by Betty Neels
CHAPTER FOUR
IT WAS DURING the next morning, while George Steele was doing a round, that Tabitha learned that Marius would be operating on four days that week, and when she enquired why, George mentioned that Mr van Beek was due to go on a short lecture tour in five days’time and intended to clear as much of the waiting list as he could before he went.
‘Oh,’ said Tabitha, ‘he’s not coming back! Will you be able to manage on your own, George?’
She didn’t really care in the least if George could manage or not, but she had to say something—anything, to take her mind off the fact that Marius was going away and she wouldn’t see him.
‘Of course he’s not going,’ said George patiently. ‘Only for a week—Sweden, I believe—it was arranged long before he heard from Mr Raynard. He’ll come back and take over again until the Old Man’s on his feet.’
The Old Man himself substantiated George’s statement himself when Tabitha paid him her morning visit. He was sitting up in bed, surrounded by an untidy welter of case notes, screwed-up pieces of paper, several lists and a calendar. He thrust an impatient arm out as she approached the bed and shot most of the clutter on to the floor.
‘Tut-tut,’ said Tabitha severely, ‘you’re by far the untidiest patient we’ve ever had.’ She picked everything up, sorted it neatly and laid the little pile back on the bed.
He glowered at her. ‘Stuff,’ he tapped the lists with an impatient finger. ‘I want to get these sorted out for Marius—you’ve a busy week ahead of you, my girl, so make up your mind to that.’
Tabitha tucked a pillow in exactly where he needed it most. ‘I don’t mind,’ she said sunnily, and gave him a broad smile because Marius was coming back and so the day had turned into something wonderful; a week would go quickly enough, and however hard Mr Raynard tried, he wasn’t going to be fit to return to work for quite a while yet.
Mr Raynard gave her a suspicious look. ‘What have you got to look so pleased about?’ he demanded. ‘Had a weekend in Paris?’
Before Tabitha could reply to this pleasantry, Marius spoke from the door.
‘Not Paris, or for that matter, a weekend. Just a very delightful day swimming and doing nothing. We enjoyed ourselves.’ He smiled and gave her a friendly nod and then ignored her, going over to the bed to pick up the lists scattered upon it. He cast his eye over the first of them and asked: ‘Which days shall you want me to operate? I’d rather like to be free on Thursday.’ He looked at Tabitha as he spoke. ‘Sister?’
‘That’s fine,’ she said quickly. She had a day off herself on Thursday. She stood silently, wondering how he was going to spend his day. Mr Raynard did more than wonder; he asked: ‘Got plans, eh? What are you going to do?’
‘That is something I shall leave my companion to decide,’ said Mr van Beek smoothly, and gave Tabitha the ghost of a smile. She went away presently, a prey to chaotic thoughts. Could he possibly be going to ask her out again—he could have found out that she was free on Thursday easily enough; the off duty list was in the office. Even as she savoured this delectable idea, her common sense told her that it was extremely unlikely. She went into the office and stared at her face in the mirror on the wall.
‘What a fool you are,’ she chided her reflection. All the same, she decided to buy the bikini that very day; if she missed dinner she would have time enough.
She got back to work with a bare minute to spare to find Marius in the office, sitting at her desk. As she went in he got to his feet, remarking idly: ‘What a lot of housekeeping you appear to do—doesn’t it bore you?’
She took the sewing book, the repair book and the request for repair book from his hand. A little breathless, she stammered: ‘No—not at all—at least…’
He didn’t allow her to finish. ‘You’ve been shopping?’
She went faintly pink, although she kept her voice matter-of-fact enough.
‘Yes. On theatre days I always have an evening, you see, and the shops are shut by the time I get away.’
He nodded and then pointed out. ‘But you have days off, don’t you? Surely you could shop then?’
She wasn’t going to tell him that she spent those, or the greater part of them, helping Meg to give the flat a weekly clean. Meg wasn’t old, but neither was she all that young any more. Without the subject being mentioned between them, Tabitha had gradually taken over the heavier jobs, which weren’t all that arduous in the little flat, but they took time, and when they were finished she usually took Meg out for a run in the car. Her days off weren’t exciting, nor were they wholly her own.
