Love Can Wait

by Betty Neels

  ‘I would not wish to alarm you, Mrs Crosby,’ he told her. ‘But I think that you should go to a doctor and allow him to examine you.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘Nothing serious, I do assure you, but from what you tell me I should suspect a grumbling appendix, which nowadays can be dealt with in a few days. Do you have a doctor?’

  ‘No. I expect I can find one in Bath.’

  ‘Allow me to arrange a check-up for you—I’ve a colleague in Bath who will see you. I’ll phone him this evening and let you know when he can see you.’

  ‘If it’s necessary. I don’t want Kate worried.’ She added, ‘You’re very kind. You help us so often.’

  ‘I’ll let Kate know and reassure her.’ He put down his mug. ‘I must go back to the party.’ He stood up and took her hand. ‘Mrs Crosby, if you or Kate need help will you let me know? Phone my house. Even if I’m not there, my man will see that I get your message.’

  He loosed her hand, scribbled in his pocket book and took out the page. ‘Here is the number.’

  Mr Tait-Bouverie wasn’t a man to waste time. At home that evening he phoned his colleague in Bath, made an appointment for Mrs Crosby and picked up the phone to tell Kate.

  She was making a last round of the kitchen, making sure that everything was ready for the morning. Daisy and Meg had already gone to their beds and the helpers from the village had long since gone. Mr Tombs had bidden her goodnight, expressed himself satisfied with her efforts and gone upstairs to check windows and doors and lock up. He had looked at her pale face and said kindly, ‘You did a good job, Kate. Mrs Braithewaite was pleased.’

  Kate was on the point of leaving the kitchen when the phone rang. She went to answer it, wondering who it could be, for it was used almost solely to order groceries and receive calls from tradespeople. Mr Tait-Bouverie’s voice, very calm in her ear, took her by surprise so that she had no breath for a moment. When he said her name for a second time she said, ‘Yes, it’s me.’

  ‘You’re tired, but this is most important. I went to see your mother this afternoon. I’m not sure, but from what she tells me she may have a threatening appendicitis. Nothing to worry about, provided it’s nipped in the bud. I’ve arranged for a Dr Bright in Bath to see your mother on Monday afternoon. He’ll examine her, and if he thinks it’s necessary he’ll have her in hospital and take her appendix out. It’s a simple operation and she will be quite fit in a few weeks.’

  He was silent, and Kate said angrily, ‘Why wasn’t I told? How ill is Mother? I had no idea, and now you’re telling me all this just as though it’s not important, as though she’s got a cold in the head or cut her hand…’

  ‘Forgive me, Kate. You are always so sensible and practical, and I thought that I could tell you without wrapping it up in soft talk and caution.’

  ‘Well, you’re wrong. I’ve got feelings like everyone else—except you, of course. I don’t suppose you feel anything except pleasure in nailing bones together and dancing with Claudia. You don’t know about loving…’ She gave a great sniff and hung up, then snatched up the phone again, appalled at what she had just said. ‘No, no. I don’t mean a word of it…’

  The line was dead, of course.

  To find a quiet corner and have a good cry was out of the question; Kate locked the door behind her and went to the cottage. Her mother gave her a guilty look as she went in and Kate said at once, ‘Mr Tait-Bouverie has just been phoning me, Mother.’ She spoke cheerfully and managed a smile, too. ‘I had no idea that you weren’t feeling well—I should have seen for myself…’

  ‘Darling, you had more than enough to think about. Besides, I’m not really ill. What did James say?’

  Kate told her. ‘I expect there’ll be a letter in the post on Monday morning. I’ll ask Mrs Braithewaite if I can have the afternoon off and we’ll catch the bus in after lunch. A Dr Bright is going to see you, and if he thinks he should he’ll refer you to the hospital. We can’t make any plans for the moment until we know what’s to happen.’

  Kate put her arms round her mother. ‘I’m sorry, Mother, dear—it was very brave of you not to say something.’

  ‘This birthday party was important, Kate. Once you start on your own you may find it useful; a lot of the guests are local people, and news gets around in the country.’

  ‘None of that matters while you’re not well, mother. I’m going to make us a warm drink and you’re going to bed. We’ll know more on Monday.’

