by Betty Neels
There was someone in the canal, floundering around, and as she looked disappearing beneath its murky surface. A head bobbed up—it was impossible to see whether it was man, woman, or child, and this time it wasn’t a shout, more a water-filled gasp. Serena looked around her. There was no one to be seen and she doubted if she could get help from the houses across the street; quite a few of them were boarded up anyway. She gave a small sigh, got out of her coat, pulled off her wellingtons and lowered herself down the slippery bank into the dark brown and very cold water. She was a good swimmer and she had no doubt that she could haul whoever it was in the canal out of it. She gasped as she began to swim towards the bobbing head, and the icy water bit into her.
Marc, free until his appointments with private patients at noon, stood looking out of his sitting-room window. A very nasty day, he thought, and observed to Harley, ‘I pity anyone forced to go out in this.’ He glanced at his watch. Serena would be leaving for work shortly. He saw her in his mind’s eye, arriving at the hospital looking like a small half-drowned mouse and soaked to the skin through that shabby coat...
A few minutes later he left his house with the faithful Harley, Bishop’s pleas that he should at least eat his breakfast falling on deaf ears. He was probably going on a wild goose chase, he pointed out to the beast as they got into his car.
There was little point in going to Park Street. Serena might have left already, but if he took the route from the hospital which she had told him she used each day, he might come upon her and at least drive her the rest of the way. There was no sign of her as he passed the hospital and followed the road she should be taking by now. ‘I’m a fool,’ he told Harley. ‘In all probability she has managed to get on to a bus.’
He turned into the shabby street by the canal and saw the small group of people halfway down it, watching something in the water—more than something. Two heads bobbing up and down, making slow difficult progress to the bank.
He had called the police and ambulance by the time he reached the spot, and then he was out of the car, his Burberry flung on its bonnet, and clambering down the bank, before anyone there had time to see what he was doing. The two in the water were a little nearer now, and under the oil and filth he saw Serena’s face as he slid into its murky depths.
‘Get yourself on to the bank,’ he told her. ‘I have her now!’ and Serena, numb with cold and tired to death, did as she was bidden, only when she got to the bank hauling herself out of the water was more than she could manage. She heard Marc’s voice giving orders in a voice which expected obedience, and at the same time she was given an efficient and undignified boost from behind while several hands pulled her on to the snowy path. She lay there, glad to be alive, her teeth chattering, dripping icy water while she listened to a good deal of heaving and pushing and hard breathing close by. Someone laid a coat over her and she heard Marc say, ‘Hold on, dear girl. She’s alive, but only just.’
She slipped back into an icy limbo then until the ambulance and the police arrived, and very shortly after the blessed sound of Marc’s calm voice. ‘You’re going in the ambulance, Serena. You need a check-up and a few hours to get warm again.’
‘No, I’ll go home... Will she be all right? The woman?’
‘Thanks to you, yes, I think so.’ She heard him chuckle. ‘Next time pick someone your own size, Serena, she must weigh all of fifteen stone!’
She felt his hand on her hair. ‘I’m filthy,’ she muttered.
‘Indeed you are.’ He turned and looked down at her dirty face, pale under the mud, her hair in rats’ tails, a small bruise over one eye, and she didn’t see his smile.
She seemed to have lain there for hours, although in fact it was only minutes. The doctor politely picked her up and carried her to the ambulance, and she found herself lying on a stretcher beside the woman she had rescued. Marc was quite right, she was a very fat woman indeed, conscious now and complaining in a disjointed way. Serena closed her eyes and dozed off.
She was dreadfully sick in Casualty, and what with that and the dirt and mud and her clothes sticking wetly to her it all got a bit too much. She wept while Sister and a nurse undressed her and sponged her with warm water, and she was still weeping when the doctor, looking very clean and dressed in some miraculous way in a dry and elegant suit, came to look at her.
‘Been sick?’ he wanted to know cheerfully. ‘Good, Sister, I’ll take a look at her chest—are there any cuts and abrasions?’
