by Betty Neels
‘Yes, love. Swore me to secrecy, he did, bless him. It was to be a nice surprise for you. He’s told you, then?’ ‘Two days ago. Rosie, why did he do it?’ She heard a rich chuckle. ‘You ask him that, Miss Tilly!’ ‘Well, I will. He’s driving me down to his parents’ home tomorrow morning—his sister has invited me. I’ll come home next week—at least, I will if James hasn’t moved in.’ There was silence at the other end and she said quite sharply: ‘Rosie, did you hear me?’
‘Yes, love. I’ll have a nice meal ready for you. Tinker will be ever so glad to see you.’
The ward had settled down quite well. The ladies who were to go home were up and dressed and enjoying a good gossip about their unfortunate experience and the rest of the patients were well enough to listen avidly. Clotilde, going about her day’s work, paused to listen and sympathise and give advice, before leading Mr Pratt, still a bit out of his depth, up and down the ward, waiting patiently, which took a while, as he examined charts, read notes and made great play with his stethoscope. It was after lunch, when the ward was quiet and everyone had been settled in beds or on chairs to rest, and she was alone with a student nurse, as James came in. He walked quite quietly, not disturbing the patients, whispered something to the nurse and swept Clotilde into her office.
‘I was about to tell you why circumstances are in my favour,’ he said without preamble, popping her into her chair and sitting down on the desk in front of her. He picked up her hand and held it gently, stroking her wrist with his thumb. ‘Most of them are unimportant, the one that matters is that at last you’ve realised that you’re in love with me. It took a long time, didn’t it, darling heart? I was beginning to fear I was to be cast in the role of an old friend for the rest of our lives.’
She looked at him shyly. ‘How ever did you know?’
‘I think I understand you better than you do yourself. Besides, I’ve loved you for a long time now—long before Bruce appeared on the scene. Being in love with someone makes one very perceptive.’
He stood up and plucked her out of her chair and pulled her into his arms. His kiss was more than satisfactory, it was a pity that the phone rang, and since it went on ringing, Clotilde disentangled herself and answered it.
It was for James. She handed him the phone and he kept an arm round her while he listened. ‘I’ll be over at once. You did quite right to tell me.’ He put the phone down. ‘Young Pratt, worried about a bronchiectasis on Men’s Medical. My darling, I would like above all things to take you out for a meal this evening. But I’ve got several private patients to see between six and eight o’clock and a meeting at nine o’clock.’ He kissed her hard. ‘Don’t be late in the morning or I shall come and fetch you!’
After he’d gone, Clotilde sat down at her desk, staring dreamily at the wall opposite her. There were so many questions to ask him and she hadn’t remembered one of them, but it really didn’t matter.
She was up early, taking great pains with her face and hair, making a cup of tea in the little pantry on the Sister’s floor and then going down to the entrance. It was barely eight o’clock, but James was there. He settled her beside him, kissed her briefly, told her she looked beautiful and turned the Bentley’s nose westward. There wasn’t too much traffic. They were free of the suburbs and on the M3, sitting in a companionable silence until James said: ‘Breakfast, darling. We’ll stop at the next Happy Eater or service station unless we’re lucky enough to find something open.’
They were—a small wayside hotel with a large notice in the window offering breakfast. They ate their way through bacon and eggs and toast and marmalade and emptied the coffee pot, sitting in a pleasant little room with an open fire. They didn’t talk much; it was just as though they were waiting for the right moment to begin, just being with each other was enough for the time being, thought Clotilde contentedly, and smiled at James across the table.
‘I want to say so much, but I don’t know where to start,’ she told him, ‘and somehow the motorway doesn’t seem the right place, so I don’t want to start.’
He smiled tenderly at her. ‘We’ll find the right place,’ he assured her.
They took the A30 presently, the rather bleak road from Salisbury until they reached the outskirts of Shaftesbury. It had been snowing, and the view of white fields below and around the town was beautiful. James drove slowly into the narrow busy High Street, then eased the car into a narrower lane to the left. There were a handful of cottages on one side and at the end large wooden gates open. He drove through them and followed a drive round the back of an imposing Regency house, to stop on the sweep before its front door. He opened her door and took her arm. ‘Home,’ he said. ‘But before we go in come and see the view.’
There was a low wall beyond a stretch of lawn, and a heavy wrought iron door in it. He didn’t open it, but stood looking through it at the magnificent sweep of land below them. ‘This is the right place,’ he said. ‘No phone, no one to interrupt, just the two of us, my dearest darling heart.’ He caught her close, looking down at her happy face and then kissing it, taking his time. ‘Will you marry me, my love? Just as soon as we can arrange it. So much time wasted… We’ ll have to live in London, but we’ ll go to Wendens Ambo each weekend, and drive down here whenever we want a break. The children will like it…’
Clotilde said: ‘I haven’t said I’ll marry you yet, and here we are with a family of lively children!’ Her smile was quite beautiful.
James hugged her so close that her ribs ached. ‘Marry me, my dearest?’ he asked, and his voice was no longer placid.
She reached up to kiss him. ‘There’s nothing else in this world I’d rather do,’ she told him. ‘I can’t think why I didn’t discover that I loved you; three solid years of seeing you twice a week. I’m sorry I’ve wasted so much of your time,’ she said meekly, ‘waiting for me…’
‘I’ll see that you make up for it. Dear heart…’ James paused and turned his head towards the house behind them. Even at this distance they could hear voices and dogs barking. The front door was flung wide and several people came on to the porch while the dogs came tearing across the lawn.
‘Come and meet the family,’ invited James, and put a great arm around her shoulders. It would be there, metaphorically speaking, cherishing her for the rest of their lives, thought Clotilde, walking beside him towards the house.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5022-6
ONCE FOR ALL TIME
Copyright © 1984 by Betty Neels.
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