by Betty Neels
Gemma was making haste with her face. ‘I should have told you—I did mean to, but I wasn’t sure—I mean it was only to be for a week or two and although he said he could make it all right with Matron, I was a bit doubtful about her wanting me back. But now I suppose there’s nothing for me to go back to.’ She went and put an arm through her cousin’s. ‘I’ll go and find out now. Would you mind if I did go? There’s an awful lot to do here, you know.’
Cousin Maud, who had been doing it for years, agreed a little drily, ‘But it’s time Mandy and Phil helped out a little more, and you haven’t had a holiday for years—not that this job sounds much like a holiday, but at least it will be a change of scene.’
Gemma mulled over her cousin’s words as she cycled along the lanes and forgot them when she saw the charred ruins of the hospital. It really had been badly damaged; true, the Victorian extension at the back had escaped more or less intact, but it had never been used as wards for the patients; the rooms were poky and dark and there were any number of small staircases which the old ladies would never have managed. Gemma propped her bike against a tree and went round to the back and through a door which looked as though it belonged to a church but led instead to a narrow, damp passage leading to the back hall. It was here that Matron had her flat. Gemma knocked on the door and was relieved to hear Matron’s voice bidding her go in, for she remembered then, a little late in the day, that she had gone to the Rectory. But Matron was there, all right, in uniform too, looking calm and collected, just as though the hospital hadn’t been burned around her ears only a few hours earlier.
She looked up as Gemma went in and smiled at her. ‘Sister Prentice, I’m glad you’ve come. I’ve been hearing about this job you’ve been offered—at least one of my staff won’t be out of work.’
Gemma took the chair she had been waved to. ‘You mean the hospital can’t be rebuilt?’
Matron nodded. ‘I’m almost sure of it. There’s only been a preliminary survey, of course, but any idiot can see that it would need rebuilding completely—what a splendid chance for the Hospital Board, who have been wanting to close us down for months, but of course something will have to be done, the other hospitals can’t absorb our old ladies permanently. At the moment they’re distributed around the area, but a handful of them will be able to come to Vicar’s Place—a large empty house some miles away. I don’t know yet, for no one has said anything, but I hope that I shall be asked to go there as Matron until such time as larger premises can be found—probably years. I shall only need two nurses there, for it won’t take more than ten patients.’ She smiled at Gemma. ‘It will take a very long time to settle, Sister Prentice, and I doubt if I can offer you even the prospect of a job.’ She added bracingly: ‘You could get a post in London very easily, you know—your references are excellent.’
Gemma shook her head. ‘That wouldn’t do at all, Matron. This job was marvellous, it meant that I could live at home, you see—there are so many of us and it’s not fair that Cousin Maud should have to manage alone.’
Matron agreed: ‘Yes, of course. Well, shall we leave things as they are and you could come and see me when you get back.’
It was a little vague, but Gemma could see that there wasn’t much to be done at the moment. She agreed without demur and asked after her patients.
‘Scattered round half a dozen hospitals, but unharmed, I’m glad to say. Their resilience is remarkable, isn’t it? I wonder how many of them realized how near death they were—and several of them owe their lives to you and Professor Dieperink van Berhuys. We are all most grateful to you…’
Gemma went pink. ‘The professor was wonderful, but I didn’t do much, Matron.’ She got up. ‘I’m not sure if I shall go to Holland…’ She wished she hadn’t said that because Matron looked so surprised, so she added hastily: ‘I’ll let you know, shall I?’
It had been silly to say that, she admitted to herself as she went back home at her leisure, because of course she was sure; she was going. It would be a nice change from the old ladies, bless them. Besides, she was curious about the professor; she wanted to know exactly what work he did and where he lived and what his family was like. She wheeled her bike into the back garden and went indoors, frowning a little. She mustn’t get too curious; curiosity was one thing, getting too interested was another.
