by Betty Neels
‘Off for the evening?’ he enquired genially. ‘Going to see young Fielding? Splendid.’ He smiled at her and the smile was so kind that she wanted to throw herself on to his waistcoat and have a good cry. ‘Now, now,’ he said in his quiet voice, ‘it won’t be as bad as you think. You shall tell me all about it later on.’
She looked at him in astonishment. ‘How did you know?’
‘I do have access to the staff rota,’ he pointed out. He patted her on the shoulder. ‘Run along now, and get it over.’
He might have been talking to a little girl instead of a splendidly built young woman of eight and twenty.
Strangely enough she felt better; he had never criticised either Oscar or herself and his comments and advice had been impersonal and yet she felt comforted. She made a pot of tea, gave Meredith his supper and wasted a good deal of time deciding what to wear. Somehow it seemed important that she should be suitably dressed. She decided on a checked wool skirt, a shirt and a scarlet sweater to brighten up the black and white of the skirt and since it was a downcast evening she topped these with a black corduroy jacket. She would have liked to have worn something pretty and summery but the weather had turned, with all the suddenness of an English spring, into the chill of a damp February. At any rate, she decided, peering into the tiny looking-glass, the outfit was cheerful.
Oscar was waiting for her by the hospital gates. He took her arm and walked her across to the pub, explaining that he could spare only half an hour as he sat her down at a table in the saloon bar. ‘What is it to be?’ he asked.
‘Tonic, please.’ She smiled at him, studying his face. Such a nice face, she thought. She was going to miss him even though they were bound to meet a good deal in the future, as much outside the hospital as inside. He looked worried and she supposed that he was.
‘If you’ve only got half an hour there’s something I want to say quickly so please don’t interrupt,’ she begged him. ‘I know about you and Melanie… No, Oscar, I asked you not to interrupt. I’ve been home and talked about it with her and it’s quite all right. I think that you loved me, but not enough, and you do love her, don’t you?’
She sipped her tonic and wished that she had asked for something stronger.
She slid the ring off her finger and pushed it across the little table. ‘I shall like having you for a brother-in-law and you don’t have to feel guilty. It could have happened to anyone.’
‘You, Megan, don’t you mind—didn’t you love me at all? I wanted to tell you but I didn’t want to upset you. I thought that perhaps…I thought you would be broken-hearted.’
Megan felt a surge of impatience. ‘Of course I mind and of course I loved you but not enough, I think, and as for being broken-hearted…my heart is cracked just a little.’
‘Oh, Meg, I’m so very sorry. I should have told you straight away. The moment I set eyes on Melanie I knew. She’s so beautiful and sweet. We plan to get married soon—I’ll get a practice in the country. I’ll have to buy a partnership…’
He really loved Melanie, thought Megan. He had given up his planned future without a sigh, he was going to do just what she herself had wanted him to do but for Melanie he was doing it gladly, without a backwards glance at a consultant’s post. Suddenly she couldn’t stand any more. She left her tonic almost untouched and got to her feet. Somehow she managed a smile. ‘I must fly—I’m going out. I’ll see you around. Do phone Melanie as soon as you can. She worries so.’
She raced out of the pub and through the shabby streets to her flat and saw the Rolls parked outside it. The professor was lolling against the bonnet, talking to a group of small boys, but when he saw her he left them and was at her door to take the key from her and open it.
She didn’t look at him. She was fighting back tears. ‘Don’t you dare to come in,’ she said in a watery voice, and found herself gently urged inside, dumped in the chair and given Meredith to nurse.
‘What you need is a nice cup of tea,’ said the professor placidly. ‘I have found that in this country people recover rapidly when offered a really strong brew, well milked and sugared.’ He put on the kettle and began to whistle as he found cups and saucers and the teapot. ‘This is, of course, only a temporary measure. When you’ve had your tea and a good cry, washed your face and tidied yourself, we will drive somewhere and have something to eat with a bottle of champagne.’
‘Champagne?’ wailed Megan. ‘That’s for celebrating. Oh, do go away!’
He took no notice, merely offered her a large white handkerchief and warmed the teapot, made the tea and brought the tray to the table beside her chair. He poured the tea and put it by her. ‘Drink it while it is hot, only stop crying for a moment while you do so.’
Megan sniffed. ‘I don’t want any tea…’
‘Tut-tut, that’s no way to talk. Did you howl all over young Fielding?’
She blew her nose. ‘Of course I didn’t.’ She added indignantly between sniffs, ‘I do think I might be left alone to cry if I want to.’
He reached out and took the hanky from her and mopped her face. ‘Drink your tea. No need to cry any more, it’s over and done with.’ Then when she obediently sipped, he added, ‘That’s the girl. Had you thought? Until this evening there were three unhappy people, but now there is only one.’
She drank some more tea. She said in a small voice, ‘You’re very kind. I’m sorry I’m so cross and rude.’
‘Think nothing of it. Finish your tea, wash your face and we’ll go out. I’m hungry.’
