by Betty Neels
‘Don’t be silly, of course I go out. But housemen don’t have much money, I wouldn’t be so mean as to insist on all the most expensive places.’
‘Tell you what,’ Karel said kindly, ‘I’ll come down to town and take you out once in a while. Anyway, old Julius is sure to ask you down to Dalmers Place. I’ll tell him to lay on something special—caviare, and—er—saddle of hare and a crême brulée made with at least a dozen eggs.’
‘Don’t you dare,’ she said heatedly. ‘Don’t you dare to ask him to invite me…I wouldn’t come anyway.’
Her companion looked amazed. ‘Why ever not? The kids will want to see you, anyway.’
‘Yes, I know—I’m going to miss them terribly, but once my job is over I’d rather not go back to Dalmers Place.’
His gaze was disconcerting. ‘Have you hated it so much, Georgina?’
She felt near to tears; she hadn’t meant it to sound like that at all. ‘Oh, Karel, no! I’ve loved every minute of it. I shall hate going; I can’t even bear to think about it.’ She stopped. As usual her rebel tongue was having its own way. ‘I mean that, truly I do—I’ve been so happy, Karel.’
She looked at him beseechingly and tried again. ‘You see, my sort of life isn’t your sort of life.’
‘That’s a damn silly thing to say. If Julius knew…’
She went red and then white. ‘Karel, please don’t ever tell him. Promise—you must promise!’
He gave her a discerning look, smiled suddenly and said reassuringly, ‘I promise, Georgina. Cross my heart.’
She let out a relieved sigh and said with an effort, ‘What a silly conversation! Let’s forget it.’
‘OK. Can’t help, I suppose, old lady?’
She was touched. She shook her head. ‘You’re almost the nicest person I know, Karel.’
‘Almost? There lies the crux of the matter, eh? All right, I won’t say another word,’ and he plunged into a wildly improbable story about life at Cambridge.
He took her back home in time for tea, and left after, with a casual ‘See you soon,’ and a brotherly hug which gave her the shoulder-ache for hours after. As the Morgan roared down the lane, Aunt Polly murmured:
‘Such a nice young man, Georgina.’ She sighed and went on briskly, ‘Ask Mrs Mogg to open the claret, will you, dear? We can all do with a glass, I fancy.’
Georgina had a wild welcome from Cor and Beatrix when she got back—almost, she observed laughingly, as though she had been away for three weeks instead of only three days. She had a welcome from the Professor too—a hurried one as they passed each other in the hall. He, it seemed, was on his way up to London—St Athel’s had some dire emergency, and he was doubtful if he would be back before midnight. She thought he looked pale and rather cross, and the smile she offered him was not returned.
He wasn’t home the next day either. She went through the day’s routine, very aware that the month had shrunk to less than three weeks and there was nothing she could do about it. Illogically, she was disappointed to find that the friendship which had grown between them had come to its apparent end. There were no more mornings helping him with his post; no more reports given in the study after dinner, and only very rarely did he get home in time to have tea with the rest of them. He was as charmingly polite and kind as he always had been, only there was a barrier between them—a withdrawal on his part, which, being feminine, she naturally put down to feminine influence other than her own. Each day slid into the next, each one a little quicker than the last, until the day Mr Sawbridge came to look at Cor’s legs, and stated positively that he would be down to remove the traction in five days’ time. Georgina accompanied him to the door, and he said, ‘Well, George, back to St Athel’s in a week or so. I daresay they’ll manage once Cor’s got used to his legs again, and that won’t take long.’
She agreed in a hollow voice, observing that he would probably throw his crutches away the moment her back was turned. He agreed cheerfully, ‘In that case, we’ll put him into calipers.’ He picked up his gloves from the side table in the hall and nodded to Stephens, who had appeared soft-footed to let him out. ‘I’ll be down on Wednesday, George—as near ten o’clock as I can manage.’
He got into his car, waved in farewell, and disappeared, leaving her standing at the door, a prey to gloomy thoughts.