She had been put into a theatre gown, and Sister lifted it here and there to show a few grazes and more bruises. ‘Anti-tetanus to be on the safe side,’ said the doctor, his stethoscope going from one end of her shoulder blades to the other. ‘Sounds all right. She had better be warded for twenty-four hours.’ He smiled down at her and, seeing her greenish face, handed her a bowl. Just in time!
‘So sorry!’ she gasped.
‘No need. It’s the best thing that could happen.’ He patted her on the shoulder and went away.
‘There,’ said Sister, ‘you’ll probably be quite yourself by tomorrow.’
‘He was in the water too,’ said Serena.
‘Yes, dear. How very fortunate that he happened to be passing and saw you both. You’re a very brave girl.’ She smiled kindly and passed the bowl again.
* * *
SISTER WAS QUITE right—Serena felt perfectly well again by the next morning. She had been put in a room by herself and given delicious food and allowed to lie for ages in a hot bath and wash her hair. They had done that in Casualty, but only to get the worst of the debris out of it. She had woken early and started to worry about Beauty, but Night Sister, doing her last round, assured her that someone was looking after the kitten and that her coat and handbag had been collected and brought to the hospital. ‘Someone will fetch you some clothes presently so that you can go home. You’ll need a day or two before you go back to work.’
‘The woman who was in the water—is she all right?’
‘Doing nicely, dear. She’ll be here for a few days, though. Now I’m going to get Nurse to bring you a cup of tea...’
Serena went to sleep again after her breakfast, and when she woke there were her clothes neatly piled on a chair by the bed. She could hear the distant clatter of plates, which meant dinnertime for the patients. It might be a good idea to get herself dressed before her dinner came, and then she supposed she would be allowed to go back to Park Street.
She was sitting quietly, dressed and ready for whatever was to happen next, when the doctor came in. Sister was with him, and they both stood and studied her for a moment. When he said quietly, ‘Ready to go back, Serena?’ she stood up and said just as quietly,
‘Yes, thank you, sir,’ and got her jacket. It wasn’t really warm enough, but her coat, Sister had told her, had been sent to the cleaners. The doctor held it for her, waited while she thanked Sister for her care and ushered her out of the room.
In the corridor she stopped. ‘I haven’t had the chance to thank you for saving me—us—yesterday. I am very grateful.’
He nodded, and she wondered why he looked so aloof, and yet on their way to the entrance he was friendly enough.
‘I’ll get a taxi,’ she told him, and held out a hand.
He took it and walked her through the door, opened the Bentley’s door and popped her in. ‘There’s no need—’ she began, and stopped at his curt, ‘Don’t argue, Serena.’
So she sat silently, but not for long. ‘This isn’t the way to Park Street,’ she pointed out.
‘You are to stay in my house for a few days. Mrs Bishop will look after you.’
‘I can’t, you know I can’t! There’s Beauty, she’s all alone.’
‘She’s at my house. I fetched her yesterday when I went for your clothes.’
She looked at his stern profile. ‘But there was no need...’
He didn’t answer, and she became silent, feeling puzzled. There was something wrong, she knew that because she loved him, and she longed to ask him what it was, but she had no right to.
Bishop was hovering as they went into the house and Mrs Bishop, small and round and cosy, came from the kitchen to lead her upstairs to a pretty room, warm and carpeted and glowing with soft colours. ‘Just you take off that jacket, miss, and come right down for your lunch,’ said Mrs Bishop, and stood over her while she tidied her hair and powdered her small nose.
The doctor was waiting for her. They drank their sherry, making small talk until Bishop ushered them into the dining-room. He stayed in the room all the time so that Serena was quite unable to say anything she wanted to say. It was tiresome uttering platitudes and having them capped by her companion. She ventured a peep at him now and again. He looked inscrutable and, she fancied, angry. She wondered why.
She soon found out. They sat facing each other by the fire with Harley curled up on his master’s feet and Beauty on her lap. Serena poured the coffee and, still conscious of the silence between them, cast around for something to say. Much as she wanted to stay at Marc’s house, she had decided during the last half-hour that it wouldn’t do at all. He was being kind only because he felt it was his duty.
