Damsel in Green

by Betty Neels

  ‘He missed me—look how he missed me!’ cried Cor. The cat patted him gently with a soft paw. ‘He’s Ginger,’ he explained as Georgina put the cat back on the floor and picked up the tabby.

  ‘Of course they missed you,’ she said in a sensible voice, ‘they’re just as fond of you as you are of them. What do you call this one?’

  ‘Toto—Cousin Julius said he was a clown when he was a kitten. He’s shy.’ He stroked its head, and was rewarded by a lick or so from a pink tongue.

  ‘Now the dog,’ said Georgina. The beast, without being told, heaved himself up and laid his forepaws on the bed. The boy and the dog gazed at each other for a long minute. Cor sighed, ‘Dear Robby, it’s nice to be home.’

  Georgina thought she detected tears in his voice. He was more tired than she had supposed. ‘You shall have them up here every day—tomorrow morning,’ she said bracingly. ‘Now it’s time for your supper.’

  These words had their desired effect. It was decided that scrambled eggs on very buttery toast, a cup of chocolate, followed by a plate of Mrs Stephens’ very special homemade almond biscuits, were exactly what he most wanted, and Stephens, murmuring that he would be back within ten minutes, went away, ushering the animals before him.

  It seemed a good moment to ask to see her room, thought Georgina, and did so, suggesting with some diffidence that Franz might like to stay with his brother for a minute or two. With Beatrix hanging on to her hand, and Dimphena on the other side, she crossed the room to a door in its paneled wall. It opened into a room which seemed most magnificent, but also, she realized, as she took a quick look round her, very comfortable. Dimphena walked ahead of her and opened another door, to disclose a bathroom which was as modern as the bedroom was steeped in the past.

  ‘Julius didn’t think you would mind being next door to Cor,’ she said, ‘and you’re to be sure and ask for anything you want.’ She smiled, ‘I do hope you’ll like being here; it’s quiet, although we’re a noisy family. I left school last term, and I thought I should find it very dull, but I was never more mistaken. Julius says I must go to a school in Switzerland after Christmas—just for a year, you know—and I was so excited about it, but now I’ve been home for a month or so, and I don’t think I want to go at all.’

  ‘But you’ll have it all waiting for you when you come home,’ observed Georgina sensibly. ‘And a year goes very quickly.’ She stifled a pang of envy, not for the year in Switzerland, but for the lovely home Dimphena would return to, and turned her attention to Beatrix who was demanding to know if she was going to change her uniform for dinner.

  ‘Well, no,’ she said hesitantly, ‘your guardian particularly asked me to wear my uniform—excepting in my free time, of course.’

  Two pairs of round eyes regarded hers. After a moment Dimphena said:

  ‘It seems funny, but Julius always has good reasons for things.’

  She looked at Beatrix. ‘Doesn’t he, Beatrix?’ The small girl nodded, apparently quite content with the explanation. It seemed that the Professor held the reins very firmly in his household. Georgina turned towards the door. ‘I’d better go back, I think. Cor will need to be lifted up a bit before supper, and then if you’d all say goodnight…’

  When they had all gone and Stephens had brought up the tray, she sat at the little writing table under the window making out her charts in a neat handwriting, pausing from time to time to answer Cor’s remarks. However, he soon dispatched his supper, and she put away her papers and prepared to amuse him for the half hour or so before dinner.

  They were halfway through a game of draughts, which she was losing in a most humiliating manner, when the door opened and the Professor walked in. He answered his small cousin’s shout of welcome in avuncular manner and then turned his attention to Georgina. She had got to her feet when he entered, and said, with almost as much starch in her voice as there was in her apron, ‘Good evening, sir,’ but got no further at the look of amused irritation on his face.

  ‘Hullo, Nurse,’ he answered casually, ‘and for heaven’s sake, don’t jump up and down every time we meet; my nerves won’t stand it!’ He smiled with a friendly warmth that robbed the words of any seriousness and went on, ‘I expect you would like ten minutes or so before dinner. I’ll keep Cor company if I may, and we can go down together when the gong goes.’ He pulled a mahogany stool up to Cor’s bed and sat himself down with an airy wave of dismissal which she was glad to obey. Even if she was forced to eat her dinner in all the severe stiffness of her uniform, she could at least give herself the satisfaction of doing the best she could with her hair and her face.