The professor called round that evening, giving her an affable nod as he seated himself, at the twins’ urgent request, at the kitchen table so that he might give them the benefit of his knowledge concerning the more complicated aspects of the algebra they were struggling with.
It wasn’t until he had solved the knottier of the problems that he looked up to say: ‘I’m returning to Holland in three days’ time, Gemma—will you be coming with me?’
She glanced round her. The entire family had found its way into the kitchen by now, each of them apparently absorbed in some task which simply had to be done there, although Cousin Maud was just sitting doing nothing at all, looking at her. All of them were listening so hard for her answer that she could almost hear them doing it. She said ‘yes’, and then, because it had sounded rather terse: ‘Thank you, Professor.’
‘Thank you, Gemma,’ he answered gravely, and then with an abrupt change of manner, added cheerfully: ‘How about all of us gathering round the table for this?’
They had all talked at once after that; they were a united family and each member of it considered that he or she had every right to add their say to the matter. It was the professor who made sense of and produced order out of the spate of suggestions, speculations and improbable advice which was offered. Over cups of cocoa and the total disintegration of the cake which Cousin Maud had only just taken out of the oven, it was decided that Gemma should go to Salisbury in the morning to get a visitor’s passport and replenish her wardrobe, but when she mentioned going to the bank to get some Dutch money, the professor pointed out that that would be quite unnecessary, for she would be paid a salary and he would advance any money she might need when they arrived in Holland.
‘How much are you going to pay her?’ George wanted to know, and was instantly shushed by his elders.
‘Exactly the same as she receives here,’ the professor told him. He looked across at Gemma. ‘That is if you find that an agreeable arrangement?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ She tried to sound as businesslike as he did, but instead her voice sounded a little ungracious, but he didn’t seem to notice, only smiled a little and presently got up to go.
As he sauntered to the door he turned to say carelessly over his shoulder: ‘I have business in Salisbury—I’ll give you a lift. Will nine o’clock suit you?’
As soon as he had gone, Mandy made a pot of tea and they all gathered round again. Gemma hadn’t been away for a holiday for a long time—true, this trip to Holland wasn’t exactly that, but it was abroad, and as such, an event. Her wardrobe was discussed at length by her sisters and cousin while the boys pored over an atlas, offering occasional unhelpful advice as to what she should take with her. Her sisters had more to say, though: Gemma had nice clothes, but not—they were emphatic about that—enough. Living in a small village with not much opportunity of going out, she tended to buy serviceable, even if nice, things and make them last far too long. She was quick to take Phil’s point that the professor’s family might live in the middle of a town and be most frightfully fashionable, in which case she would feel quite out of things. The matter was clinched by Mandy’s dreamy: ‘He wears the most super clothes himself, you know, and I bet they’re wildly expensive—you must have something new, Gemma darling.’
Gemma poured more tea. It was true enough, his clothes had an understated elegance which betokened money, but that didn’t mean to say that he had a lot of it or that his family had either; it was a pity she didn’t know. She had asked him once where he lived and he had told her that he had his own home and that his parents lived within an easy distance. What was an easy distance, anyway? and he hadn’t said whe
re.
‘I saw a denim jacket and skirt in Jaeger’s,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘sand-coloured. I could get some cotton sweaters and a couple of blouses—they had some the colour of a seashell—and I suppose I’d better get another pair of slacks—there’s that lovely coral pink knitted cardigan you gave me, Maud—if I got sand-coloured slacks too…and a jersey dress…’
‘Two,’ said Mandy and Phil in unison, ‘and you’d better have a pretty dress for the evening.’
‘I’m going as a nurse, not a house guest,’ argued Gemma.
‘And think how dire it would be if you met some gorgeous man who wanted to take you out and you couldn’t go because you hadn’t anything decent to wear.’