  There was a letter on Monday morning, giving the time and the place where Mrs Crosby was to go and, what was more, Tombs himself took Kate aside after breakfast and informed her that Mrs Braithewaite, having been appraised of Mrs Crosby’s indisposition, had ordered Mr Briggs to drive them both to Bath and bring them back.

  Kate stared at him, her eyes wide. ‘Mr Tombs, however did Mrs Braithewaite know? I’ve certainly not told her—I intended to do so this morning…’

  ‘As to that, Kate, I am quite unable to say,’ he told her severely, mindful of Mr James’s express wish that the source of the arrangement should be kept secret.

  ‘I’ve talked to my aunt, Tombs,’ Mr Tait-Bouverie had continued. ‘And she has agreed to sending Briggs with the car, so not a word to a soul.’

  Tombs had assured him that he would be as quiet as the grave.

  So Kate and her mother were driven in comfort to see Dr Bright, a youngish man, who examined Mrs Crosby and then told her in his pleasant voice that she should go into hospital as soon as possible and have her appendix out.

  ‘Which hospital?’ asked Kate. ‘You see, we don’t actually live here…’

  ‘Ah—as to that, I think things could be arranged. You are acquainted with Mr Tait-Bouverie, are you not? He is an old friend and colleague of mine—and an honorary consultant at our hospital; there should be no trouble in finding a bed for you for a week or ten days—and you are an emergency, Mrs Crosby. I should like you to come tomorrow and be seen by the surgeon there—also a colleague of Mr Tait-Bouverie—and he will decide when he will operate. The sooner the better. The operation is simple, but nonetheless necessary.’

  When Mrs Crosby hesitated, Kate said, ‘You are very kind, Doctor. If you will tell me where Mother has to go and at what time…?’

  ‘Would you wait while I arrange a bed?’ said Dr Bright, and ushered them back into the waiting room, to emerge in ten minutes or so.

  ‘Bring Mrs Crosby to the hospital at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon. She will be seen then, and admitted.’

  He shook hands with them both, said that he would be seeing Mrs Crosby again very shortly, and went back to his surgery and lifted the phone.

  Kate was surprised at the amount of willing help she was offered when she told Mr Tombs the result of their visit to the doctor. She had expected him to grumble, even make it difficult for her to go with her mother to the hospital the next day, but he had been helpful. She was to go with her mother directly after lunch and stay until she was quite satisfied that Mrs Crosby was comfortable, and she had seen the surgeon.

  ‘But dinner,’ said Kate. ‘I may not be back in time to cook it.’

  ‘You have the morning,’ Mr Tombs reminded her. ‘Prepare a dish which Daisy or Meg can warm up. They are quite capable of cooking the vegetables. Unless Mrs Braithewaite asks for a special dessert, you will have time in the morning to make a trifle. She is partial to trifle.’

  Kate thanked him and started to cook that evening’s dinner, and make a steak and kidney pie for the staff supper. She made two; one would do for the next day. She had seen her mother safely back to the cottage and left her to pack a case and get ready for the next day. She hated leaving her alone, but Mrs Braithewaite had been kind so far, and so had Mr Tombs, but she was still the cook with a job to do.

  Briggs took them to Bath the following day. Tombs had taken Kate aside while she was getting the breakfast and told her that Mrs Braithewaite had herself suggested it. ‘And when you are ready to return, she wishes you to telephone to me and I will inst
ruct Briggs to fetch you from the hospital,’ said Tombs at his most pompous.

  It was a surprise, too, when Mrs Crosby was taken to a small room opening out of the women’s surgical ward. Kate said anxiously to the sister, ‘Is there some mistake? I mean, Mother’s on the NHS—we can’t afford to pay—and this is a private room, isn’t it?’

  Sister smiled. ‘It is the only bed we have free,’ she explained. ‘And of course you won’t have to pay for it. Your mother will be here for a week or ten days at the most. Is there someone to look after her when she goes home?’

  ‘Me,’ said Kate. ‘I’m a cook; we have a little cottage close to the house. I can manage quite well as long as Mother can be left while I work.’

  ‘It should be perfectly all right.’ Sister patted Kate’s arm. ‘You mustn’t worry; I’m sure Dr Bright told you that it is a simple operation, and only needs a short stay in hospital. I’ll leave you to get your mother settled in and then, if you will come to my office, I dare say Mr Samuels will see you. He’s the surgeon who will operate.’