He put his cup down. ‘I telephoned your mother, Serena.’ His quiet voice sent a shiver down her back. ‘You have been telling me a pack of lies.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
THERE WAS NO point in denying it. Serena said, ‘Yes, I know. I’m sorry.’ A remark which was received with a mocking smile and a raised eyebrow so that she felt compelled to add, ‘You’re the very last person in this world I would lie to.’
A silly remark, she realised the moment she had uttered it, and justly deserving the doctor’s look of cold disbelief. It would be better if she stayed silent. She stroked Beauty and looked at her shoes.
The doctor settled back in his chair. ‘And now, suppose you tell me the truth of the matter, Serena.’
And, since there was really nothing else she could do about it, she did. ‘You see,’ she hastened to add when her tale was finished, ‘it’s all turned out very well, for I shall spend Christmas with Aunt Edith at Great Canning.’
His eye fell on the kitten. ‘And Beauty?’
‘Oh, I’ll take her in a basket, I’m sure she’ll be welcome.’
She was doing her best to behave naturally, but she could sense the barrier between them. Perhaps he would never trust her again, she thought gloomily, and it would serve her right, although at the time she had thought that she was doing the right thing. Overcome with sudden and ridiculous self-pity, she found herself wishing that she had drowned in the canal, then perhaps he would have been sorry. She had a clear picture of her lifeless form with him bending over her, full of remorse...
‘Stop daydreaming, Serena, and listen to me. I shall be away for two days. You are to stay here, and Mrs Bishop will take care of you. By then you should be fit for work again. I will arrange for Bishop to drive you back to Park Street in two days’ time so that you may start work on the following morning. If by some chance you don’t feel that you have completely recovered be good enough to let Mrs Dunn know so that she can arrange for someone to take over from you.’
Serena said quickly, ‘Is that what you would like, someone to work for you instead of me? I—I’d quite understand if you did.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Serena! I thought you a girl of common sense—you’re talking like an irritable child.’
This was too much! She got to her feet, clutching Beauty. ‘I think it would be best if I went to bed.’
It was disconcerting when he got up with a cheerful, ‘Yes, a good idea. Your good sense will return after a sound night’s sleep.’
He held the door for her and she went past him without looking up, muttering goodnight as she went.
Later, lying in her soft warm bed, she tried to be sensible and think what was best to be done. The dignified thing would be to find another job and go miles away where she would never see him again, but he might possibly guess at her reason, and that was unthinkable. Her love for him was a secret she was determined that no one would share, let alone guess. Common sense, gradually taking over again, urged her to go on just as she had been doing. She was, after all, just someone who worked for him, and in time he would forget the whole thing. Besides, he would have his wife to absorb his thoughts. Perhaps he was going to spend the two days with her. Serena began to imagine her; young and fair and beautiful, that went without saying, with cupboards full of lovely clothes and a delightful nature. She closed her eyes resolutely on tears and presently fell asleep.
* * *
NO ONE COULD have been kinder than Mrs Bishop. Breakfast in bed, a gentle walk in the narrow garden at the back of the house, with Beauty darting to and fro, and then Bishop coming to call her indoors so that she could drink her coffee. The house was run on oiled wheels and Serena was treated like an honoured guest. Two days had never passed so quickly or so delightfully. At the end of the second one she collected her few possessions, and, with Beauty tucked under an arm, got into the Rover which Bishop had brought to the door, and was driven away with Mrs Bishop waving from the doorstep.
Park Street, still under a thin mantle of dirty snow, looked uninviting as Bishop drew up before Primrose Bank, got out, rang Mrs Peck’s bell and held the door for Serena to get out. ‘I’ll see to your things, miss,’ he assured her. ‘You go ahead and open the doors if you will.’
Mrs Peck greeted her with a warmth she had hardly expected and followed her through the door to her own room. Serena unlocked the door, but made no attempt to go in. Someone had lit the gas fire and there were flowers on the table, a bowl of hyacinths on the bookshelf. There was even a tray laid for tea...
