by Betty Neels
‘I don’t know, Mother. The off duty is made out a week or two at a time, and it has to be altered from time to time. I’ll certainly do my best.’
Christmas was still five weeks or more away; anything could happen...
The wedding was to be at eleven o’clock in the morning. A fellow doctor had come over from a neighbouring village to keep an eye on the practice until the evening, and Mrs Pratt had arranged luncheon for the few friends who had been invited. Tombs, to his tremendous delight, was to give the bride away, and Miss Tremble, who had played the organ for more years than anyone could remember, had insisted on playing for the service.
Claudia, in the grey suit she had had for rather longer than she would have wished, perched a velvet beret on her bright hair and took herself off to the church, leaving her mother and Tombs to follow in George’s car.
The handful of friends who had been invited were completely swallowed up by the villagers, who had turned out to a man and woman to see the doctor they respected and liked marry Mrs Ramsay. Claudia, sitting in the front pew greeting those she knew, turned round, craning her neck to see who was there. Almost everyone, except of course Mr and Mrs Ramsay, but they wouldn’t have been welcome anyway. She turned round again and looked at George’s upright elderly back, and then turned her head once more, this time with everyone else, to watch her mother coming down the aisle, her hand on Tombs’s arm.
It was a short, simple service, but what it lacked in grandeur it made up for in warmth and friendliness as the congregation surged down the aisle after the happy pair. Claudia, hemmed in by well-wishers and friends she hadn’t seen for some time, looked around her as she waited patiently to leave the church.
At the back of the church Mr Tait-Bullen, towering over those around him, was looking at her. He wasn’t smiling, but that didn’t prevent her from feeling pleasure at the sight of him. She made her way towards him and held out a hand.
‘Hello, how nice to see you here. Did George invite you?’
He took her hand, shook it briskly and gave it back to her. ‘I invited myself. I saw the notice in the Telegraph and, since I am on my way to Bristol, George kindly suggested that I might like to come to the church.’
They were outside now, everyone getting into cars or walking back to the doctor’s house.
‘You’re coming to the house?’
‘Yes.’ Without asking her, he opened the car door and popped her in. ‘Are you still at the Colonel’s house? George said something about you leaving...’
He didn’t sound very interested, so all she said was, ‘Yes, we have all left.’
‘And you?’
‘Oh, I’ve got a job at Southampton. I’m going back this afternoon.’
They had reached the doctor’s house, and Mr Tait-Bullen parked the car, opened her door and followed her inside. They were separated almost at once by other guests, and, feeling let down that he had evinced so little interest in her, Claudia wormed her way to where her mother and George were standing.
She kissed them both. ‘I know you’re going to be happy,’ she told them. ‘And this is a lovely wedding. Everyone here wants you to be happy, too.’
Her mother beamed at her. ‘Darling, it’s such a wonderful day. Must you go back so soon?’
‘I’m afraid so. I’m on duty at three o’clock. I must get to Romsey in time to catch the bus, it goes at a quarter past the hour. Could Tombs take me?’
‘Of course he can. And if he can’t there are plenty of people here who wouldn’t mind running you over to Romsey.’ Her mother frowned. ‘I meant to have fixed something up, but there was so much to do and think about...’
‘Don’t worry, Mother. And it will be a pity to take Tombs away. He’s being so useful here. I’ll get Tom Hicks from the garage to run me over.’
It was ten minutes or so later when she went back to the buffet with the plate of canapés she had been handing round, that she found Mr Tait-Bullen beside her. He took the plate from her, put it back on the table and handed her a glass of champagne. He said pleasantly, ‘I’ll drive you to Southampton. When do you want to leave?’
‘But you’re not going to Southampton. You’re going to Bristol. You said so.’
‘Indeed I am, but I have ample time to take you back on my way. At what time do you need to leave here?’
