by Betty Neels
‘But I’m only just recovering—I’ve been very ill.’ She burst into angry tears, ‘I want to go back to Uncle’s—he understands. You’re hard hearted, Cordelia, I wish you’d go away and never come back.’
‘I’ll do that if you really want me to. Shall I tell you something, love? You are bored. I know it’ll be a few weeks before you can do all the usual things but there are heaps of other things—like your German lessons—they’ll pass an hour very nicely. Besides, Frau Keppel told me that she needs the money. Your uncle pays her handsomely but only when she gives you a lesson. She lives with her very old mother and two cats and they depend on her.’
Eileen had stopped crying. ‘How do you know? Why should she tell you?’
‘I expect I’ve got a listening kind of face.’
‘I must agree with that,’ said Dr Trescombe from behind her. ‘Some people—women mostly, never listen, they either talk at the same time as I do or don’t give me a chance to finish what I’m saying. Cordelia is polite enough to wait until I’ve finished however bored she may be.’
Eileen hunched a shoulder. ‘Well, she hasn’t got anything else to do now I’m ill and in pain.’ She declared dramatically.
The doctor leaned his length over the end of the bed and stared down his handsome nose at it’s occupant. ‘Wrong. You are neither ill nor in pain so don’t try and pull the wool over my eyes, I’m too old for it, and you’re wrong about Cordelia. She writes a letter each day to your mother and another one to your grandmother, with a blow by blow account of your progress. And when she’s not doing that, she’s trotting to and fro to sit with you, and last but by no means least, she sorts my letters in the morning, guards my privacy when casual visitors call and answers the ‘phone if Thompson isn’t around.’
Which was all quite true, but he didn’t mention that even when he was home they hardly met. Indeed breakfast was the only time she was sure of seeing him; she was beginning to get used to taking her meals in the little sitting room; either the doctor went out, very elegant in his dinner jacket, or shut himself in his study, presumably eating his dinner after she had gone to bed. He was polite, even vaguely friendly but there was no warmth in his manner. She didn’t allow herself to think too much about that, aware that she would only make herself feel sad.
The doctor left presently and Eileen, presenting a sudden volte-face, conceded that German lessons weren’t a bad idea and how about Cordelia bringing her needlework in the morning.’
Cordelia got up to go. ‘Splendid—with luck you’ll have it finished by the time your mother gets here and you’ll be able to show off your German.’ She submitted to Eileen’s throttling embrace, and said, ‘You’ll grow into a nice person, Eileen—I shall dance at your wedding with real pleasure if you invite me, that is.’
‘You’ll get married first, darling Cordelia, and have lots of children and I’ll have them for bride’s attendants…’
Cordelia laughed. ‘Go on with you! Remember to eat your supper and sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.’
She was half way down the long corridor leading to the entrance when she saw Dr Trescombe, students surging behind him, a stout middle-aged sister beside him, emerge from a door ahead of her. He was listening with bent head to what she was telling him and Cordelia slowed her pace, not wanting to be seen. She wished that she was clever; a ward sister who understood all the brilliant things he was doubtless discussing, making intelligent remarks to which he would listen, someone at whom he would actually look, someone he might even like… She stopped and let out a long sigh. Like wasn’t what she meant; love was the word, she wanted him to love her more than anything in the world, just as she loved him. And why hadn’t she discovered it sooner, this she was at a loss to understand. And why did she have to discover it now? Far better if she hadn’t found out about it until she was safely back in England, miles away from him.
They had disappeared round a corner; she walked on again. Perhaps she was infatuated; after all, she had had precious little chance of meeting any young men during the last few years, perhaps it was the close proximity in which they lived… Not all that close, common sense told her and it wasn’t infatuation, that wouldn’t take into account his absent mindedness, his lack of enthusiasm at having her and Eileen in the apartment, his complete disregard of her, never more marked than these last few days when Eileen was in hospital. There was no point, she thought sadly, in buying any more new clothes, far better for her to save her money as a safeguard against an uncertain future.
She gained the outside and found him waiting for her and when she protested that the walk home would do her good, he merely opened the car’s door and told her to get in. She did so meekly but the meekness was short lived.