  Ten minutes later she stood staring at her reflection in the shieldback Sheraton mirror. Despite her pretty starched cap and apron, her carefully made-up face and immaculate hair, she felt herself woefully unsuitably clad for dinner with the family. She took another critical look at her face in the Valentine mirror on a side table; its glass was heart-shaped, as was its ornate silver frame. She thought she had never seen anything as pretty and had just picked it up to admire it more closely when she heard the dinner gong. She hurried into Cor’s room, with the vague feeling that Professor Eyffert was the sort of man who expected punctuality…

  He was indeed, standing by Cor’s bed, with the games table back where it belonged and a book ready for the small patient’s amusement lying on his bedtable. She hurried over to him, saying in a cool little voice, ‘I don’t know at what time Cor goes to bed—but Mr Sawbridge suggested that he should have an early night,’ and was surprised when the Professor meekly closed the book and moved the bedtable to the foot of the bed.

  ‘Then we must do as he says, must we not?’ he remarked placidly. He gave his cousin a hand and wished him goodnight, then stood a little apart while Georgina straightened the bed-covers and turned a pillow.

  ‘Comfy?’ she asked. ‘I’ll put out the light, shall I, and leave the door open—the bell’s under your hand and you may be sure that I shall hear it; I’ve very sharp ears. Anyway, I shall come in and see if you’re asleep when I come upstairs.”

  Cor nodded sleepily and yawned, then opened his eyes very wide.

  ‘I don’t usually kiss ladies,’ he said, ‘but I should like you to kiss me goodnight, George.’

  She squeezed his thin hand on the coverlet and bent and dropped a light kiss on his cheek. ‘Sleep well, dear. Tomorrow we’ll make all sorts of plans.’ She smiled at him delightfully, forgetful of the man watching them. He didn’t speak until they were halfway down the stairs, then, ‘It’s extraordinary, Cornelis hasn’t allowed anyone to kiss him—other than his sisters—since his mother died…’

  Georgina glanced at him shyly. ‘No, it’s not extraordinary at all. Nurses are a bit like mothers—I mean, we do all the things for children that mothers usually do.’

  He said kindly, ‘I daresay you’re quite right. Anyway, I’m very glad of it.’

  They went into the dining-room and had their dinner with a good deal of light-hearted conversation. Georgina was seated at the foot of the Regency table, opposite the Professor, with Beatrix next to her. The little girl ate a simple little supper—she had, Georgina noticed, beautiful manners and was encouraged to join in the talk, and despite the elegance of the table appointments and the dignity of the room, the atmosphere was that of a happy family having supper together without formality, although the menu was hardly that of a simple supper. Prawn cocktails and roast gosling, followed by a chocolate mousse with a great deal of whipped cream, was the kind of meal she would have considered a great treat in the ordinary way—it seemed the Professor and his family were in the habit of living in great comfort. They went back to the drawing-room for their coffee, and Beatrix climbed on to her guardian’s knee and yawned into his waistcoat until he said, ‘Bed for you, my poppet.’

  Georgina stood up too and said, ‘Let me take her up. I—I should like to go to bed too if you won’t think me rude.’

  He got up at once, exclaiming, ‘My dear good girl
, how thoughtless of me! You must be longing for bed and there are several things I had meant to talk to you about this evening, for I have to leave early tomorrow.’

  Georgina resolutely kept resignation out of her voice, ‘Very well, I’ll take Beatrix up and come down again, shall I?’ and was relieved when he said, ‘Indeed no, I’m no slavedriver. Go to bed, Miss Rodman; but I should be grateful if you could see me tomorrow before I leave, and I must warn you that that is early in the morning. I breakfast at half past seven—perhaps we could clear up several points then? I shan’t ask you to share my breakfast, but perhaps you will have a cup of coffee.’