It didn’t seem very likely; Gemma, on good terms with everyone she met, had nonetheless never been overburdened with invitations from the men of her acquaintance. And why should she? She had asked herself that question years ago and come up with the sensible answer that she was neither pretty enough nor amusing enough. She was very well liked as a kind of big sister; a confidante, because she didn’t keep interrupting when they eulogized about their current girl-friends, but it had seldom entered their heads to ask her out for an evening.
She had got over the hurt of it years ago, but deeply buried in her romantic heart was the hope that one day she might meet some man who would find her irresistible. With a reckless disregard of the amount of money she intended to spend, she said that yes, she would certainly buy something suitable for the evening. It would probably hang in the cupboard all the while she was in Holland, but there was no harm in pretending.
‘Perhaps you’ll wear your uniform,’ suggested George suddenly, and everyone turned surprised eyes upon him.
‘Never!’ said Mandy hotly, but Cousin Maud looked thoughtful.
‘There is that possibility,’ she conceded.
Of course it was a possibility, said Gemma crossly, and why on earth hadn’t she thought of it sooner? ‘Probably I shall be able to get by with a new jersey dress and that cotton shirtwaister I had last summer.’
Phil groaned. ‘Don’t you dare! You must ask in the morning. Supposing he wants you to wear uniform, would you mind?’
Gemma shrugged. ‘I’m a nurse, aren’t I?’ she said flatly, and added mendaciously: ‘I really don’t mind, you know.’
Asking the professor about it had been more difficult than she had supposed. For one thing, he talked about everything under the sun except her impending job, and it wasn’t until he was threading his way through the narrow streets of Salisbury that she asked: ‘Am I to wear uniform while I’m nursing your sister?’
He looked faintly surprised. ‘Decidedly not; Rienieta would dislike that very much—she isn’t a biddable girl.’ He swung the car round a sharp corner and flashed a smile at her. ‘You look—er—severe in your uniform. No, I have it wrong, that makes you sound like a gorgon and you’re not that in the least—it would be better to say that it gives you an air of authority, and I’m afraid she doesn’t react well to that. She’s spoilt—the last of a large family, and we all dote on her.’
Gemma nodded. ‘Oh, I quite understand—look at our George, he gets away with any amount of mischief…’
The professor parked the car in the market square and sat back, in no hurry to get out. ‘You see now why I am anxious that you should come back with me and look after her?’ He turned to smile at her, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘She’s a handful, but a delightful one.’
He got out of the car and went round to open her door. ‘Where shall we meet and when? Will you be free for coffee or shall we make it lunch?’
‘Oh,’ said Gemma ingenuously, ‘I didn’t know—are we going to have lunch?’
‘You won’t be finished before then, will you? Shall we meet at the White Hart at half past twelve? I’ll wait, so don’t panic if you’re late.’
She agreed gravely, wondering she had ever thought of him as devious. He was nothing of the sort, he was dependable and kind, and somehow when she was with him, she didn’t feel plain. She smiled up at him, suddenly happy. ‘I’ll get that passport first,’ she told him, ‘and then I must do some shopping, but I’ll be there at half past twelve.’
The morning was a success. Once the business of the passport had been settled Gemma felt free to spend the money she had drawn from her account—rather more than she had intended, but she consoled herself with the thought that everything she intended buying would certainly be worn throughout the summer and probably next summer too. She arrived at the White Hart a mere ten minutes late, loaded with boxes and parcels which the professor took from her with the air of a man who had done this service many times before, before ushering her into the dining room.
They lunched with splendid appetites off cold roast beef and a great bowl of salad, and, her tongue loosened by the claret her companion had chosen and egged on by his quiet questions, Gemma talked as she hadn’t talked for a long time; about her parents, who had been killed five years earlier in a car crash, and the subsequent difficulties of bringing up her brothers and sisters until Cousin Maud, coming to live with them two years back, had eased her problems. Gemma stopped rather abruptly in the middle of her paean of praise about that lady and exclaimed: ‘I’m sorry, I’m talking too much.’