‘Why did you stop just now?’ He wanted to know, ‘as though you had discovered something momentous?’
‘Me? But you didn’t see—you were miles away—I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, I daresay I’d remembered something—forgotten something…’ She stopped, suddenly aware that she was talking nonsense.
‘Of course,’ his voice was very smooth. ‘How do you find Eileen?’
‘Very well—bored stiff too.’
‘I think we’d better have her back home in a couple of days time—her stitches will be out by then—that’s if you could cope? She’ll have to take things easily for a week or two, but there’s no reason why she shouldn’t go out each day for a short walk—supposing I hire a fiacre each day and you take a drive, and I must contrive to drive you out to the Vienna Woods before her parents get back.’
‘Will she be able to go back to England when her parents come?’ It was a relief to be able to talk about something which was impersonal.
‘Heavens yes. They’re going straight to Scotland and there’s no question of school for her for the moment, anyway.’
‘I see. She won’t be going to see Lady Trescombe?’
He said carelessly, ‘Oh as to that, I daresay they’ll spend a day or two with her.’ He stopped the car before the door. ‘If you’re not doing anything much this evening could you go through my post? Get it sorted out if you will and put it on my desk; I’m going out later on this evening and I’ll go through it before I leave.’ He leaned across and opened her door. ‘You’ll be going to see Eileen in the morning?’
She felt she should have added more than the bald ‘Yes’ she offered but he didn’t seem to notice. ‘I’m not coming in—I’ve an engagement, tell Thompson I’ll be in to change later, will you?’
He nodded goodbye: ‘I’ll see you at breakfast.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to remark that he didn’t see her at breakfast or anywhere else; she had become a useful appendage to his household, a nonentity to be forgotten the moment she left it. She ate her solitary dinner with no appetite, carefully having dealt with a large pile of letters, and then she went to bed.
In the morning after breakfast she took a tram to the shops to get some embroidery silks for Eileen, and then she went to be with her in the hospital. It was teatime when she got back, served in the small sitting room by Thompson, who murmured that Mrs Thompson had taken it upon herself to make a nice Madeira Cake and hoped that Miss Gibson would enjoy a slice.
For some reason Cordelia felt tearful at this kindly act; at least the Thompsons had never resented her.
There was no point in changing her dress; she did her face and hair and walked back to the hospital; at this hour of the late afternoon the trams were bulging with home-goers and the underground would be of no use to her. She found Eileen low spirited, but then she mostly was by the end of the day; however comfortably she was housed at the hospital, she felt shut in and was as well as that tired and peevish too.
Cordelia turned off the TV a ponderous speechmaker of no entertainment value, switched on some pleasant music on the radio and settled down to the task of cheering up her charge.
‘How’s the embroidery—there’s not much more to do is there? You’ll
get it finished if you keep at it. Has your uncle been to see you?’
‘I’m to come home in two days. Mummy ‘phoned—they’ll be here in ten days. Uncle Charles says I may go for rides each day…’
‘Yes, he mentioned it.’
‘And the Vienna Woods—he says he’ll drive me there and have a picnic.’
So she wasn’t to be included. How he must dislike her. ‘You’ll enjoy that.’
She hadn’t meant to sound wistful but Eileen was a perceptive child. She asked, ‘Do you miss me, Cordelia? Are you lonely?’
‘Well, yes, of course I miss you—you’re good company, love.’
She didn’t see the sudden look of mischief on her companion’s face. Eileen said sweetly: ‘Well, I’ll be back at Uncle Charles’ house in a day or two, won’t I. Cordelia, could you come a bit earlier tomorrow? About half-past nine?’
‘Yes, of course, dear. Does that fit in better with the routine here?’
Eileen’s smile was guileless. ‘Yes, it does. You won’t forget?’ Eileen was still in bed when Cordelia arrived at the hospital the next morning; she wasn’t alone, there was a young man with her, thick set, fair haired, blue eyed, a pleasant smile on his face.