  He was quite a young man, Kate discovered, and he told her that he would operate on the following day. Possibly in the afternoon. ‘I’ll get someone to let you know, then if you wish to see your mother you will be able to do so.’

  ‘I’m not sure if I can get away. You see, I’m a cook and there’s dinner to prepare. I’ve been given a lot of free time already…’ Kate added anxiously, ‘If I phoned, would someone tell me if everything was all right? I’ll come if I possibly can…’

  ‘Don’t worry if you can’t come,’ he assured her. ‘We’ll keep you informed, and I’m sure Sister will let you visit whenever you can manage it.’

  So Kate bade a cheerful goodbye to her mother and phoned Mr Tombs, who told her to wait at the hospital entrance until Briggs came to fetch her. ‘I trust everything is satisfactory, Kate?’ he added.

  Kate said that, yes, it was, and thanked him once again. ‘Everyone is being so helpful,’ she told him.

  Mr Tait-Bouverie would have been pleased to hear that. He had spent time and thought and hours on the phone, persuading and explaining, shamelessly taking advantage of his consultant’s post at the hospital. Because he was well liked by his colleagues—and Tombs hid a lifelong devotion to him—he had succeeded in his plan. Only Mrs Braithewaite had demanded to know why he should be taking so much trouble over her cook’s mother.

  ‘I’m sure Kate’s mother is a very pleasant person,’ she had stated. ‘But, after all, Kate is the cook, James.’

  ‘She is my future wife.’ Mr Tait-Bouverie heard the old lady gasp. ‘So, dear Aunt Edith, will you do as I ask?’

  ‘Does she know?’

  ‘No.’

  Mrs Braithewaite chuckled. ‘She is an excellent cook and a very pretty girl, and it’s time you settled down. Come and see me when you have the time, James; I dare say you have some scheme in that clever head of yours.’

  ‘Indeed, I have. And I’m free tomorrow.’

  ‘I shall expect you!’

  The operation was a success. Kate was called to answer the phone just as she had sent Mrs Braithewaite’s lunch up on Daisy’s tray. Sister was reassuringly cheerful. ‘Your mother is back in bed and sleeping peacefully.’

  ‘I thought it was to be this afternoon.’ Kate did her best to keep the wobble out of her voice; it was silly to want to cry now that everything was all right.

  ‘Mr Samuels decided to do your mother at the end of his morning list.’ Sister had hesitated before she spoke, but Kate was in no state to notice.

  ‘Please give Mother my love when she wakes up, and I’ll come when I can. Would this evening be too late?’

  ‘Come when you can,’ said Sister comfortably. ‘Your mother will probably be asleep, but if you visit her you’ll feel better, won’t you?’

  Kate put down the phone. She was crying, although she had tried her best not to. Everything was all right, Sister had said, but she longed to be with her mother—just for a minute or two. Just to make quite sure…

  Mr Tombs came to a silent halt beside her, and she blew her nose and sniffed back the tears. ‘That was the hospital, Mr Tombs. Mother is back in her bed and everything is fine. Sister said so.’

  ‘We are all relieved at the good news,’ said Tombs, looking suitably serious. ‘I will inform Mrs Braithewaite and I suggest that you go and have your dinner with the rest of the staff, Kate.’

  He went on his dignified way and Kate went back to the kitchen, to be cheered by the kind enquiries she had from Daisy and Meg and the daily woman from the village. She couldn’t eat her dinner, and only drank the strong tea Daisy gave her, her head filled with rather wild plans to go to Bath and see her mother. This evening, she reflected, once dinner had been served, she would get a taxi. No one would object to that, and she would be back before Tombs locked up for the night.

  She got up and went along to the fridge; preparations for dinner needed to be made and Mrs Braithewaite wanted scones for her tea.

  Tombs came looking for her. ‘I have informed Mrs Braithewaite of your mother’s operation, Kate. I am to tell Briggs to drive you to the hospital at half past seven this evening.’

  Kate put down the dish of Dover sole she was inspecting. ‘He will? I may go with him? How very kind of Mrs Braithewaite. I was going to ask you if it would be all right for me to get a taxi once dinner had been served, Mr Tombs.’

  She smiled, wanting to cry from sheer relief. ‘I’ll have everything quite ready if Daisy or Meg won’t mind dishing up.’

  ‘They are glad to help you, Kate. If you wish to telephone the hospital you have my permission to do so.’