‘No, you’re not, I’m interested.’ His calm voice, while allaying her fears of being a bore, made her feel that she should change the conversation, which she did rather abruptly.
‘It was funny that Charlie Briggs wasn’t at the fire,’ she observed.
Her companion agreed. ‘I take it he should have been on call and was nowhere to be found? Although from the little I saw of him I doubt if he would have been much use.’
‘You’re so right,’ declared Gemma, her brown eyes flashing, ‘and if that sounds unfair I’m sorry, but if you knew how I dislike him—’ She added: ‘It’s strange how you dislike some people on sight.’
‘And like others the moment you set eyes on them,’ he offered lazily. ‘I can’t say I took to the young man myself. What is Matron going to do?’
They talked about the hospital for a few minutes until the professor suggested that they might finish their shopping together. ‘I should like to get your cousin something. She’s been very kind—cups of tea and cake…’ He smiled his pleasant smile. ‘What do you suggest?’
They spent another hour or so at the shops and it was only much later, sitting quietly with Maud when the others had gone to bed, that Gemma remembered that she hadn’t asked the professor a single question about his home or his family.
And two days later, sitting beside him as they drove away from the village, she wondered if she would wake up suddenly and find that everything had been a dream. The few days had flashed by, she had tried on all her new clothes for the edification of her brothers and sisters, packed them neatly and then gone about her usual household chores, and during that time she had barely exchanged a couple of words with the professor. He had told her, on their way back from Salisbury, at what time they would be leaving and apparently had seen no need to remind her of it. She had eaten a hurried breakfast in the bosom of her family and had then been escorted to the front gate by all of them, to find the professor already there, leaning on his car’s elegant bonnet, so that her goodbyes had been swift before he had packed her tidily into the seat beside his, disposed of her luggage in the boot, said his own goodbyes with cheerful brevity, and driven off. Now they were already through Salisbury and he had put his large, well shod foot down on the accelerator and kept it there. He was a fast driver but a careful one, taking traffic jams and the like with a massive calm which made light of them.
They were crossing from Dover by Hovercraft and driving up through France and Belgium. Bergen-op-Zoom, Gemma had discovered, was their destination, and now she was studying the map to discover just where that was.
The professor had elected to go via Andover and pick up the M3 beyond that town, which meant that he could keep up a good seventy miles a
n hour until they reached Chobham, where he turned off for Dorking and a cross-country route. They stopped at Seal for coffee and then presently picked up the M2 and finally the A2 into Dover. It had been a pleasant run, Gemma conceded to herself. Either the professor knew the route very well indeed or he had an excellent bump of locality, for he hadn’t once evinced uncertainty as to their road, nor had he shown any sign of irritation at the small delays they had had, and he had kept up an entertaining flow of small talk which had passed the time very agreeably. Gemma, pleased with her world, stepped on board the Hovercraft and was whisked towards the coast of France. If there was a fly in her ointment it was a very small one; the professor, she was well aware, was a relaxed man by nature, but did he need to relax so completely that he should fall asleep and stay so, peacefully, for the entire crossing, and leaving her to her own devices? True, he had provided her with magazines and a refreshing drink, but it was the kind of behaviour one might expect from a husband… Perhaps she should take it as a compliment that he should stand on so little ceremony with her. She stared out, watching the coast of France coming closer with every second, and when she looked at him again it was to find him watching her.
He smiled at once as she caught his eye and said apologetically: ‘So sorry—shocking manners, I’m afraid.’ He was wide awake now. ‘I didn’t have much sleep last night—Mrs Turner’s twins…’
Her eyes opened wide. ‘They never arrived—why, Doctor Gibbons said they weren’t due…’
‘And nor were they; they stole a march on us and he was out at Giles Farm.’
‘Oh, so you delivered them.’ She was full of concern. ‘You must be dog-tired. Couldn’t we pull in somewhere after we land so that you could have another nap?’