get ready for bed. Her movements got slower and slower; she discovered
numberless small tasks that needed doing before she could turn out the light.
Finally she took a book and went and sat by the fire in Cor's room; he was
sound asleep, but he was company. The clock in her bedroom chimed midnight,
and she put down the book which she hadn't been reading anyway. She wondered
what Julius was doing--Cor had said that all the family would be there--and
friends too--smart, sophisticated women with marvelous hair-dos and couture
dresses. She closed her eyes on tears, then opened them as the telephone
rang just once. She looked at Cor as she lifted the receiver, but he hadn't
stirred. She said softly "Yes?"
"You stayed up," said the Professor's voice, equally softly.
"A Happy New Year to you, my Damsel in Green."
She smiled at the receiver.
"Oh, thank you. And I hope you have a wonderful year."
"Don't worry--I shall. Don't go away, here are the others."
They spoke to her in turn, Dimphena and Karel and Franz and last of all
Beatrix, very sleepy, and after her, the Professor again.
"Now go to bed," he said.
"Goodnight."
She did as he had said, and lay awake for quite a while wondering why he had
telephoned. It would be lovely to think that he had missed her, but common
sense urged her to discard this delightful idea. The Dutch made a lot of New
Year--probably he had telephoned the Stephens and Milly too. She went to
sleep telling herself that this was more than likely, and in the morning was
bitterly disappointed discover that this was exactly what he had done.
There was a letter from one of her friends at St. Athel's in the morning's
post. Amongst a great deal of hospital gossip, the writer informed her that
the grapevine had it that dear George was to be offered Cas: when Sister left
in March, although, continued the writer, George had probably got her future
nicely settled for herself;
that same grapevine having also supplied her friend with the news that
Professor Eyffert was a bachelor, and a very eligible one. This remark was
embellished with a maximum of asterisks, question marks and ex cia mat ions
and accompanied by a plea for inside information.
Georgina read it through to the end. Three months earlier, she would have
been overjoyed about Cas--now it really didn't seem to matter, although she
knew already that she would accept the post if it were offered; indeed, she
had little choice if she wanted to pave the way to a successful career. She
tore the letter up into small pieces, and went to blanket-bath Cor.
The bad weather continued for several days, but now that Mr. Coppin had
started Cor's lessons again, Georgina was able to get out each morning.
Robby ambled along with her getting very wet so that it took her several
minutes to dry him when they got back home; but he was excellent company and
worth the trouble. Mr. Sawbridge came again, expressed satisfaction at his
handiwork and ordered gentle exercises, and spoke, with professional caution,
of the traction coming down in four weeks--a piece of news heralded with
delight by Cor and shared by Georgina, although her pleasure was tempered
with dismay. Four weeks would go quickly; by the time the Professor was back
from Holland, it would be three weeks, and in those three weeks she couldn't
hope to see him every day. Mr. Sawbridge stayed to luncheon too, during
which he substantiated the news from the grapevine.
"A splendid opportunity for you, George," he observed.
"Do you intend to make Casualty your career?"
She looked at her plate.
"Yes, I suppose so," she replied without enthusiasm, and caught his sharp
glance.
"It--it was a surprise," she said lamely.
"I can't quite believe it. I know very lucky."
"Lucky?" he said surprisingly.
"Only if that is what you want."
She didn't answer that, and after a moment he began to talk about
Bergenstijn. It seemed that he had been on holiday there and had a fondness
for it.
Contrary to her expectations, the week went quickly, although the last day
dragged, partly due to the fact that Cor had wakened earlier than usual and
had insisted on starting day at least an hour earlier than was his wont, so
that by the time the travellers were expected, he was already tired and
slightly peevish. Matters got worse as time passed and they didn't arrive;
it was in vain that Georgina pointed out that the weather was bad enough to
delay the plane, and even if it had arrived on time, the Professor wasn't
likely to tear through the country at seventy miles an hour in that same
weather. As if to add strength to her argument, the rain drummed against the
window panes, and as if that wasn't enough there was a lightning flash,
followed by a crashing roll of thunder that sent the three animals under the
bed and changed Cor's ill-humour to a fright he strove to hide. Georgina,
who disliked storms herself, drew her chair nearer to the bed and was
relieved when Stephens came in and asked in a fatherly fashion if there was
anything they wanted and remarked in his calm, rather flat voice that in his
opinion the storm, although violent, would soon pass. Doubtless, the
travellers would be delayed, and in the meantime, should they need him, he
would be close at hand. He went quietly away again, leaving an aura of
secure comfort behind him.