  She agreed; after all, she was in the habit of getting up at six-thirty most days. She said goodnight and went upstairs with Beatrix clutching her hand, the Professor’s formal ‘Good night, Nurse’ still ringing in her ears. Beatrix’s room, she discovered, was down one of the small passages leading off the main upstairs corridor. It was a good deal smaller than Cor’s, but its furniture was so exactly right for a small girl, and the furnishings so pretty, that she stopped in the doorway and exclaimed:

  ‘What a lovely room, Beatrix—like something out of a fairy-tale!’

  Beatrix was climbing into bed. ‘Yes, isn’t it? When we came here I was a very little girl, and Cousin Julius thought I might be frightened sometimes if I woke in the night, so I sleep next door to him, and when I got bigger, he let me choose the colours I like best…’ she nodded at a door in the farthest wall. ‘There’s another room there; our nurse had it until she got married. Now it’s empty, but I don’t mind at all ’cos Cousin Julius is so close.’

  She had arranged her very small person in a tight ball, pulled the covers up to her ears, and now declared that she was ready to go to sleep, and would Georgina kindly kiss her goodnight. Georgina complied, switched on the little nightlight on the tallboy, and went away to her own room. There was no sound coming from Cor, but all the same she went quietly in to see if he was sleeping, and, satisfied on that score, she went finally to her bed, leaving the door open between them.

  It was dark when she awoke, and at first she thought that it was the alarm clock she had had the foresight to bring with her which had awakened her. It was, in fact, a gentle tap on her door, and a moment later Milly came quietly in carrying a tea tray. She said ‘Good morning, Nurse,’ in a pleasant, soft voice, put down the tray by the bed and added, ‘I’ll run your bath,’ then was gone again, as silently as she had come. Georgina bathed and dressed, crowned her shining hair with her little muslin cap, and went downstairs.

  The Professor was already at the breakfast table, obviously half way through his meal, and dealing with his post, about half of which he had scattered around his plate; the remainder, together with a quantity of empty envelopes, littered the floor around his chair. He got to his feet as she went in and said pleasantly, ‘Good morning, Nurse Rodman. I hope you slept well. Pour yourself some coffee, will you?’ Georgina removed The Times and sat down and did as she was bid while he made vast inroads into his breakfast. She had just settled herself nicely, and had raised the cup to her lips when he remarked:

  ‘I’ve made a few notes of several small points I feel we should clear…’ He paused and started to search amongst the untidy heap of letters, until, exasperated, Georgina got up and took them from him, identified his untidy writing on the back of an envelope and put it into his hand. Before she sat down again she piled the letters neatly, whisked a wastepaper basket from a corner of the room and threw in the litter on the floor. As she resumed her seat, she said sedately, ‘I’m sorry to be fussy; I couldn’t possibly concentrate on what you wish to say to me if I were forced to contemplate such a mess.’

  He eyed her without speaking, drank the remains of his coffee, and answered cheerfully, ‘Well, it’s only for this morning, isn’t it?’

  Georgina went pink. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude.’ She spoke rather breathlessly, and felt snubbed when he took no notice of this remark, but began in a businesslike way to enumerate the items on his list—days off; her laundry, the use of the car; her hours of duty and what did she feel about being called at night, or should he make some arrangement to cover this possibility.

  ‘Good gracious, no,’ she said. ‘Cor’s not likely to wake, and even if he does, it’s not likely to be for hours on end, is it?’

  They agreed about the few remaining points and he threw the envelope into the basket. ‘I must go,’ he said. ‘Thanks for coming down—I hope it didn’t bother you.’

  ‘We go on duty early in hospital,’ Georgina reminded him. ‘It was nothing unusual.’ He looked at his watch and she said quickly, ‘Before you go, I promised the children I would ask you if you object to them calling me George—amongst themselves, that is.’ She saw his frown and went on hurriedly, ‘I don’t mind, and I can’t see that it matters.’ His eyebrows soared, and she added, ‘That is if you don’t mind, Professor.’