He was as good as his word; it was barely ten o’clock when he arrived. Georgina had not only readied Cor, but had thoughtfully cleared a space round the bed, and found a wooden table upon which to put all the clutter which they would presently discard. She had also prevailed upon Dimphena to take Beatrix down to the village for a good brisk walk. It had turned much colder in the last few days; there had been a little snow and a great deal of frost, but the sky was blue at the moment, and Beatrix had gone off happily enough with a list of odds and ends to buy for Georgina. Cor had been more difficult to deal with, though. He was white with excitement; he had eaten no breakfast and had objected more forcibly than usual to his bed-bath. He had begun, rather sullenly, to put forward a great many objections to crutches, calipers, or any support at all, and as the time approached for Mr Sawbridge’s arrival, he was declaring that the first thing he would do when he was on his feet would be to mount his bicycle. It was a great relief when Mr Sawbridge, bearing several walking calipers under one arm, walked in. He greeted them cheerfully and said, ‘George, go down to the car and bring up the shoes, will you? We’ll get this man on to his feet before I go.’
‘No crutches?’ asked Cor, instantaneously good-natured again.
‘No crutches,’ said Mr Sawbridge, ‘provided you do exactly as you’re told. Otherwise, crutches.’
Georgina smiled as she sped downstairs. Old Sawbones was no fool; anyway he had little boys of his own. His car, a stately and somewhat elderly Daimler, stood before the door. Just behind it was the Silver Shadow, with the Professor bending his length over the boot. He looked up as she opened the door and observed, as though he were continuing a conversation which had been interrupted, ‘I’ve got several pairs of shoes here, for I daresay Cor’s feet have grown. Stay there, I’ll bring them—it’s too cold for you to come outside.’
She stood inside the door, watching him. He was half turned away from her, so that she could study him at leisure. It wasn’t likely that she would have the opportunity to do so again and she didn’t want to forget a single line of his face. When he straightened up she looked away quickly and stood aside to let him pass through the door, and then took the shoes from him while he took off his coat. She ventured to say to his back:
‘I didn’t expect you, Professor.’
He turned to look at her. ‘I gave you no reason to do so,’ he remarked placidly. ‘Why did you stare so?’
Her composed voice successfully disguised her surprise.
‘Was I staring? I’m sorry. I was thinking and not really looking.’
He took the shoes from her. ‘A pity,’ he observed, and when she gave him an enquiring look, added, ‘That wasn’t the answer I wanted.’
They went up the staircase side by side, not speaking, and found Mr Sawbridge in his shirtsleeves and Cor looking apprehensive. The Professor took off his jacket too, smiled encouragingly at his small ward, nodded to his colleague and said, ‘Right, let’s go.’
The wooden blocks upon which the foot of the bed had been resting had to be moved first. Georgina whisked them away as the men lifted and then unhooked the tins of shot which had weighted Cor’s legs for so long, while the two men eased the cords attached to them. They kept up a steady flow of talk as they worked, so that when she went to the head of the bed and took hold of Cor’s hand, he was almost unaware of Mr Sawbridge drawing out the Steinmann pins from below each small knee, and anyway, he could see nothing of the small undertaking, as the Professor had placed his bulk strategically to block the view…It was only left to remove the Thomas’s splints to complete the business. This done, they paused for a moment to admire the little boy’s strangely bony l
egs, though at least, as Julius was quick to point out, they were legs again; it only remained to get some muscle on them, and that would take no time at all.
‘Let’s see him go through his exercises, Nurse.’ Mr Sawbridge glanced over to Georgina and smiled, and stood, still smiling, while she guided Cor to follow her painstaking work. When they had finished, she took Cor’s hand and waited for the verdict.
‘Very nice, don’t you agree, Julius? Let’s have him in a chair.’
She had put a chair ready by the fire; now Julius scooped the little boy up and sat him in it, and she helped him into his dressing gown and knelt to put the socks on his feet while the Professor rang for Stephens. He held a low-voiced colloquy with him, and presently Stephens came back with a tray with bottles and glasses.