‘I can’t—I must look a fright.’
‘A very beautiful fright. A comb run through your hair and a touch of powder on the nose and you’ll be even more beautiful.’
She got up and went to the mirror in the kitchen; she looked a positive hag. Besides, she had had a disquieting thought.
‘It’s very kind of you to ask me to go out with you but I don’t think that I should. Wouldn’t your—your wife object?’
He had been rubbing a delighted Meredith’s ears. Now he gave her a kindly impersonal glance. ‘I am quite sure that my wife would not object.’ He spoke casually.
She was holding a cold cloth to her eyes. ‘You don’t think I’m being silly and old-fashioned?’
‘Not in the least. I’m old-fashioned myself.’
Satisfied, Megan squeezed into the shower-room and washed her face, feeling better. ‘I’ll have to do my hair and face in the kitchen, if you don’t mind.’
‘Not in the least.’ He had sat down in the armchair with Meredith on his lap and was leafing through a book he had taken from the shelves.
It was surprising, she reflected, doing things to her face, that, despite the size of him, he contrived to be so self-effacing.
‘Will I do as I am?’ she asked him, very neat once more, her beautiful nose only faintly pink now.
‘Admirably. We aren’t going anywhere grand.’
He took her to Datchet, taking the M4 out of London and turning off just before they reached Windsor. The hotel overlooked the village green and she saw with relief that it was a quiet country restaurant where her clothes would go unremarked. The professor had chosen well. There was a fairly full dining-room with plenty of people dining but they were quiet and the tables were well spaced. He gave her a drink in the bar before they were led to a table in one of the windows. They studied their menus for a moment before he asked, ‘Is there anything that you would particularly like?’
When she shook her head he sa
id, ‘Shall we have salade Niçoise to start with? The roast duck with oranges and Curaçao is very good here…’
‘You have been here?’
‘It’s very convenient for Heathrow,’ he told her. ‘Braised chicory and sauté potatoes?’ He gave their order and began an easygoing conversation until the salad arrived and with it the champagne, and throughout the meal he didn’t allow the talk to verge even for a moment on anything but the lightest of topics. Megan, eating peaches poached in syrup, felt almost guiltily content. As they drank their coffee he asked her if she was on duty in the morning and when she said yes he said briskly, ‘In that case we should be getting back. You need a good night’s sleep.’
If she had an elder brother, she reflected, he would sound just like that, and of course, she reminded herself, he had taken her out because he was a kind man and she had been upset. He would have done that for anyone, not because he particularly wished for her company.
She went out to the car with him, a little muzzy from the champagne, and sat silently beside him as he drove back to the flat where he got out and opened her door and held out a hand for the door key, going in first and looking around him before cutting short her thanks in the nicest possible manner and driving himself away. He wasn’t a man to waste time over the meaningless conversation which so often followed such an occasion; she just had time to say thank you and no more than that. ‘Well, as I thought,’ she told Meredith, ‘it wasn’t as if he invited me out because he wanted to. I dare say he won’t speak to me for days.’
The cat yawned and climbed on to the divan and went instantly to sleep although, later, when he heard Megan crying very softly, he crept up to her and curled up against her shoulder, muttering gently into her ear.
She was quite right; she didn’t see the professor for several days, but she did see Oscar, who greeted her in a shamefaced fashion which caused her to beg him not to be silly. The hospital knew all about it by now and she was aware that there was a good deal of gossip, but her friends rallied round, inviting themselves for supper when she was off duty in the evening, suggesting window-shopping if they were free in the afternoons, and presently the gossip died down and even Oscar managed to behave quite normally if they happened to meet, something which was inevitable. She still felt sad and lost but there was no denying that Oscar was happy, and Melanie when she phoned bubbled over with happiness. In a month or so, Megan told herself, she would appreciate the wisdom of her action, although for the moment she found herself dwelling on what might have been rather too frequently.
She didn’t allow her feelings to interfere with her work; she presented a calm face to her nurses and patients and beyond Jenny’s quietly voiced regret nothing had been said, even Mr Bright, usually so outspoken, refrained from more than a muttered, ‘Sorry to hear about you and young Fielding, Megan,’ as he finished his round. It seemed that there was a quiet conspiracy to bury the whole unhappy business, or so she thought until going on duty one morning she encountered the professor sauntering into the hospital. He wished her good morning and asked cheerfully, ‘Seen anything of young Fielding? I dare say it is a bit awkward at first but one gets used to anything in time.’ He had, as he often did, stopped in front of her so that she couldn’t pass him easily, not without giving him a push in the waistcoat.
She wished him good morning rather coldly. Why did he have to start the day off badly just as she was getting over the whole affair? Since it was obvious that he was waiting for an answer she said, ‘Yes, I’ve seen Oscar several times. He and Melanie are very happy, and I am happy too.’ She lifted her chin at him and was annoyed by his smile.