  He got up. ‘As long as you are persuaded that your professional status is in no way infringed upon.’ He gave her a cool glance. ‘You will, I hope, have no objection if I continue to address you as Nurse Rodman.’ He gave her a brief nod of farewell; and was gone before she could think of anything suitable to say in reply. She went back upstairs, very slowly, feeling puzzled as to the cause of the professor’s sudden and unexpected spurt of ill-humour. She went into Cor’s room, and found him awake. He greeted her with a cheerful good morning and asked:

  ‘Have you been up long, George? Did you see Cousin Julius? I heard him go—he always toots twice as he goes under my window. He’s got a busy day before him,’ he added rather importantly.

  ‘I don’t doubt it,’ observed Georgina, ‘and so have we, start this very minute by taking your temperature.’

  She had done this and was helping him to wash his hands and face when they were joined by Beatrix. She stood in her dressing gown watching while Georgina combed her patient’s hair and remarked grumpily:

  ‘Why can’t you look after me as well?’

  ‘You’re not ill—Cor’s not ill, either,’ amended Georgina hastily. ‘What I mean is, you’re not strung up by the legs, are you? I shall only look after Cor until he’s able to look after himself.’

  ‘I should like to be looked after,’ persisted Beatrix. ‘You looked after me in hospital.’

  ‘Bless you, child, that’s what I’m there for, but I daresay I can look after you just a very little while I’m here; just so long as it doesn’t interfere with what I have to do for Cor. If you go and get dressed now, I’ll help you with your hair if you like, and later on, when I’ve got Cor settled, we’ll do some planning.’

  Half an hour later, leaving Cor to his breakfast, she went downstairs again, with Beatrix in close attendance, to find Franz already at the table, eating at a great rate. He got up hastily, said, ‘Excuse me if I go on, George,’ and sat down again.

  Georgina said understandingly, ‘Ah, school. Do you have far to go?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, I go by bike.’

  ‘Will you be going to boarding school?’

  He looked surprised and a little shocked. ‘Oh, no. My father wouldn’t have liked that, and nor does Julius. You see, we are half Dutch, and they don’t send their children to boarding schools. I shall go to Cambridge when I’m older though. Karel is there now—he’s coming home this weekend.’

  He applied himself to his breakfast once more, and Georgina busied herself with Beatrix’s wants and then saw to her own. They had almost finished and Franz had gone when Dimphena came in, looking prettier than ever, ‘Oh dear,’ she said with faint apology, ‘I’m always last. I shall hate getting up early when I go to that wretched school.’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ said Georgina soothingly. ‘Everyone else gets up too and it never seems so bad.’

  Dimphena turned enquiring blue eyes upon her. ‘Did you go to a school like that?’ she wanted to know.

  Georgina smiled: ‘No, but in hospital we all get called at half past six,’ and l
aughed out loud at Dimphena’s look of horror before continuing, ‘I don’t know what Beatrix does in the morning, but I wondered if she would like to come along to Cor’s room later and we could play cards or I could read to them both. Professor Eyffert told me that you would sit with Cor while I go out for an hour or so after lunch. Is that all right?’

  Dimphena nodded. ‘Yes, of course. And Beatrix is dying to be allowed to play with Cor, aren’t you, Beatrix?’

  Georgina studied the small face beaming at her across the table.

  ‘That’s settled, then,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a few things to do for Cor now, and then he’ll be X-rayed, but we’ll have plenty of time before lunchtime.’

  The morning passed quickly; more quickly than she had expected. Mr Sawbridge arrived earlier than she had expected, bringing the radiographer with him. They busied themselves over Cor’s legs for half an hour or so, and when they had finished, Mr Sawbridge said, ‘Well, that’s done for another month, old man,’ and sat down on his patient’s bed. ‘What do you intend to do with yourself all day?’

  Cor looked thoughtful. ‘I don’t exactly know, but George says we’re going to make plans.’

  Mr Sawbridge glanced over at Georgina, who was writing cryptic details of the morning’s work on to her chart. ‘Plans, Nurse?’ and she answered airily: