matter-of-factly, ‘only if it’s something to do with Maisie. He’s asked me to go and look at a room to rent for her—she can’t possibly go back to that awful place. I thought I’d go tomorrow after work.’
She wasn’t going to mention Dr Seymour again; it would only add fuel to the daydreams.
Pamela was watching her thoughtfully. ‘Lady Thorley phoned. She’s asked you to go to tea on Saturday. I said you’d give her a ring.’
‘Then I’d better phone her now…’
‘Your supper’s in the oven; I’ll have it ready when you’ve done that.’ Her mother peered anxiously at the cottage pie. ‘We’ve had ours.’
‘It’s Miss Thompson’s birthday—we thought we would give her a tea party. I’ll come for you about three o’clock,’ said Lady Thorley when Daisy duly phoned her. She had taken it for granted that Daisy would go and she agreed readily. It would be nice to see the twins again, and the proposed shopping trip to Salisbury with her mother and Pamela could wait.
She left the ward half an hour later than usual the next day—there was still no help and she had tried her best to do the work of two. Besides, she had gone to see Maisie in her dinner-hour, which had meant gobbling down Monday’s mince and carrots and missing the pudding. She was in no mood to go anywhere but she had promised the doctor, and she wasn’t a girl to break a promise lightly.
He was standing by the entrance, talking to the senior consultant physician, but they broke off their conversation to watch her cross the hall. Both gentlemen greeted her politely and the other man wandered away, leaving Dr Seymour to urge her through the door and into the car.
‘Busy day?’ he wanted to know.
‘Yes,’ said Daisy baldly.
‘You’ve seen Maisie?’
‘Yes. She’s better, isn’t she?’
‘Yes. You went in your dinner-hour?’
‘Yes.’ Daisy felt that her conversation hardly sparkled but she was too tired to bother.
‘You’re bound to be hungry.’ He picked up the car phone. ‘Mrs Pelham, I’m just taking Daisy to look at rooms for Maisie—I dare say you know about that?’ He was silent for a moment and Daisy wriggled with embarrassment; her mother would be explaining that her dear daughter, while mentioning that she would be late, hadn’t said that he would be with her.
Dr Seymour’s voice took on the soothing tones so effective with his small patients. ‘I’ll bring her back in the car, Mrs Pelham, you’ve no need to worry.’
He put the phone down and started the car without speaking and Daisy looked out of the window and wished that she were anywhere but there.
The drive was a short one; the quiet street he stopped in was lined with neat terraced houses with front gardens and well-kept front doors. He got out of the car and opened her door, remarking easily, ‘This looks more like Maisie, doesn’t it? We shall see…’
The door was opened the moment he knocked and the plump middle-aged woman said at once, ‘Dr Seymour? Mrs Trump told me. Come on in.’
She looked enquiringly at Daisy, and the doctor said, ‘This is Miss Pelham, who works with Miss Watts—I thought that perhaps she might know better than I…?’
He smiled gently and Mrs King smiled back. ‘Of course.�
�
She nodded at Daisy in a friendly fashion and led the way into her house. The room they were shown into was exactly right, thought Daisy, and a door at its end led into a small conservatory which opened out on to quite a long garden, well-fenced. There was a gas fire and a very small gas cooker and a washbasin in one corner.
‘Before my husband died he was ill for quite a long time, so we had this room specially done for him—there’s a shower-room at the end of the hall. I never use it so it could go with the room. She’s got her own furniture?’
The doctor had gone to look at the conservatory; obviously he expected Daisy to arrange things. ‘Yes, she has. She has a dog and a cat too, both used to living indoors. You wouldn’t mind?’
‘As long as they don’t bother me. A good dog would be quite nice to have—I’m a bit nervous, especially at night.’
‘It’s a very nice room,’ said Daisy. ‘I’m not sure if Maisie could afford it…’
‘At the hospital, isn’t she? Mrs Trump told me what she earned. Would she consider…?’ She paused and then mentioned a sum a good deal less than Daisy had expected.
