by Betty Neels
At that meal the professor’s manner towards her was so reminiscent of that of one of his more good-humoured rounds that Julia’s splendid appetite was almost ruined by her bewilderment.
He left soon after lunch, promising to bring his son within the next few days and complimenting Mrs Mitchell on her delicious cooking. He gave Julia the briefest of nods and a careless, ‘We shall see each other before long I have no doubt.’
‘Well, of course we shall,’ declared Julia sharply to his departing form, now out of earshot. ‘Twice a week on the ward, not counting the odd visits when he takes a fit into his head…’
Her mother tucked an arm into hers, ‘Such a nice man—but I expect he can be tiresome sometimes.’
Julia looked at her parent and encountered an innocent look. ‘He’s a very nice man,’ she conceded, ‘he likes his own way which I suppose is allowable seeing that he is an eminent physician, but he can be more sarcastic than you would ever believe, and he has a nasty temper. Just like me.’
Her mother smiled. ‘How interesting darling. Let’s do the washing up.’
Professor van der Wagema returned three days later, bringing his son with him. Julia was in the paddock behind the house, rubbing down Star while Jane edged backwards and forwards, not wanting to be left out. Julia was wearing an elderly corduroy skirt and a cotton sweater which had seen better days, and she hadn’t bothered overmuch with her face or her hair, which she had tied back loosely and now it was very untidy. She looked up when she heard voices and her first wish to go somewhere and do her hair was swallowed up in indignation that the professor should take her unawares.
He then fetched up beside her and began to pull at Jane’s ears. ‘Hullo, Julia, I’ve brought Nicholas to meet you before he is introduced to your father! It’s his half day.’ He put a great arm on his son’s shoulders. ‘And Nicholas, this is Miss Julia Mitchell, my ward sister at St Anne’s.’
Julia wiped a rather grubby hand on her skirt and held it out. ‘Hullo, Nicholas, is my father waiting for you or would you like to take a look at Star and Jane?’
The boy was like his father, with the same direct dark gaze, and he had his smile too. ‘May I?’ He looked up at his father who said casually, ‘I don’t see why not, I have to have a talk with Mr Mitchell, I might just as well have it now as later if he finds that convenient. Ten minutes?’
Julia and Nicholas nodded in unison. ‘Do you ride?’ she asked the boy. He nodded. ‘Oh, yes—Father and I go riding early in the mornings when we’re in the country. I’ve a pony of my own. I like Jane.’
‘She’s a sweetie, isn’t she? She doesn’t do much now, though, she’s quite elderly, but she loves to be with Star.’ She thrust her hand into a pocket. ‘Here, give her this carrot, will you and here is some sugar for Star. We’d better go to the house I think.’
They stroked the animals’ noses, bade them be good and started back across the paddock. ‘Are you coming here for your tuition or having it at school?’ asked Julia.
‘I’m to have it at school,’ he told her, ‘but Mr Mitchell said that I could come over on my half days if I liked and have a lesson then.’
‘That’ll be nice—other boys have done that from time to time. I expect you are looking forward to the holidays?’
‘Rather, only Father has to work most days, but when he is free we go out—that’s when we are in London.’
Julia’s curiosity got the better of her. ‘You said you had a pony in the country…’
‘I have, we’ve got a cottage just outside Winchester, when Father can get away, we go there with Martha—I like it much better than London.’
‘You like school?’
‘Oh, yes. I shall be a doctor when I grow up, of course.’
‘Well, yes… We’ll go in through the kitchen, then we can wipe our feet.’
She ushered him into the hall and poked her head round the study door. ‘I’ve brought Nicholas—shall he come in?’
Her father peered over his glasses. ‘Yes, my dear. You’re rather untidy, Julia.’
‘Star needed his hooves seen to.’ She didn’t look at the professor, although she was very conscious of him watching her. ‘Here’s Nicholas.’
She went upstairs and met her mother coming down. ‘Darling, your hair.’ Her parent paused on the top step. ‘They’ll stay to tea,’ she suggested.