"Suppose I tell you a story?" asked Georgina. She settled on the bed beside
her patient and put an arm round his thin shoulders, and was soon deep in the
improbable adventures of a dog, a cat and a donkey. So deep, in fact, that
they barely heard the wind and the rain, or the occasional bellowing of the
thunder; it was Robby, coming out from under the bed and making for the door,
which caused them to look round.
Beatrix came in first and hurled herself at them, with Dimphena and Franz
close behind, Georgina was hugged and embraced, and when Karel appeared,
kissed too, very heartily--he still had an arm around her when the Professor
walked in. His glance flickered over them both, then he smiled and said,
"Hallo there. Nurse, Did you think we were never coming?" and not waiting
for an answer, went over to Cor's bed, where he stayed for ten minutes or
more before going away again, having first admonished everyone to be ready
for dinner within half an hour. His remark reminded Georgina that Cor should
have his supper too, and after promising to return before he was put to bed,
the rest of them went away too, leaving her to calm down a very excited small
boy.
Dinner was gay, with everyone bent on telling Georgina everything that had
happened in the past fourteen days in the shortest possible time--everyone,
that was, but the Professor, who, although he joined in the talk, was
thoughtful. Georgina peeped at him once or twice, and each time found his
eyes fixed steadily on her, so that she was unable to prevent herself from
putting up a questing hand to make sure that her cap was sitting at its
proper angle upon her head. It was, and she frowned a little--surely
her
hair wasn't coming down? She waited a minute, then put her hand up again, to
arrest it in mid-air when he said softly, "Not a hair out of place. Miss
Rodman." She flushed and avoided his eye until the end of the meal when he
asked Stephens to take his coffee to his study, and said, as they crossed the
hall, "Perhaps you will be good enough to come and see me when you have had
coffee. Miss Rodman."
He was standing with his back to the fire when she went in. He waved a hand
towards a chair drawn up to its warmth and said, "Sit down, won't you? Did
you find it very tedious, alone with Cor?"
She looked shocked.
"Good gracious, no. We haven't had a dull minute.
Cor and I. And even if I had found it tedious, it's my job. "
He stared at her from under lowered lids.
"You're frank. And is that how you regard your stay here--as a job?"
"Oh no. You see, I'm very fond of Cor and Beatrix--and Franz and Dimphena..."
"You forget Karel."
"Karel? Oh, yes. They're like brothers and sisters."
She saw the look on his face, a look she had never seen before.
"Is that how you regard them?" he wanted to know.
She met his bright gaze.
"I'm sorry. Professor. I didn't mean to be impertinent--my wretched
tongue!" She got to her feet.
"Please will you forget that I said that?"
He said coolly, "No. Why should I? I don't find it impertinent, merely
illuminating." He smiled at her and she caught her breath.
"Now sit down again and tell me about Cor."
She sat, regained her composure and answered his questions with her usual
calm directness. When she had finished, he said:
"About a month. Old Sawbones thinks. He won't commit himself, of course."
He left the fire and sat down opposite her.
"He tells me that you are to be offered a Sister's post.
Casualty, I presume. You're pleased? "
She looked down at her hands, folded tidily in her lap.
"Yes," she said baldly.
"There is something else you would rather do with your life perhaps?"
She examined her nails--well shaped pink nails on her capable hands.
"I expect we would all rather do something else..." she remembered to whom
she was speaking, and said in a flurry, "Of course I'm delighted--it's a
wonderful opportunity." She got up for the second time.
"If there's nothing further, Professor, I told Cor I'd be up soon after
dinner."
He got up too.
"Thank you for taking care of him while we were away. I wouldn't have left
him with anyone else. You took your days off?"
She was at the door.
"Well, no..." and stood still waiting for his cool annoyance.
"I imagined you didn't," was all he said.
"That means three days, does it not? Supposing you go the day after
tomorrow?"
He had followed her to the door and opened it for her, and then took his hand
from it and caught her by the shoulder and kissed her without haste. When he
finally let her go, she stared at him, speechless. She still hadn't found
her tongue when he remarked, to puzzle her for the rest of a wakeful night:
"Your uniform isn't enough." He sounded resigned.
She didn't see him until the following evening, when he was as politely
friendly as Mr. Sawbridge might have been. And the next day she went home.