‘I should think she could manage that. Could I let you know tomorrow? I shan’t see her until then.’
The doctor didn’t turn his head. ‘Never mind that, Daisy. Would a month’s rent in advance be acceptable?’
Driving back to Wilton presently, Daisy asked, ‘Wasn’t that a bit high-handed, Dr Seymour? How do you know that Maisie will like the room?’
He said placidly, ‘If you were Maisie, would you like the place?’
‘Oh, yes…’
‘There’s your answer.’
He stopped the car outside her home and got out to open her door.
‘Thank you for bringing me home,’ she told him and opened the gate.
‘Your mother asked me if I would like a cup of coffee,’ he said at his most placid, giving the knocker a brisk tattoo.
Pamela opened the door. ‘Come on in,’ she invited; she stood aside to allow him to pass her. ‘The coffee’s ready and Mother’s bursting with curiosity.’
Her mother had got out the best china and there was a plate of mince pies on the table. The doctor took off his jacket and sat down, very much at his ease, answering Mrs Pelham’s questions with every appearance of pleasure. Anyone looking at them sitting around the table, thought Daisy, would have considered him to be an old friend of the family.
Presently he got up to go and somehow it was Daisy who saw him to the door. ‘I’ll see Maisie in the morning but I’d be glad if you’d visit her if you can spare the time, convince her that she’ll have a comfortable home and that it’ll be much better for Milly and Whiskers. Once she has agreed I’ll arrange to have her furniture moved in.’
‘Very well,’ said Daisy sedately, anxious to appear detached but willing. It was disconcerting when he patted her on the shoulder in an avuncular manner and observed that she was a good girl before bidding her a brisk goodnight and getting into his car and driving away.
‘Such a delightful man,’ declared her mother, collecting the coffee-cups. ‘Supper’s all ready. Do you suppose he enjoyed the mince pies?’
‘Well, he ate almost all of them, so he must have done,’ said Pamela. ‘It’s hard to think of him as a well-known man in his own particular field of medicine.’
Daisy turned to stare. ‘Whatever makes you say that?’ she asked.
‘Well, he is, you know. I looked him up in the medical Who’s Who. He’s got a string of letters after his name and there’s a whole lot about him.’ She peeped at Daisy. ‘Aren’t you interested?’
‘Not really,’ said Daisy mendaciously.
Maisie was sitting up in bed looking better when Daisy went to see her during her lunchtime the next day, and there was no need to persuade her to do anything; the doctor had been to see her and everything was what she termed hunky-dory.
‘Bless the pair of you,’ declared Maisie, ‘going to all that trouble; me and Milly and Whiskers are that grateful. Me own shower too and a bit of garden. I’m ter go ’ome in a week and just take things easy, like. ’Ow are yer getting on, ducks?’
‘Just fine, Maisie. We’ve been promised part-time help for a day or two and the ward isn’t busy.’
‘Yer looking peaky. Working too ’ard, I’ll be bound. P’raps you’ll get a bit of an ’oliday when I get back.’
Daisy went back to the ward and started on the endless chores, glad of something to occupy her thoughts. At the end of the day when she went to tell Sister that she was ready to go, that young lady greeted her with the news that she and Philip were engaged. ‘I’m going to tell everyone tomorrow morning, but I wanted you to know first, Daisy. Philip and I hope you’ll come to our wedding.’
Daisy offered suitable congratulations, admired the diamond ring, hanging on a gold chain round Sister’s neck under her uniform, and went off home. She was glad about Philip and Sister Carter; they would make a splendid pair. She must remember to write and congratulate him. It was to be hoped that someone as nice as Sister Carter would take over the ward; surely Dr Seymour would have a say in the matter?
She hadn’t seen him that day and she guessed that he was back in London; indeed as she was leaving the hospital at the end of the day the hall porter handed her a letter addressed in an almost unreadable scrawl. It was from the doctor and very brief and to the point. Would she be so good as to go to Maisie’s new home and make sure that everything was suitably arranged? It took a few minutes to decipher and it ended as abruptly as it had begun, with his initials.