Julia tugged off her hair ribbon. ‘I’ve no idea. Is Nicholas to have a first lesson today? If so you’ll have to entertain the professor.’
‘I’ll get the tea,’ observed her mother and gave her a limpid look. ‘You can entertain him, after all you must have a great deal to talk about; patients and so forth…’
‘Mother,’ began Julia and then laughed. ‘Well, he’ll have to entertain himself until I get down.’
She didn’t hurry. She put on a silk shirt blouse and a tweed skirt and sat down before her dressing table to make up her face carefully and brush her hair into a loose roll. She secured the last pin, took a keen look at her reflection and then went downstairs. There was no sign of the professor, either in the sitting room or the dining room; she could hear the faint drone of voices coming from her father’s study, perhaps he was there. She went along to the kitchen and opened the door. ‘He’s gone,’ she began and saw him, hands in his pockets, leaning against the old-fashioned dresser, watching her mother cut up one of her seed cakes.
‘No, he’s here,’ observed the professor at his most urbane. ‘There’s something about a kitchen which makes for conviviality.’ He eyed her splendid proportions with an appreciative eye, and Julia, always so calm and collected, suddenly felt awkward.
‘Oh, indeed? By the same token there’s something about a hospital ward which makes for sarcasm and ill humour.’
He allowed himself the faintest of smiles, and she said quickly, ‘I wouldn’t dare to say that on the ward.’
‘I should hope not, indeed, but feel free to speak your own mind in your own home, Julia.’
‘Shall we have tea?’ interposed Mrs Mitchell, ‘you can argue so much more comfortably sitting round a table. Be a dear and carry in the tray, will you, Professor? Julia, you bring that plate of scones, I dare say those two will be hungry after all that Latin.’
The professor laughed and after a minute, so did Julia. She didn’t know why he was amused; she had laughed at the very idea of the professor being told to carry the tray, something she suspected he seldom did in his own home.
Mr Mitchell, still muttering Latin tags under his breath, and Nicholas looking pleased with himself, joined them round the table; Mrs Mitchell had always made a point of setting a good old-fashioned tea before her family, even when the boys weren’t home, it made a pleasant break in the late afternoon and still left a leisurely evening before supper.
Nicholas sitting beside Julia at the large round table, eyed the food with pleasure and needed no urging to make a good tea. And his father, Julia noticed, ate equally heartily. Of course, he was a very large man and perhaps he hadn’t had much lunch…
The talk was light hearted and general and everyone joined in. Nicholas had nice manners and although he was a little shy, held his own well enough when called upon to take his share in the conversation. They sat over the leisurely meal until the professor looked at his watch.
‘I am reluctant to say that we must go—I have to hand Nicky over before half-past seven, and it will take us twenty minutes or so to drive back.’
They all went into the hall and Nicholas hung back to say to Julia, ‘I hope I may come again, I like it here and I like you.’
‘Why thank you, Nicholas.’ She was touched by his friendly overture, ‘I expect we’ll see each other again—I’m on holiday for another week.’
The professor wasn’t a man to hang around saying endless goodbyes. He shook hands, complimented Mrs Mitchell on her delicious cakes, thanked Mr Mitchell for his kindness in seeing Nicholas, waited while the boy made his own polite farewells and ushered him out to the car,
pausing only a moment to mutter ‘Haec olim meminisse juvabit’ into her surprised ear.
‘And what did that mean?’ she asked her father, watching the big car slide away down the lane.
‘It will be a joy to us to recall this some day.’ Her father added in some satisfaction, ‘A scholar—let us hope that Nicholas takes after him.’
Julia wasn’t listening. ‘Now why on earth should he say that?’ she asked herself and followed her mother indoors. Her mother who had listened with interest, didn’t feel called upon to answer her.
Nigel came for the weekend, driving himself down; he looked tired and vaguely worried and Julia guessed that he had had a busy time at the hospital. She took him out into the garden to a sheltered sunny corner and carried out the coffee tray. ‘Mother and Father have gone into Salisbury but they’ll be back for lunch.’