Eileen’s, ‘Hullo, Cordelia, darling,’ was splendidly casual, as was her equally casual introduction of the young man. ‘This is Dr Julius Salfinger, Cordelia. He comes to see me most days when Uncle Charles is too busy. I call him Julius and I expect you can call him that too.’
She watched with a satisfied eye as they shook hands. ‘Julius knows Vienna awfully well, he’s lived here all his life. He says we ought to go to the Gala Rooms at the Hofburg Palace and see the imperial cutlery and silver and go to one of the real Viennese Restaurants for lunch.’ She sighed deeply, ‘but of course there won’t be time now, will there? I mean I won’t be well enough…’
‘It seems a great shame,’ observed Dr Salfinger, ‘that you will have to miss these treats. But why cannot Cordelia…’ He smiled at her, ‘that is if she cares to—join me for lunch one day? You can be spared for that?’
‘Uncle Charles told me that he was going to Salzburg this morning and wouldn’t be back until this evening. Poor Cordelia will be all alone again.’
Cordelia hardly relished the forlorn picture her charge was painting of her. ‘Oh, I’ve heaps to do,’ she began.
‘But you must stop for lunch? May I not call for you, Cordelia? I am free this afternoon and I would like very much to show you the silver when we have had lunch. Half-past twelve? At Dr Trescombe’s apartment?’
It would have been churlish to refuse, besides, she didn’t want to, it would fill an empty day with no hope of seeing Uncle Charles. She accepted nicely, mentally resolving to forget him and concentrate on Julius. She wasn’t quite sure if she liked him, but it was hardly fair to form an opinion so quickly. Besides, it didn’t really matter they were hardly likely to see each other again. The future suddenly loomed frighteningly close, and empty.
Julius was punctual, apparently delighted to be taking her out, but he was also, to her mind, too free with his compliments. She had no illusions about her looks and she thought he must either be blind or a terrible liar with his fulsome remarks. She did her best to ignore them, got into his Porsche and was whisked away to the side streets of Vienna where she had never quite dared to go and where, true to his word, Julius gave her lunch in a charming old-fashioned restaurant where he assured her the food was genuinely Viennese. He turned out to be a pleasant enough companion with a fund of light hearted stories about hospital life and a profound knowledge of the city. It was already two o’clock by the time they reached the Hofburg Palace and went to inspect the silver. This occupied them until three o’clock and since it was a splendid afternoon, Julius suggested that they might take a fiacre drive through the city. ‘We can leave the car here and I’ll drive you back after we’ve had tea somewhere.’
She refused pleasantly. ‘I must get back—there are letters which must get the early evening post and somethings I must do for Eileen…’
She smiled at him. ‘It’s been a lovely afternoon and thank you very much—it was kind of you, you must have so many friends and family here in Vienna and not a great deal of free time.’
‘Ah, but I have enjoyed it too, Cordelia. Please, we will do this again before you go back to England. Dinner one evening? Eileen will have to keep early hours for a few days and then you will be free, perhaps? I am sure that Dr Trescombe goes out a great deal in the evenings—he is a much sought after man, you know.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘But what would one expect? He is rich, handsome and clever—at the very peak of our profession. Although it must be admitted that he cares very little for our social life; he continues to study, he is writing a book and he travels frequently for he is much in demand. He will be missed.’
‘He’s going soon?’ Cordelia was anxious to gather any crumb of information that she could.
‘Within the next two or three weeks, I believe.’ They were driving back to the apartment. ‘Now about this dinner…’
She wished he wasn’t so persistent. She had the feeling that he wasn’t really keen to see her again and if that were true, why was he so anxious that she should accept his invitation. She said carefully: ‘I honestly can’t be sure when I’m going to be free—could we leave it for the moment?’
His heartiness was overpowering. ‘Of course—I’ll see you at the hospital, but remember, I don’t intend to take no for an answer—there must be one evening during the next week when you can be free. I shall ‘phone you each day.’
He leaned across her and opened the door for her. She got out and poked her head through the door once more to thank him once again before he drove off. When she turned round Dr Trescombe was on the pavement behind her.