‘Written with the wrong end of a feather and with his eyes shut,’ said Daisy to the empty hallway. All the same she tucked the missive safely away until she could put it under her pillow when she went to bed that night.
She could find no fault when she went to Maisie’s new home that evening. It had been furnished with care, Maisie’s bits and pieces polished, the bed made up. There was nothing for her to do but compliment her new landlady on the care which she had lavished upon her new lodger’s room.
‘Me and Mrs Trump,’ she was told. ‘Dr Seymour said as we were to make it as home-like as possible.’ She beamed at Daisy. ‘He’s a real gentleman.’
Daisy had to work on Sunday for there was no one to relieve her but she was free on Saturday and she cycled to Lady Thorley’s house in the afternoon. She had taken pains with her face and her hair, telling herself that since it was a birthday tea party it behoved her to make the best of her appearance. It was a pity that Lady Thorley had phoned in the morning to say that the car was being serviced and could she find her own way, but it was dry even if it was cold and she could wear her good shoes… And if at the back of her mind she was hoping that the doctor would be there she wasn’t going to admit it.
He wasn’t there. She was greeted rapturously by the twins, more soberly by Lady Thorley and their governess and informed that Sir Hugh wouldn’t be home until evening. ‘And Valentine, of course, is still in London—probably catching up on his social life.’
Despite her disappointment, Daisy enjoyed her afternoon; tea was a splendid meal and the birthday cake was magnificent and she had been led away to look at the presents, the best of which, Miss Thompson assured her, were a bead necklace threaded by Katie and a cardboard box containing Josh’s model of Belle in Plasticine. These needed to be admired at some length before Miss Thompson, asked what she would like to do since it was her birthday, diplomatically opted for a rousing game of snakes and ladders.
Daisy, promising to return in the not too distant future, went home a few hours later.
Salisbury was quiet when she went to work the next morning—a few people either going or coming from church, an infrequent car and several workers like herself. Even the hospital seemed quiet as she went up to the ward after changing into
her pink pinny in the cloakroom used by the orderlies.
It wasn’t quiet in the ward, of course. Most of the children were convalescing and making a fine racket, and since Sister had a weekend off and Staff Nurse was in charge they were noisier than usual; Staff Nurse was a splendid nurse but she lacked Sister’s authority.
Daisy plunged into her day’s routine, buoyed up by the news that there would be help in the morning. During her lunch break she went along to see Maisie and found her sitting by her bed, looking almost her old self.
‘Can’t wait ter get out of ’ere,’ she confided to Daisy. ‘The nurses are all right but that Sister—she’s an old dragon. I wouldn’t work ’ere for a fortune.’
‘Well, you won’t have to,’ said Daisy. ‘Sister can’t wait to get you back.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I must go—we all miss you, Maisie, really we do.’
Maisie looked pleased. ‘Go on with you. Mrs Trump came ter see me yesterday—nice of ’er, weren’t it? Thought I might like ter know about Milly and Whiskers. Very ’appy, she says.’ She added wistfully, ‘I’ll be glad ter see them…’
‘They’ll be glad to see you too, Maisie, and it won’t be long now. You’re all going to be so happy…’
The children were unruly that afternoon; mothers and fathers had come and they had become over-excited. They were allowed to visit any day they liked, of course, but the fathers were mostly at work and most of the mothers had other children or jobs, so Sunday afternoons saw an influx of mothers and fathers who stayed for the children’s tea, so that they wouldn’t eat, because they were excited or, worse, ate too much of the various biscuits and sweets which should have been handed over and very often weren’t.
The last reluctant parent was ushered out finally and the nurses set about getting the children washed and ready for supper and bedtime, Daisy trotting to and fro with clean sheets, collecting up used bedlinen and bagging it, carrying mugs and plates out to the kitchen where an impatient maid, doing double duty since it was a Sunday, waited to wash up.