She had hoped that he would have wanted to discuss their future but she squashed that idea at once; he wasn’t in the mood. She plied him with coffee and her mother’s cake and listened with a sympathetic ear to his account of the week’s work, commenting suitably when he paused for breath. But presently he enquired, ‘And you? What have you been doing, Julia?’
‘Oh, rides on old Star and then helping Mother and doing a bit of gardening.’ For some reason she didn’t want to tell him about the professor’s visit; her father would almost certainly mention it anyway.
She went in presently to get lunch, leaving him in the sunshine. But when Mr and Mrs Mitchell returned he came indoors and they all sat around talking, plying him with questions about his new job.
‘So now you can think about getting married,’ declared Mrs Mitchell.
‘Well, perhaps,’ he smiled at her indulgently. ‘I must find my feet first and we ought to wait for an opening for Julia… There are a couple of posts vacant in the early summer.’
Mrs Mitchell said nothing and he went on defensively, ‘We thought that she could go on working for a time. She’d be bored alone all day, anyway.’
‘I was never bored,’ declared Mrs Mitchell sharply, ‘but then I had the housework to do and the shopping and then the children. One is never bored with children—frustrated—ill-tempered, tired to death with them, but never bored.’
Julia thought it prudent to go into the kitchen and make the salad. She didn’t want to take part in the argument, however reasonably it would be conducted; she had a feeling that she might be unreasonable if someone asked her what she felt about it.
Over lunch Mr Mitchell mentioned the professor’s visit.
‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ said Nigel, ‘who would have thought it? How very domestic too…’
‘You’re not to tell anyone,’ said Julia firmly. ‘He’s—he’s a very private person and I don’t think he’d want the whole of St Anne’s to know that he’s been married and that he has a son.’
‘Why ever not?’ Nigel was laughing at her.
‘Father told you because you’re almost family—you should respect his confidence.’ She added almost pleadingly. ‘Please promise you won’t tell anyone, Nigel?’
He shrugged. ‘Okay—if it makes you happy. And that’s funny coming from you—you spend your time biting each other’s heads off.’
‘I don’t see that that has anything to do with it. He’s my boss and I must be loyal to him, you must see that.’
‘All right, although I think you’re taking things too seriously. What’s the boy like?’
‘Eleven years old. Rather like his father…’
‘Clever too,’ put in her father. ‘Sharp as a needle. I’m interested to see how he gets on with the other boys when I go next week.’
Nigel had lost interest. He began to talk about Bristol again and Julia, relieved to have skimmed over the little matter of the professor’s visit, encouraged him.
The weekend went quickly. Nigel didn’t ride, but they went for long walks and to church on Sunday. The vicar, standing at the door after the service beamed at them. ‘And when are we to have the wedding?’ he asked jovially.
It was Nigel who answered him: ‘Not just yet, Vicar. Perhaps in the early summer.’
The vicar looked rather surprised, then laughed uncertainly. ‘Just so—“Marry in haste…” I am always cautioning young people of this parish.’
Julia smiled at him because he was doing his best. She wanted to remind him that neither she nor Nigel were young people but that would have been unkind. She said cheerfully, ‘A summer wedding is the nicest I think.’
Nigel went back on Sunday evening and they still hadn’t talked much about the future. She had tried but each time he had changed the subject and she wasn’t sure if it had been intentional. Perhaps when she got back to the hospital they would have a quiet evening in her flat and she would try and make him see her point of view.
They waved him away from the porch and Julia found herself thinking of the professor’s departure. One day, she promised herself, when he was in a good mood, she would ask him what he had meant, quoting that Latin tag to her.
It seemed very quiet on Monday with Nigel gone and her father away at the two prep schools he visited. He wouldn’t be home until the evening for they were some miles away. She and her mother made short work of the chores, crammed the washing machine and set it going and sat down to drink their coffee.