‘I think this calls for a celebration,’ said the Professor. ‘I suggest we drink your health, Cor, before we put on those calipers.’ The three of them solemnly toasted the boy, whose ill-humour had quite evaporated with his fears, and who now sat drinking apple juice from a sherry glass, and very cock-a-hoop. The calipers were comparatively easy after that. Georgina tied the last of the laces fastening the leather support of the calipers, winked encouragingly at Cor and stood back while he walked, his guardian on one side, Mr Sawbridge on the other, over to the window.
‘Very good,’ said Julius. ‘Now let’s walk back to Nurse.’
She watched him make his way clumsily towards her, clutching the hands of the men on either side of him. The delight and excitement on his face were such that tears pricked her eyelids, and when he reached her at length, she caught him close and said shakily, ‘Oh, Cor darling, how well you manage!’ She gave him a beaming smile, then smiled at the Professor too, who didn’t smile at all but looked severe. Possibly he was annoyed at her want of dignity. She remembered how Gregg had warned her about her impetuosity; she should learn to control her feelings… She checked a sigh and was grateful to Mr Sawbridge when he said, ‘Success, I think, Staff Nurse Rodman, to which you have contributed more than your share.’ He spoke warmly. ‘Thank you for your co-operation. When you tire of Casualty, let me know—I can always use someone like you.’
She could have hugged him. Instead she said, ‘Thank you, sir,’ went over to the table and started to tidy away the lengths of cord and paraphernalia. The Professor was on his knees, making some minor adjustment to Cor’s calipers, and Mr Sawbridge joined him. She listened to them talking quietly together, with occasional interruptions from Cor, and presently went downstairs with the spare calipers and shoes. When she got back, Mr Sawbridge was in his jacket and ready to go. He shook his patient’s small hand, said, ‘Don’t bother to come down, Julius, I want five minutes with Nurse, we can talk as we go,’ and followed her out of the room. On the way he asked, ‘How much longer are you staying, George?’
She looked straight before her. ‘I don’t know, sir, but I don’t expect it will be for more than a day or so. Anyone can fix those calipers and help him with bathing—Dimphena doesn’t go to Switzerland for a few weeks yet.’
He grunted. ‘Oh, well, I suppose Julius will decide. I take it you have no objection to staying on for a bit if he considers it necessary.’
She said woodenly, ‘Of course not, sir,’ and he grunted again.
‘Think well before you take that job in Casualty.’ He didn’t explain his remark, and she was unable to ask because Stephens was helping him on with his coat.
The day was, naturally, not like any other day. For one thing, the Professor stayed home, and Karel arrived for lunch, a meal to which Cor was carried in triumph by his guardian, surrounded by his brother and sisters. It was a noisy meal with a great deal of chattering and laughter, and Georgina was glad when it was over, because the effort to be lighthearted was one she found difficult to sustain. She looked around the table and wondered how long it would be before she would be able to forget the three months she had spent at Dalmers Place and the people who lived in it, and realized that it would be never. She was fond of each one of them; and Julius she loved.
Mindful of Mr Sawbridge’s instructions, Cor was carried back to his room after the meal, and in the face of his determined opposition, she took off his calipers and tucked him up in bed.
‘Make haste slowly,’ she said firmly. ‘Tomorrow morning you shall get up again, and no amount of black looks will change that, so be a dear boy and stop sulking. Here’s your book. I’m going down to the village, I’ll bring you back one of those drawing books I was telling you about. I expect we’ll all have tea with you presently.’
She was almost ready to go out when Beatrix tapped on the door.
‘I suppose you wouldn’t like company?’ she enquired wistfully.
‘Nothing I’d like better,’ said Georgina, ‘but put on that new anorak, poppet, it’s cold enough for snow. Besides, it’s so pretty.’
They were half-way down the staircase before she saw Julius standing in the hall below. Beatrix took the last few steps at a gallop and threw herself at him. ‘I’m going out with George,’ she stated, ‘and I’m sure if you asked, she’d take you too.’ She danced back to Georgina, who had come to a halt at the bottom of the staircase. ‘Wouldn’t you, George dear?’
Georgina was saved from answering this delicate question, for the Professor spoke first. ‘What a delightful suggestion,’ he remarked. ‘Unfortunately, I’ve a small matter to settle before teatime.’