‘Oh, how very kind! Mrs Peck, did you do all this? Thank you.’
‘Well, yes, in a manner of speaking I did,’ said Mrs Peck, and stood aside to allow Bishop to go past her with a large cardboard box.
He put it on the table. ‘Mrs Bishop thought it might make things easier for you if you had your supper cooked ready for you.’ He took a quick look round the room and thought how unsuitable it was for such a nice young lady. ‘If there’s anything I can do, miss, I’d be glad...’
‘No, thank you, Bishop. But please tell Mrs Bishop how grateful I am for my supper, and you have both been so kind to me. Thank you again.’
‘A pleasure, miss.’ He cast a superior eye over Mrs Peck. ‘I leave you in good hands, I have no doubt.’
He was not mistaken. Mrs Peck, despite her brusque manner, had a kind heart. Besides, Dr ter Feulen had given her more than enough for the flowers and all the extra gas she had used keeping the room warm, not to mention the tea and coffee and biscuits and so on she had been asked to purchase. She put the kettle on now and made the tea, observing gruffly that Serena was a heroine and make no mistake, and it was the least she could do. She then took herself off, looking embarrassed at showing so much sentiment.
Alone, Serena fed Beauty, who gobbled up her food and then settled before the fire, then sat down to drink her tea, and because she couldn’t help but compare her surroundings with the comfort of the doctor’s house she busied herself unpacking the box. There wasn’t just supper in the form of a chicken pie, game chips and a winter salad, there were eggs, rolls, butter, cheese, a half-bottle of wine and a box of fruit.
‘Well, look at all this,’ declared Serena to a somnolent Beauty. ‘How very kind of Mrs Bishop!’ She began preparations for her supper, wondering if the housekeeper would tell the doctor what she had done and if he would mind. Not that it mattered—she had every intention of eating everything there and sampling the wine as well.
Someone had hung her coat behind the curtain, newly cleaned and pressed, and she was glad of it in the morning
, for it was cold and although it was dry the sky was grey and threatening. She walked to work, racing past the canal as hard as she could go, not wanting to be reminded about it—if the woman hadn’t fallen in and she hadn’t gone in after her then there would have been no need for Marc to have rescued her and discovered about her mother. Oh well, it was over and done with now, and probably he had already put it out of his mind.
Which seemed to be the case, for beyond a preoccupied ‘good morning’ as she joined his team in Outpatients, he had nothing to say to her. Her day was busy, as usual, enlightened by several of the staff going out of their way to compliment her on her bravery, to all of whom she pointed out quite truthfully that if it hadn’t been for Dr ter Feulen most probably she and the woman would have got into difficulties.
During the next few days it was as if he was avoiding her. Work appeared on her desk, set there by an unseen hand, sometimes with a scrawled note attached, and it wasn’t until his last clinic of the week that Serena saw him again.
He stopped her as she was leaving the hospital. ‘You have fully recovered?’ he asked her austerely, and looked down his magnificent nose at her so that she wanted to turn and run away from him and his scornful look.
‘Yes, thank you,’ and since she hadn’t had the chance to thank him properly, ‘I’m very grateful to you and to Mr and Mrs Bishop, they were so kind...’ She blushed then, for it sounded as though he hadn’t been kind too. She added feebly, ‘You too, of course, sir.’
His courteous, ‘Thank you, Serena,’ chilled her to the bone. Even if she had wanted to make amends she was given no chance, for he bade her a good evening in the same austere voice and stood there waiting for her to go on her way.
It wanted only a few weeks to Christmas, and everyone said that just for once it would be a white one, since it snowed on and off almost each day, although never enough for it to settle. Serena had had two postcards from her mother, both overflowing with the delights of sun and warmth and ending with a meaningless, ‘See you soon,’ which she didn’t quite believe. She had had letters from Aunt Edith too, each one reiterating her pleasure at meeting Serena again for Christmas and making no objection to Beauty’s presence then. Serena bought suitable presents and a cat basket, and in a fit of extravagance spent too much money on a pair of soft leather boots.