‘I’m on duty at three o’clock. I was going to catch a bus from Romsey. There’s really no need—it’s very kind of you, but you’ll miss the rest of the reception.’
Looking at him, she could see that he was taking no notice of what she was saying. He said now, ‘If we leave at half past one that should give us ample time. Presumably you will need time to get ready for whatever job you are in.’
‘I’m a general assistant at a geriatric hospital. It’s near the docks.’
She spoke defiantly, as though she expected him to argue with her, but all he said was, ‘You’ll have to guide me. Do you like your work?’
‘Yes. I’ve only been there for a short while. It’s—it’s very interesting.’
The vicar joined them then, and presently she excused herself and went to talk to Mr Potter, who asked her worriedly if she was managing.
‘I hear you have work at Southampton. Providential, my dear, providential. I have been worried about you and your mother, and can only be thankful that things have turned out so well for you both.’
‘Oh, everything is splendid,’ said Claudia. ‘And Dr Willis has been so kind and thoughtful to all of us.’
‘You have not seen Mr and Mrs Ramsay since they returned to the house?’
‘No, and I don’t want to.’ She patted his arm. ‘We don’t need to worry about them anymore, Mr Potter. We hated leaving the house, but we couldn’t have stayed even if he had suggested it.’
She wandered round the room then, talking to other guests, most of them old friends who had known her for years. But she kept her eye on the clock, and when she saw that it had just struck one, she went in search of her mother and George, wished them goodbye, assured them that Mr Tait-Bullen was driving her back and promised to come again just as soon as she had a free day.
Then she got her case and went into the hall. Tombs was there, talking to Mr Tait-Bullen as he shrugged himself into his coat.
‘Ah, there you are, Miss Claudia. I was just saying you’d be here dead on time, and so you are.’
‘Tombs, it’s been a lovely wedding, and I’m sure you did a great deal to make it so. I’ll be back when I get a day off. Take care of yourself, won’t you? I’ve seen Mrs Pratt and Jennie.’
‘Bless you, miss,’ said Tombs, and opened the door for them. ‘A safe journey.’
Claudia settled herself in the comfortable seat. ‘Do you know how to get onto the Romsey road? Through the village and keep straight on, then turn left at the crossroads. Then it’s a right-hand fork. The roads are narrow.’
He said thank you so meekly that she was emboldened to say chattily, ‘We’re so glad that George gave Tombs a job. He’d been with my great-uncle for years and years. I don’t suppose there are many like him...’
Mr Tait-Bullen, not a man for small talk, gave a grunt. And, since he had nothing to say, Claudia observed, ‘Are you one of those people who don’t like to talk while they are driving? I dare say it takes quite a lot of concentration, especially in a car like this one.’
Mr Tait-Bullen, whose work demanded powers of concentration well beyond the average, gave another grunt.
Claudia, not one to give up easily, took a look at his profile. It looked severe. ‘Oh, well, if you don’t want to talk...’ She turned her head to look out of the window. ‘Probably you’re tired.’
‘No, I am not in the least tired. Claudia, tell me your off duty for next week...’
‘Whatever for?’ When he didn’t answer, she said,
‘Oh, well...’ and told him. ‘But it gets changed at the last minute very often. There don’t seem to be enough staff...’
‘It is not, I believe, the most popular form of nursing.’
‘Oh, I can quite see that, and I’m not even a nurse.’
‘You say that you will be free at three o’clock on Friday? I shall call for you shortly after that and we will spend the rest of the day together.’
‘Oh, will we? Have I been asked?’
‘Ah, forgive me. I presumed that you would like to see me again, just as I would like to see you.’
‘Well!’ exclaimed Claudia. ‘Whatever next...?’
‘Just so. That is what I wish to find out.’
A remark which needed to be thought about and still remained puzzling.
‘Well, thank you,’ said Claudia, deciding to ignore his remark for the moment. ‘But don’t be annoyed if my off duty’s been changed.’
‘I don’t think you need worry about that.’