She took the Mini, driving rather recklessly through the grey, wet
countryside. The cottage was snug and bright with winter flowers; the little
hall smelled of furniture polish and an occasional whiff of something savoury
in the kitchen. She was welcomed with delight and love by the two old
ladies. She looked at their kind, wise faces, and longed to pour out her
heart to them; instead, she hugged them extravagantly and went out to the car
to fetch her case. There was a wildly outsize box of chocolates from Holland
too, and an armful of spring flowers Legg had wordlessly handed to her--and a
box she didn't remember putting in the car. She carried it indoors, and they
opened it in the little sitting room, in front of the fire. There were two
bottles of claret inside and a letter to Aunt Polly, addressed to her in the
Professor's crabbed scribble. Georgina gave it to her aunt without comment
and went to take off her coat. When she got back, Mrs. Mogg had brought in
the coffee and there was no sign of the letter, nor did Aunt Polly mention it.
There was a great deal to talk about anyway-among them the rumour that she
might get a Sister's post sooner than she had expected. She did her best to
be enthusiastic about this, harping at length about the bigger salary and not
having to be on duty until eight o'clock each morning, but somehow the
conversation got around to Dalmers Place, and she found herself relating all
the small day-to-day incidents with an increasing enthusiasm and pleasure;
when at length she paused. Aunt Polly said, "You're going to find hospital
life very different from Dalmers Place. Three months is a long time..." and
then without any warning at all,
"Did Professor Eyffert say anything to you about his getting married, dear?"
Georgina got up and went to the window and straightened a curtain that needed
nothing done to it at all, "Yes, he did. But that was all--I mean, he didn't
say who to, or when. He--he said it would be best for the children. He told
me once that he was lonely."
She wandered back and sat down by the fire again, thinking of him eating his
breakfast alone in an untidy flurry of letters and newspapers. Presumably
his wife would keep him company. She hoped so.
"An Englishwoman?" hazarded her aunt gently.
"Not, I hope, one of those Sinding girls."
"I don't think so. They've been over several times, but..." she left the
sentence unfinished. If he was in love with one of them, he had concealed it
very effectively, and as there was no point in doing that, it couldn't be
them.
"There's someone called Madame LeFabre in Holland, I suppose. The children
have mentioned her. Julius goes to Holland frequently."
She hadn't noticed that she had called him Julius, and her aunt said nothing.
The next day the weather cleared a little, and Georgina, in old jeans and
still older sweater, went down the garden to the potato clamp. She had her
basket of potatoes, and was picking sprouts, when Mrs. Mogg called from the
back door. Georgina got up off her knees and shouted:
"Oh, Moggy, is it important?"
"Not for me, it's not," said the worthy Mrs. Mogg. It's the gentleman from
Dalmers Place. "
Georgina stood where she was. Her first thought was of pure joy, her second
of rage that he should come unheralded when she was looking just about as
unattractive as possible. Perhaps if she could sneak in quietly, she could
run upstairs and put on a dress. She picked up her basket and tore down the
narrow brick path. Karel was standing at the back door, waiting for her.
She checked her headlong flight when she saw him, and composed her face into
a welcoming smile. How silly of her to have imagined for one minute that it
was Julius who had called!
She said gaily, "Hallo, Karel. H
ow nice to see you," and he caught hold of
her basket, dropped a light kiss on her check, and said "Yes, isn't it?" and
gave her a searching look, so that she looked away quickly and busied herself
kicking off her rubber boots.
"Dressed to kill, aren't you?" he observed cheerfully, as she led the way
indoors.
She sketched a brief curtsy.
"Careful, Karel, compliments like that go to my head. Come and see Aunt
Polly and I'll get coffee."
He was going back to Cambridge the next day;
without quite knowing how it had happened, she found herself changing into a
tweed suit and a rather dashing little hat, preparatory to going out to lunch
with him. They went to the Grapevine at Cavendish, where they ate, among
other things, lobster Thermidor. Over the rum omelette she chose to follow
it, she said with an unconscious wistfulness:
"I shall never get used to eating hospital food again. This sort of thing--'
she waved an expressive hand over the table--'and the gorgeous meals at
Dalmers Place...1 used to think how wonderful it would be if someone took me
to some place where I could order what I liked, now I've had three months of
that kind of living, and it's spoilt me for sausages and roast lamb."
Betty Neels - Damsel In Green.txt Page 16