  There wasn’t much time once Kate had cooked dinner, so she hurried over to the cottage, tore into a jumper and skirt and shabby jacket, tied a scarf over her hair and, anxious not to keep Briggs waiting, went quickly to the other side of the yard where he would be ready.

  ‘Sorry I’m late, Mr Briggs,’ she told him breathlessly. ‘It’s been a bit of a rush.’

  ‘Just you sit and catch your breath, Kate. It’s a nasty old night—going to rain; chilly, too. Your ma’s in the best place, I reckon.’

  Certainly, Kate thought as she got out at the hospital entrance, it looked cheerful, with lights shining from every window. She paused to poke her head through the car window. ‘I’ll not be long, Mr Briggs. Will you be here, or shall I meet you somewhere? The car park?’

  ‘You come here, Kate.’

  He drove away when she had gone inside.

  Kate went to the reception desk and waited impatiently while the girl phoned the ward. She was to go up, she was told. She could take the lift, or the stairs were at the back of the hall.

  She raced up the stairs two at a time and then paused to calm down before she pushed open the ward doors. A nurse came to meet her and led her through the ward and into the short corridor onto which her mother’s room opened.

  ‘Your mother’s fine, but tired,’ said the nurse, and smiled and left her.

  Mrs Crosby, comfortably propped up with pillows, was rather pale but almost her usual cheerful self. She said happily, ‘Kate, dear, how lovely. How did you get here?’

  ‘Briggs brought me, Mother. How lovely to have it all over and done with. Are you comfortable? Does it hurt? Are you being well looked after?’

  ‘I’m being treated like a film star, and I’m only a bit sore. I’m to get out of bed tomorrow.’

  Kate embraced her parent rather gingerly, and pulled up a chair.

  ‘So soon? Do you want anything? I’m not sure if I can come tomorrow, but I’ll be here on Friday—it’s my day off, and I can get the bus. Do you want any more nighties? What about books? Fruit? I couldn’t bring flowers; there wasn’t a shop open.’

  She took her mother’s hand in hers. ‘Mother, dear, I’m so glad that they discovered your appendix before it got too bad. I’ll ask if I can see the surgeon and thank him.’

  ‘Yes, dear, such a nice man. But it’s James we have
to thank. He knew what to do.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course. I’ll write and thank him, shall I?’

  She remembered what she had said to him on the phone and blushed hotly. It would be a difficult letter to write. And it would serve her right if he tore it up without reading it.

  She didn’t stay long; her mother was already half-asleep. She bent and kissed her, and went back down the ward and tapped on Sister’s office door.

  Sister was there, sitting at her desk, and so was Mr Samuels. Mr Tait-Bouverie was there too, lounging against the windowsill.

  Kate stopped short in the doorway. She said ‘Oh,’ uncertainly and then, ‘I’m sorry—I didn’t know…’

  ‘Come in, Miss Crosby,’ said Sister briskly. ‘You’ve visited your mother?’ When Kate nodded, she added, ‘Well, since Mr Samuels is here I expect he’ll tell you that everything is just as it should be.’

  Kate transferred her eyes to his face, careful not to look at Mr Tait-Bouverie after that first startled glance.

  ‘Your mother is doing well. Nothing to worry about. A nasty appendix; we caught it just in time. She’ll be up and about in no time.’ He smiled nicely. ‘Of course, you know Mr Tait-Bouverie, don’t you? Lucky he got the ball rolling, so to speak.’

  Kate cast a look at Mr Tait-Bouverie’s waistcoat. ‘Yes, I’m very grateful. Thank you very much, Mr Samuels. And Sister. I’m being taken back—someone’s waiting for me—I’d better go. I’ll come again as soon as I can.’

  Mr Tait-Bouverie hadn’t uttered a word. Now he said quietly, ‘I’ll drive you back, Kate.’

  ‘No.’ Kate spoke loudly and too quickly before she could stop herself. She felt her face grow hot. ‘What I mean is,’ she added lamely, ‘Mr Briggs is waiting for me.’

  ‘He went straight back to my aunt’s house. If you’re ready?’

  He stood up and went to the door, and she saw that there was nothing else to do but go with him. Mr Samuels was smiling, and so was Sister…

  She thanked them both once more, shook hands and went past Mr Tait-Bouverie, who was holding the door open for her.