They were threading their way through the outskirts of Southampton. ‘Tell me where I should turn off?’ he said.
It was half past two when he stopped before the hospital entrance. He got out to open her door and walked with her into the entrance hall. He handed her case over, and when she put out a hand, shook it briefly.
‘Thank you for the lift.’ She smiled up at him and he smiled in return, a slow, gentle smile so that he looked quite different from the rather silent, reserved man she had thought him to be. And the smile warmed her loneliness, making the future full of unexpected hope. It wasn’t until then that she realised how much she needed a friend.
When she had gone, Mr Tait-Bullen strolled over to the old-fashioned porter’s lodge. He was there for several minutes, until its elderly occupant led him away down a long, dreary corridor, knocked on a door and ushered him inside.
Claudia didn’t exactly forget him for the rest of the day; he was there at the back of her mind, almost smothered in her non-stop chores. The old ladies were such a cruel contrast to the pleasures of the morning she could have wept with pity for them. Not that weeping would have helped in any way. Cups of tea, endless trundles to the loo, mopping up after the inevitable accidents, making beds and the back-breaking task of getting elderly frail bodies back into bed... By ten o’clock, when she went off duty, her mother’s wedding seemed part of a dream.
She fell into bed and was instantly asleep. In the morning, after a quick shower, she got into the brown dress and went down to her breakfast, her spirits fully restored. And they stayed that way all day, despite the hundred and one setbacks and Sister’s sharp tongue. Claudia forgave her that, for coping with forty old ladies, keeping them clean and tidy and well fed, was no easy task. Claudia, putting clean sheets on a bed for the umpteenth time, considered Sister a splendid woman, even if she had no time to waste on being friendly.
All the same, it was difficult not to feel hard done by when that lady told her that her Friday off duty would be altered; she was to go on the afternoon shift instead of the morning. She wouldn’t be able to go out with Mr Tait-Bullen after all, and there was no way of letting him know. She hoped that he wouldn’t be too annoyed about it; not to annoy him was suddenly important. Not that it mattered anymore. He would go away and not bother to see her again. That thought left her feeling sad.
She was going off duty the next day when Sister called her into the office.
‘You’ll take your original off duty on Friday.’ She sounded cross. ‘There will be an extra nurse here for a couple of days, so there will be no need for you to change.’
‘I shall be free at three o’clock on Friday?’ asked Claudia, just to make sure.
‘I’ve just said so, haven’t I? You young girls are all alike, never listening to a word that is said to them.’
Claudia begged her pardon in a suitably humble voice, and once out of the office did a few dance steps along the corridor. Maybe the future wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.
Friday dawned wet and cold. Claudia, deep in her morning chores, found the time to look out of the windows in the hope that the weather would improve. It did no such thing. Indeed a nasty wind had sprung up. It would have to be the grey suit and a raincoat—both suitable for the conditions out of doors, but hardly likely to inspire Mr Tait-Bullen to take her anywhere fashionable for tea.
She thought that three o’clock would never come, and even if it did, would she get off duty punctually? She did, hurrying through the hospital to her room, in a panic that she would be called back at the last moment.
Once there, she didn’t waste a second—tearing out of the brown uniform, racing to the shower room before someone else got there, dressing with the speed of light. He had said shortly after three o’clock, but if she didn’t show up within fifteen minutes of that time she hardly hoped that he would wait much longer. It was already five minutes over time as she gained the entrance hall, out of breath, and with her hair bundled up underneath the velvet beret. There had been no time to do more than powder her nose and put on some lipstick. She didn’t look her best, she worried. He would take one look at her and decide that he was wasting his time...
Mr Tait-Bullen, leaning his length against a marble bust of a bewhiskered Victorian dignitary, entertained no such thought. He watched her slither to a dignified walk as she crossed the hall and reflected that she was the most beautiful girl that he had ever set eyes on. Even in the unbecoming garment in which she was swathed. But then she would look mouth-watering in a tablecloth with a hole cut for her head.