He smiled at them both, and it crossed Georgina’s mind that he looked very like Cor when that young man was plotting mischief.
It started to snow as they came home, and Georgina went along to Beatrix’s room to make sure that she had changed her shoes and brushed her hair smooth again. So it was that everyone was already in Cor’s room by the time she had changed back into uniform and set her cap once more upon her neat head. She sensed an air of excitement as soon as she entered, heightened considerably by the fact that everyone was looking at her, while pretending not to do so. She went to pour the tea, and arranged Cor’s meal on his bedtable in a spate of talk which did nothing to dispel the idea that they had all been talking about her. There was a lull in the conversation and she glanced up to catch the Professor’s gaze fastened upon her, and was quite bewildered when he asked smoothly:
‘Have you a passport, Miss Rodman?’
She shook her head; if this was an opening remark in a conversation she was going to find it difficult to keep her end up. It seemed a peculiar topic, but at least a safe one. ‘No, I haven’t. I’ve not been out of England.’
The much-travelled members of the Eyffert family turned a battery of blue eyes on to her.
‘Didn’t you ever want to go?’ queried Beatrix.
‘Yes, of course,’ began Georgina with some asperity, then paused. It was hardly their faults that she had never had the opportunity to travel. She smiled suddenly. ‘One day I shall go to Vienna and that bit of coast between Marseille and Spain—oh, and Paris on the way home.’
She was looking at Beatrix as she spoke, but when the Professor asked, ‘In the meantime, would you consider coming to Holland with us?’ She turned her brown eyes upon him; they were opened very wide, so was her delightful mouth. She stared at him, bereft of speech.
‘You see,’ he went on very gently, ‘I want to take Cor over to Bergenstijn for a holiday, but I can’t unless you will come with us. The others will come for a few days, and there may be guests… We shall want you. Will you come?’
She had her breath back. ‘Yes, thank you. I should like to come very much.’ A succession of thoughts skidded through her brain. Her passport—clothes, and would she have time to see Aunt Polly before she went and what about free time while she was there and how were they going?
It seemed he was a mind-reader, for he said soothingly, ‘Don’t worry about clothes or your passport. If you will come down to the study—presently we can discuss the details.’ He smiled and she looked away, because when he smiled at her like that she loved him very much.
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She had time to collect her thoughts before tea was finished. Everyone talked at once, making plans of their own, asking endless questions. She listened to everything that was said, but spoke little herself, and when Julius at length rose to his feet and suggested that she should accompany him, she got up readily enough, eager to hear the answers to the questions seething in her head.
In the study, he said, ‘Sit down, please,’ and went to his desk, where he began a search for something or other, tossing papers and books and pharmaceutical samples in all directions. She sighed and got up.
‘I suppose you’ve written notes on the back of an envelope again,’ she remarked admonishingly. ‘Let me look—you can’t hope to find it in this chaos.’ She gave him a severe look and began to sort through the mess. After a minute or two, she handed him the missing notes and sat down again. He took it meekly, observing, ‘Ah, you see it isn’t only Cor who needs you.’ He was half smiling. ‘And do sit back comfortably. I shan’t gobble you up, you know.’
She blushed in the firelight, and sat back obediently, studying the toes of her neat shoes, listening to his pleasant voice as he told what had to be done. ‘Your passport—there’s no time to get one. You can obtain a temporary one, though—we’ll see about that tomorrow. You’ll want to go home…’ He thought a moment. ‘I’ll run you over tomorrow evening after dinner, if that suits you. Clothes—well, Phena will tell you better than I. I daresay there’ll be some skating—do you skate?’ She nodded. ‘And bring that green dress you wore at Christmas.’
His eyes were on the envelope so she didn’t have to answer him, which was a good thing, for her heart had taken a sudden leap into her throat, so that she had no voice.
‘We shall be there a couple of weeks, I expect—I have a meeting to attend in Brussels, and I may have to come back to England for a day or so, but Karel will come over for several days, and Dimphena and Beatrix will be there. You shall have a couple of days to yourself if you want to go sightseeing: I don’t think there is anything else.’