Marius was at the door. ‘Nice of you not to make a fuss about Thursday,’ and when she lifted her nondescript brows in surprise, he went on: ‘Oh, you could have done, you know. Not enough staff—altering the off duty, laundry not back—I can think of a dozen good reasons why you should object if you wish.’
Tabitha examined the laundry book in her hand with great care. ‘But I don’t object,’ she stated calmly—far more calmly than her heart was beating. ‘As it happens it’s most convenient, as I have the day off myself.’
Marius put his hands in his pockets. He said suavely: ‘Yes—I know. I looked at the list. What do you think of Knotty?’
The change of subject was so abrupt that she took a few seconds to adjust her thoughts. ‘He’s doing very nicely. There’s still a little discharge around the stitches, but he has almost no pain, and begs for crutches.’
Marius took his hands out of his pockets and opened the door.
‘Yes, he’s mad keen to get on his feet again. I should like him X-rayed, this week and—er—Mr Raynard too. Leave a couple of forms out, will you, and ask George to do the necessary.’
He nodded rather vaguely and went out, shutting the door gently behind him, and Tabitha sat down at her desk, still with the books clutched in one hand and the bag containing the new bikini in the other. She had been greatly daring telling him about her day off, and he had known all the time. If he had wanted to take her out, he had certainly had the opportunity to say so. But he hadn’t. She cast the books on the desk with a thump and flung the bag pettishly into the corner of the little room.
The next two days were busy; the lists were long and heavy, and, she thought wearily at the end of the first day, she might just as well not be there for all she saw of Marius. It was true he paid a visit to the ward after he had finished the list, but then he was his other self—the surgeon intent on his patients and nothing else; there was no trace of the placid, almost lazy man who talked idly about anything under the sun other than his work.
Wednesday was worse, because one of the student nurses had a sore throat and had to go off duty, and an emergency was admitted who died before anything other than emergency treatment could be done for him. Marius and George were operating when the case was admitted and although Marius had come down almost immediately, there was really nothing to be done. Tabitha, consoling the young wife as best she could over cups of tea in her office, was seized with frustration at the futility of their efforts, and when the girl’s mother arrived and she was able to hand her over to someone else’s care, she took the tea tray to the kitchen and washed up the cups and saucers, giving vent to her feelings by crashing and banging the crockery. She had just smashed the teapot into wet tea-leafy fragments all over the floor when Marius came in. She gave him a furious look, said ‘Oh, damn,’ and on the verge of tears, bent to clear up the mess. He bent to help her and after one look at her unhappy face, said gently:
‘I know how you feel. I’m sorry there was nothing to do for that poor chap.’ He shoveled the bits tidily into the bin under the sink and went on with deliberate briskness:
‘That first case—he bled a lot in theatre—I think he’ll be OK, but keep an eye on him, will you? George has all the details.’
He walked to the door and held it open for her and then went to the ward door and opened that for her too. She thought that he was going in with her, but he stayed where he was. He
spoke casually. ‘I shall be seeing Mrs Crawley and Lilith tomorrow—have you any message for them?’
She remembered then that the next day was Thursday. She might have known that he would go and see Lilith, but all the same, disappointment left its bitter taste in her mouth. She had been a fool, indulging in wishful thinking; she wouldn’t do that again. She found her voice and was glad to hear its normality.
‘No, I can’t think of any, thank you. I hope you have a pleasant day.’
She gave him a brief glance and a smile that barely curved her mouth and flew into the ward.
Friday and Saturday followed the exacting pattern laid down by Tuesday and Wednesday. When she spoke to Marius, and that seldom, it was to do with the patients and nothing else, and on the Saturday evening when he came to do a final round after theatre and spent quite some time with Mr Bow and Mr Raynard, she was careful to be busy as far away from him as possible. So she only had herself to blame when from behind Mr Prosser’s curtains she heard Marius enquire from Betts where she was, and when Betts told him, his voice, telling the nurse not to disturb her but to convey his regards. She took so long over Mr Prosser afterwards that that astute gentleman actually fell as silent as she had become; only as at length she pulled the curtains back did he say: ‘Well, Sister, we’ll miss that Dutchman—a nice chap even though ’e’s a foreigner. I ’ear ’e’s coming back.’
Tabitha paused at the foot of the bed. ‘That’s right, Mr Prosser—he’s only going for a week.’
She was conscious, as she spoke, that she had said that as much to comfort herself as to enlighten Mr Prosser. Later on, when she was home, sitting with Podger on her knee, she had to admit to herself that as things were, it could make no difference whatsoever to her whether Marius was away for a week or a year. At least, she corrected herself, it could make no difference to him.
The week was unending, and made worse by a visit from Lilith one evening, ostensibly to bring some fruit from Chidlake—something she had never done before, and it was obvious to Tabitha within a very few minutes that it was more than the fruit which had brought her stepsister. Lilith settled down in her chair, accepted the cup of coffee she was offered and embarked on a meaningless chatter which Tabitha considered a waste of time. But she sat quietly, listening to Lilith’s talk forced as she did so to admit to herself that Lilith looked prettier than ever in a dress that must have cost a great deal of money. Tabitha sighed soundlessly; if only her father had left her provided for… She roused herself to hear Lilith say: ‘It was gorgeous—Marius is such fun even though he’s so much older, and we get on so well, just as though we’d known each other all our lives. He’s sweet with Mummy too, but of course it’s me he comes to see.’ She gave Tabitha a sharp look and Tabitha steeled herself to look serenely back.
‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘he seems very nice. But isn’t he a little old for you, Lilith?’
She shouldn’t have said it. Lilith smiled, a smile very like her mother’s and one which Tabitha dreaded. ‘Sour grapes?’ she queried on a little laugh. ‘Poor Tabby, it must be ghastly to be as plain as you are.’ She studied Tabitha with her head on one side. ‘You’ve done something to your hair and I do believe you’ve got makeup on your eyes—how Mummy will laugh when I tell her! About Marius—I’m going to get him, you know. I’m not quite sure about marrying him, not until I know if he’s got enough money, but he’s marvelous at taking a girl out, and he looks at me—you know,’ she laughed again and murmured cruelly, ‘No, of course you wouldn’t know. He’s very interested in Chidlake too—he thinks I love it, but you just wait, if I do decide to marry him, we’ll never go near the place again. He can work in Wimpole Street or wherever it is.’ She broke off to ask: ‘How much do doctors earn—I mean doctors like Marius?’
A wave of rage swept over Tabitha. Here was Lilith coolly considering marriage with Marius and she didn’t know the difference between a doctor and a surgeon! She said evenly:
‘Mr van Beek is a surgeon—he specializes in orthopaedics. I have no idea what his income might be.’ She couldn’t resist adding: ‘How should I? I’m not in the habit of being on such friendly terms with the consultant staff.’ As she said it she recalled the Sunday she had spent with Marius; that at least was something Lilith didn’t know about. She said slowly: ‘Aren’t you being mercenary, Lilith?’
Her stepsister laughed. ‘What a fool you are, Tabby. Why shouldn’t I have an eye to the main chance? You’re quite soft with your silly out-of-date ideas. I shall marry someone with plenty of money, and if he’s as good-looking as Marius, so much the better.’ She got up and stretched. ‘I’m off—you’re not exactly lively company, are you, Tabby?’
‘Why did you come?’ Tabitha asked with curiosity.
Lilith giggled. ‘Oh, my dear, I should have thought of it, but when Marius was at Chidlake the other evening, we walked round the garden and he remarked that of course we kept you supplied with stuff from the garden. I said yes—I should have been a fool to have said anything else, shouldn’t I? Now I can tell him that I took you a whole basketful and he’ll think that I’m a sweet, thoughtful little sister and fall in love with me just a little bit more.’