None of these interesting thoughts showed on his face as he went to meet her.
‘Hello,’ said Claudia, her smile so enchanting that he had difficulty in keeping his hands to himself. ‘I haven’t kept you waiting? I was so afraid that you might think I wasn’t coming.’ She plucked a bright lock of hair which had escaped her brush and tucked it behind an ear. ‘I haven’t done my hair properly.’ She searched his calm face. ‘I’m not dressed up either. You don’t mind?’
‘No, I don’t mind. You look very nice.’
A tepid compliment which satisfied her; he had smiled at her when he had made it, which gave her a comfortable feeling that he had meant exactly what he had said.
‘Shall we have tea first? I thought we might drive into the country for dinner later.’
‘That would be lovely. Nowhere grand—I’m not dressed for it. I mean, I didn’t know if we would be going out this evening—I was in a hurry so’s not to miss you...’ She paused, aware that she was babbling.
He said gently, ‘There’s a nice quiet hotel at Wickham. But tea first.’
He drove into the heart of Southampton and took her to a small quiet tea room tucked away in a side road where he was able to park the car. The place was half full, warm and pleasantly lighted, and they sat down at a table in the window curtained against the gathering dark of the late afternoon.
They ate hot buttered teacakes, and Claudia, urged to do so, sampled the creamy confections the waitress brought, and all the while Mr Tait-Bullen kept up an undemanding flow of small talk, calculated to put her at her ease so that presently, warm and nicely full, she answered his carefully put questions with less caution than she might have done.
Yes, it was hard work, she admitted, but the other girls were friendly and most of the old ladies were dears. ‘Although there are one or two who are a bit difficult...’
‘In what way?’
‘Oh, they don’t mean to be. They get cross, but I’d get cross if I had to sit in a chair because I couldn’t do anything for myself. You see, they don’t seem to have anyone to look after them—if they had daughters or someone, or sons or husbands who could look after them...’
‘That might be difficult in a household with children, or where everyone goes out to work.’
‘Yes, I know.
Only it would be nice.’
Her hand was lying on the table, and he saw that it was rough and rather red. He said lightly, ‘I dare say you have a lot of mopping up to do.’
‘Oh, yes. All the time.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘It’s not the cool hand on the brow kind of work—more like a charwoman—plastic pinnies and mops and buckets.’
‘You intend to stay there?’
‘When I’ve saved up enough money I shall train for something...’ She saw his raised eyebrows. ‘Well, I don’t know what yet.’ She paused. ‘I’m talking too much. Will you tell me about you?’
‘I live and work in London. I have a house there, and Cork, who has been with me for a long time, looks after me. I have patients in several hospitals and hold clinics in each of them. I have a private practice, and I operate twice a week—sometimes three times. I travel round the country from time to time if I’m wanted for a consultation or to operate.’
‘You have lots of friends?’
‘I have a few old friends and acquaintances, yes. I’m not married, Claudia.’
She went pink. ‘I should have asked you that ages ago, shouldn’t I? I did want to, but I—well, I don’t know you well enough...’
‘We must do something about that. At what time do you have to be back?’ And when she told him, he said, ‘Good, we’ll drive to Evershot for dinner. It’s a pleasant drive, even in the dark, and we have no need to hurry.’
At her uncertain look, he added, ‘Don’t worry, it’s a quite small hotel. At this time of the year it will be half empty, and it isn’t somewhere where one needs to dress up.’
They went back to the car then, and he drove through the heavy evening traffic until they had left the city behind, taking the secondary roads through the New Forest. Mr Tait-Bullen drove slowly, stopping from time to time to allow the ponies to cross the road ahead of him, and a badger to amble along, refusing to be hurried. He drove for the most part in silence, an easy, undemanding silence in which there was no need to talk for the sake of uttering.