Her mother sipped reflectively. ‘Darling, don’t think I’m prying but I can’t quite understand why Nigel is so keen on you working once you’re married, and why wait until next summer? He’s got the job and a place to live and neither of you are… What I mean is, you’re both sensible enough to manage very well.’
Julia stirred her coffee for the second time. ‘I don’t quite understand either, Mother.’ She sounded forlorn. ‘I—I don’t seem able to make Nigel understand that I’m not getting any younger. Even if we married now…’ She gave a rueful little laugh. ‘I’ll be a very elderly Mum. Perhaps he hasn’t thought about that; when I get back we must have a talk and get things straight.’
‘Yes, dear. What do his people think about it I wonder?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Julia gave her mother a direct look, her eyes very green. ‘I’ll have to find that out, won’t I?’
‘It’s not really anyone’s business but yours, darling. Do we want to do anything today?’
‘Let’s be lazy. I thought I’d take Star for a good trot tomorrow; he’s getting too fat. I’ll go down and see to the pair of them now, shall I?’
The day was peaceful. It was still fine but getting chilly now, Julia pottered contentedly until it was time to help her mother with supper and when her father came home they sat around the log fire over drinks, discussing their day. ‘I’ve asked that boy of Professor van der Wagema’s over for a while at half term,’ Mr Mitchell told his wife. ‘His father’s working it seems and there is no point him going home to a more or less empty house. He jumped at the idea—wanted to know if he could ride Star?’ He turned to Julia. ‘A pity you won’t be here, Julia; we could borrow Ben Stratton’s mare and you and Nicholas could have a good ride together.’
‘When is his half term?’ she asked idly. And when he told her, ‘That’s my weekend, I’m almost sure. I’ll come home of you like,’ she grinned. ‘In fact I’ll come home whether you like it or not; it’ll be nice to get away from St Anne’s for a couple of days.’
‘Could Nigel get free too?’ asked her mother.’
‘He’ll be in Bristol. That’s the weekend he starts there.’
She passed her plate for a second helping. ‘He plans to go to his parents on the Saturday and Sunday and report for work on Sunday evening ready for Monday morning.’
‘Oh, well, then that fits in beautifully, love, you’ll be glad to have something to do. You’re bound to miss him…’
Julia nodded. The prospect of long winter evenings on her own wasn’t inviting; she could always spend them with her friends, of course, but one couldn’t go to the cinema or the theatre on every free evening. There would be let
ters to write of course, and then Wellington for company and the odd weekend spent with friends who had married. She should be content, but she wasn’t, it worried her a bit.
They breakfasted early so that her father could go into Salisbury to take a class, and the housework done, Julia saddled Star and rode at a leisurely pace along the country lanes and bridle paths. Because it was overcast and chilly she had donned slacks and an old, out-at-elbows sweater and tied a bright scarf over her red head, but once she had urged the pony to a smarter pace, she glowed with warmth, so that her cheeks were a bright pink and her hair became loose under the scarf and escaped in thick waving tresses. They turned for home at last, Star ambling the last mile, glad to get back to his stall and Jane, but determined not to hurry too much.
He gave a happy little snort as Julia swung herself out of the saddle and Jane replied. She led him inside the old barn he shared with the donkey and then stopped suddenly. The professor was sitting comfortably on a truss of hay against one wall with Jane as close as she could get while he rubbed her ears.
‘Well,’ said Julia, letting out a held breath, ‘you could have coughed or something—I had the fright of my life.’
‘Do I frighten you, Julia?’ And then, in quite a different voice, ‘I was on my way back from seeing Nicky and I called in to see if I could give you a lift back—you return on Friday, don’t you? I shall be passing about tea time if that suits you?’
He had got off the hay and was unsaddling Star in a businesslike way.
‘Well, thank you, I’d be glad of a lift, it would help as it would save Father having to drive me in to Salisbury, and tea time would be just right.’ She eyed his elegant clothes. ‘Look—I’ll do this, you’ll get in a mess and that’s a good suit. Has mother asked you to stay for lunch?’