Tabitha had nothing to say to this, although she longed to speak her mind, but if she did, there was the danger of Lilith guessing that Marius was something more than just another consultant. She held her tongue until Lilith had got into her sports car and driven away, and then went into the kitchen, where to her own surprise she burst into tears and mumbled the whole sad story into the ample comfort of Meg’s bosom. She felt better when she had told the whole; and sniffed and gulped for a little while before she spoke.
‘Oh, Meg, if only I were just a tiny bit pretty, so that he’d look at me—he looks at me now sometimes, but only because he’s giving me instructions about a patient or something, and even when we had that lovely day together he stared at me as though—as though he were sorry for me.’
‘Rubbish,’ said Meg. ‘Was he the one who told you to change your hair-style?’
Tabitha lifted a puffy face. ‘Yes—so you see…’
‘I see nothing, Miss Tabitha, but he must have looked at you long enough to have seen that a different way of doing your hair would make you look prettier.’
Tabitha sniffed. ‘Dear kind Meg—but don’t you see that he only said that because I’m Lilith’s stepsister and he wanted me to like him so that I’d be on his side? He may have thought that as I was older she would ask me for advice—about him, I mean—so that she’d fall in love with him.’
Meg said rubbish again, rather more forcibly. ‘Miss Lilith’s incapable of falling in love,’ she declared roundly, ‘and Mr van Beek, now he’s not a man to need pushing when he picks himself a wife.’ She handed Tabitha a large snowy handkerchief. ‘Dry your eyes, love, we’ll have a cup of tea and you’ll feel better; that girl always upsets you, drat her.’
She went to put the kettle on and busied herself laying a tray. ‘He’s always been very nice to you, Miss Tabby.’
Tabitha sat down at the table. She said in a stony little voice:
‘He’s nice to everyone, Meg—old and young and plain and ugly, even that awful woman where Mr Bow lived—you see, he’s kind. Sue says he never loses his temper while he’s operating, and he’s not impatient. The other day her new junior brushed against him and he had to re-scrub and re-gown, and he just told her not to worry—anyone else would have torn the poor girl apart. And the men like him.’
‘And you like him too, don’t you, love?’
Tabitha poured tea for the two of them. ‘Yes, Meg.’
Meg sipped her tea. ‘Love’s never wasted, Miss Tabby—there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to it now, but there surely will be.’
Tabitha put down her cup. She had gone a little pale. ‘Meg, how did you know?’ She put her cup down with a little clatter in its saucer. ‘Meg—no one else—he—?’
‘No, Miss Tabby love, but I’ve known you all your life, ha
ven’t I? I can’t help but know. But if you don’t want to talk about it I won’t say another word.’
There was no sign of Marius on Monday morning; it wasn’t theatre day, but there was the out-patients’ clinic at two o’clock; it looked as though George Steele would have to take it as well as examining the new patients who were filling the empty beds. Tabitha had had her coffee and was explaining for the hundredth time to Mr Bow why he couldn’t walk for a few more weeks when she heard the swing of the ward door and then Marius’s unhurried step, so that she had time enough to compose her face into its habitual calm before he reached her side. He said at once:
‘Are you very annoyed with me? I should have been here a great deal earlier.’
She achieved a smile, bade him a polite good morning and went on: ‘I hope your lecture tour was a success.’
‘I believe so—though I don’t feel I’m the one to ask. Is there anything new in?’ He wasn’t looking at her, but smiling at Knotty. Tabitha had turned away to ask Rogers to telephone George Steele, now she looked at Marius and said pleasantly: ‘Yes, sir. Mr Steele will be here in a minute. I expect you would like to talk to Mr Raynard.’
Mr van Beek’s mouth twisted at its corners, but all he said was:
‘To be sure I should. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to do a round, Sister.’
She nodded rather austerely and went away to get Jimmy on to his legs; he had a walking iron now, and a new, lighter plaster, and was going home that afternoon. Naturally enough, he was in tearing high spirits, so that Tabitha became a great deal more cheerful herself; she was chuckling over his grossly exaggerated picture of how he intended to stump down the aisle at his approaching wedding when he interrupted himself to say: ‘Of course you’ll come, won’t you, Sister—and you, sir?’