She was startled into saying stupidly, ‘Oh, I thought that you were in Salzburg…’
‘When the cat’s away?’ He wanted to know in a silky voice she didn’t care for at all.
‘Certainly not. I went to see Eileen this morning—earlier than usual because she asked me to, Dr Salfinger was with her and—and he asked me to have lunch with him and go to see the imperial cutlery. I have lunched alone for days on end,’ her voice rose slightly, ‘it was pleasant to have company.’
‘Am I to stand corrected?’ He wanted to know blandly.
She flushed. ‘No, of course not. I’m sorry if I sounded rude, not,’ she added matter-of-factly, ‘that I was any ruder than you were.’
He laughed then. ‘Have you had tea? No? Then let us go up to the apartment and share a soothing pot between us.’ As they went up to the flat, ‘You like young Salfinger?’
‘It was very kind of him to ask me out to lunch,’ she replied.
‘I’m not surprised you aren’t too keen,’ said the doctor surprisingly. ‘He’s very much one for the girls.’ He turned to look at her as he opened the apartment door. ‘You’re not at all his cup of tea,’ he observed coolly.
Cordelia stared up at him, her face very red. She said, her teeth chattering with rage. ‘I am paid to look after Eileen,’ she told him in a voice she strove to keep steady, ‘not to be the butt of your rudeness, Dr Trescombe.’
She ducked past him and skimmed along the hall and up the steps, bent on reaching her room and staying there. He overtook her quite easily before she could get her hand on the doorknob. His large, firm hand closed over hers, gently prising it off, not letting go.
‘Blame my lack of female company—I have become uncouth. I said it all wrong, didn’t I?’
She tugged at her hand with no success at all, and muttered darkly, not looking at him.
‘Cordelia, be good enough to look at me.’ And when she didn’t, he put his free hand under her chin so that she had to meet his eyes. He went on deliberately, ‘You’re not his cup of tea; not his sort—you don’t know much about men, do you? He’s out for a good time and you’re easy game—a few days of what he calls fun and you’ll be gone and he’ll forg
et you.’ He added, ‘I’d prefer you not to see him again, Cordelia.’
Her tongue betrayed her thoughts before she could curb it. ‘Why do you bother?’
His face became as austere as his voice had been. ‘I am responsible for your welfare while you are under my roof.’ He let her hand go at last and Thompson who had come into the hall to enquire about tea, had trotted away again to tell Mrs Cook all about it and then gone back into the hall, making sure that they heard him this time.
When she joined him presently she had expected to feel awkward but Dr Salfinger wasn’t mentioned, indeed, Dr Trescombe behaved as though they had just that moment met. She never would understand him, she thought despondently, even though she loved him so. She answered his polite impersonal remarks in like fashion and was glad when she could escape to her room. Quite easy as it happened, for he observed as he put down his cup and saucer that he had some reading to do.
But he came out of his study ten minutes later and left the house, driving away in the Jaguar, and Cordelia, washing her hair, never heard him go, nor did a strangely subdued Eileen, when she visited her later on that evening, think fit to tell her of her uncle’s visit. Uncle Charles had asked a number of pertinent questions he had had no difficulty in worming her rather silly little plot from her.
‘Why did you do it, Eileen?’ He had asked her, ‘had you thought that you might hurt Cordelia?’
She had protested against that. ‘I wanted her to have some fun—she was lonely, Uncle Charles, she never goes anywhere, only with me when I’m there, and once to a concert with you. I thought she might like a boyfriend.’
‘Your intentions may have been good my dear, but young Dr Salfinger is hardly…why him?’
‘I told him about Cordelia and he thought it would be fun to take her out and pretend that he’d fallen for her.’ Said Eileen sulkily. ‘So I got her to come early so that he could meet her here.’
He looked at her in silence and she said: ‘Are you angry Uncle Charles?’
‘Yes, I am. You see, Eileen, Cordelia is a nice girl; not the kind of person people play tricks on. I daresay she thought that young Salfinger really wanted to take her out and if she discovered the truth she’d be upset.’ He smiled suddenly: ‘Don’t play Cupid again, my dear; leave Cordelia to find her own love.’