‘Now that is good news; you’re far too young to become embittered. It’s a good thing to fall in and out of love several times so that when it is the real thing you are aware of the difference. Just like young Fielding.’
‘You’re being very nasty,’ said Megan. ‘I know you’re a consultant and I’m supposed to respect you but I’m not on duty yet and neither are you.’
‘Ah, that’s the spirit. Get it off that delightful chest of yours, Meg. I’ll drive you home on your day off and you can show your family how well you’ve recovered.’
She drew a deep breath. ‘I don’t want—’ she began crossly.
‘Friday, isn’t it? I’ll be outside your flat at half-past eight. Mind you’re ready.’
‘Well, I won’t be,’ said Megan, shaking with temper. She managed to edge past him and flew through the hospital to her ward. He had made her late and put her into a frightful temper besides.
She took the night nurse’s report with a slightly heightened colour and the night staff nurse had to repeat a remark twice, something which had never happened before. When they had gone and Jenny was sitting opposite her at the desk while they conned the day’s work, she so far forgot herself as to draw squiggles all over her clean blotting-paper pad while her trusty aide tried in vain to interest her in Mrs Briggs’ grumbles about her breakfast. She caught Jenny’s eye and smiled reluctantly, ‘Sorry, Jenny, I’m a bit put out. What’s this about Mrs Briggs? She tends to be tiresome, doesn’t she? Supposing we move her bed to the other side of the ward before she starts annoying old Mrs Coke beside her?’ She turned the blotting paper over. ‘Now, who shall we send to Theatre with the first case?’
CHAPTER FIVE
MEGAN told herself several times that she had no intention of driving down with the professor on Friday but all the same she found herself burrowing through her wardrobe, intent on looking her best. The little grey jacket and the pleated skirt would do; she did look nice in it, it was elegant and it suited her. She put it ready for the morning and went to bed and got up half an hour later to put it back in the cupboard and fish around for a corduroy skirt in peat-brown, a rust-coloured silk shirt and a brown cardigan with a shawl collar. She intended to go walking when she got home as well as pottering in the garden; it would be silly to dress up. Sudden tears crowded her throat. There was no point in dressing up, for there was no one to dress up for. She got back into bed and presently fell into a fitful sleep. A pity, for when she got up in the morning she hardly looked her best, so that, despite her best efforts, when she opened the door to the professor’s thunderous knock the first thing he said was, ‘You’ve been moping again. A good thing that you have a day at home.’ He picked up Meredith, snarling quietly in his basket, and ushered her out of her door and into the car, put Meredith on the back seat and got in beside her. Without looking at her he said, ‘We’ll go the long way round, shall we? What time are you expected home?’
‘When I drive myself I usually get there about eleven o’clock.’
‘Good. We’ll go through High Wycombe and then turn off. That will give you time to tell me why you look so down-in-the-mouth.’
‘I’m nothing of the sort, Professor, merely a little tired.’
‘If that is what you want to call it—so why are you a little tired?’ He gave her a quick glance. ‘Ward too much for you?’
‘Of course not,’ she snapped. ‘I took it over nearly five years ago…’
‘You’re in a rut—you need a change.’
‘Are you being tactful and telling me that now that Oscar and I aren’t going to be married it would be a good idea if I left Regent’s?’ Her voice had become a little shrill.
‘Certainly not. You are a good ward sister—and I for one would be very sorry to see you go.’
‘But you’ve just suggested…’
‘That
you should leave? Yes.’ He hadn’t raised his voice, but he almost never did. ‘However, that is a matter for you to decide, isn’t it? As long as you see Oscar—and you can’t avoid that, can you?—you will brood and mope, not because you’re in love with him but because you are raking over old ashes, and that, Megan, is a waste of time.’
Megan fumed silently. She hated to admit it, but he was right, although it meant that she would have to give up her job—hers for the rest of her life, she imagined, and start all over again, away from London, she supposed, somewhere where she wouldn’t see Oscar more than occasionally. She began to go over in her mind the possibilities of a move but she was interrupted almost at once by her companion. ‘Forget it,’ he told her quietly. ‘Enjoy your day. I’m going to turn off and take some inside roads. What are you going to do with yourself?’
‘Garden, go for a walk with Melanie, I expect, eat too much.’
They were driving along a country road with trees on either side and fields beyond, the sky was blue but there was a brisk wind and clouds tumbling along the horizon. ‘Good weather for walking,’ said the professor, ‘and it won’t hurt you to eat too much. You’ve lost weight.’
Megan blushed and thought how silly she was to do that. His tone had been quite impersonal—the voice any medical man would use towards a patient. She looked out of the window and didn’t see his quick glance and little smile.
They reached her home at half-past ten. She hadn’t let her mother know that the professor was bringing her, obstinately certain until the last minute that she wouldn’t go with him, but Mrs Rodner showed no surprise at the sight of the car. She came out of the house to meet them, hugged her daughter and turned to the professor. ‘How nice to see you again, and this time you must stay for coffee.’