by Betty Neels
Constantijn claimed her a few minutes later, cutting in with smooth good manners which left her partner with nothing to say. He said in her ear, ‘Having a good time, Roly?’
‘Oh, marvellous.’ She shot him a quick glance, taking care to be very natural. Rather pleased with her efforts, she went on gaily, ‘You made a super speech,’ and heard him say over her head, ‘Yes—what’s the matter, Augusta?’
It was so unexpected that she was unable to say anything for a moment. To deny it altogether would be of no use. She said carefully, ‘Nothing really. It’s just that I’ve met so many people and I’m not used to this sort of thing—I think I feel a little overwhelmed.’ She addressed his white shirt front, for to look at him was beyond her. ‘Susan looked gorgeous, didn’t she? How long does the junketing last?’
He disposed of this conversational gambit with a brief, ‘Yes, she did,’ and, ‘Breakfast at five o’clock. When are you free tomorrow?’
She was able to answer with perfect truth. ‘I’m not—at least, I’ve got an on at one, and I must get some sleep first.’
‘The evening?’
‘I shan’t be off until nine o’clock, and you know what that means by the time the report’s given.’
‘Any weekends in the offing?’
The lie came with surprising ease. ‘Afraid not—I swopped with Sister.’ Not for the world would she tell him that she was free the following weekend. She had to have time to think what she was going to say, and until she was ready to say it, the less she saw of him the better.
‘When are you going back to Holland?’ she asked.
‘Not until Monday—which means that I shan’t see you before I go. I’ll telephone you; there must be some corner of time we can snatch before then.’
‘All right.’ Before she could say any more, he went on silkily, ‘You know, if it were anyone else but you, dear Augusta, I should think you were playing hard to get.’
She addressed his shirt front once more, keeping her voice cheerfully matter-of-fact. ‘Well, I’m not anyone else, and you know how difficult it is to plan a social life when you’re a nurse.’ She risked a quick look at him; he was smiling a little, completely at ease and not, she concluded crossly, particularly upset at the idea of not seeing her. She asked gaily, ‘Who was the man I was dancing with—the one with all the medals?’ and he seemed quite content to allow the conversation to drift away into small talk until presently they parted again. It was almost three o’clock when he swung her on to the floor again and this time she asked, ‘Would you mind very much if I went back to St Jude’s soon?’
‘Never tired?’ he queried lazily.
‘A little—it was theatre day, you know—and yesterday too.’
He said at once, ‘Dear Roly, what a thoughtless fool I am! I’ll take you back now and you must promise me that you’ll go to bed and not get up until you go on duty tomorrow.’
He took her arm and led her over to Lady Belway’s chair and as they went she laughed a little. ‘That’s an easy promise to keep—easier than most,’ and stopped because of what she had almost said, but he didn’t appear to have heard her and driving her back to the hospital, he talked only of their evening, and that casually as though he were making himself agreeable to someone he was giving a lift home. At St Jude’s she said quickly, ‘Don’t get out,’ but could have saved her breath, for he went with her through the quiet entrance lobby and along the passage just as he had done before, only this time she was unhappy and then she had floated along in a wonderful dream. At the door he kissed her gently and said merely, ‘Sleep well, dear Roly,’ and although she was certain that he was going to say something else, he didn’t, but waited by the door until she reached the door of the Nurses’ Home and turned to wave to him.
CHAPTER NINE
SHE THOUGHT ABOUT him a great deal during the next few days. He had suggested telephoning, and when he didn’t her disappointment was tempered with relief because she wanted to be quite sure of herself before she saw him again. He was probably already at Doctor Soames’ and, she thought wryly, probably Susan was there as well. She hoped she wouldn’t need to meet Susan, especially now that she knew what she had to say, although she was still a little uncertain as to how to say it. She was conscious of rage as well as unhappiness now, although she was determined to show nothing but a cool dignified front when she met Constantijn. But as the weekend approached, she became more and more edgy so that the nurses on the ward, accustomed to her calm good nature, stood aghast while she vented a spleen they didn’t know she had.
Her mother was at Sherborne to meet her, and if she found her daughter silent on the journey home, she made no comment, but talked about everything under the sun excepting Constantijn. It was Augusta who mentioned him. ‘Is he at Dr Soames’, Mother?’ she asked lightly. ‘He’s going back to Alkmaar on Monday, you know—we haven’t been able to see each other for a little while.’
Mrs Brown, concealing with admirable aplomb the fact that Constantijn had told her only the previous day that her daughter wasn’t free that weekend, said that yes, she fancied he was still there for Dr Soames had gone down to Exeter to watch county cricket, and presumably someone was taking his surgery. She then plunged into a maze of questions concerning the dance which kept both ladies nicely occupied until they reached home. There Mrs Brown, with maternal cunning, suggested to Augusta that she might like to put the car away and then stroll down to the paddock to say hullo to Bottom, while she herself just popped in to see if supper was getting on. This manoeuvre gave her the necessary time to find her husband and son and warn them to be careful what they said to Roly because there was something wrong, although she didn’t know what. ‘And,’ she went on, ‘don’t say anything about Lady Belway being down here or that she’s coming to tea tomorrow,’ and when they wanted to know why merely stated maddeningly that she didn’t know but they would probably find out before it was too late.
They all three turned to stare out of the window at Augusta walking up from the paddock, not knowing that she was under observation; she looked dejected and unhappy, but as she neared the house she quickened her pace and lifted her head. Obviously, whatever it was, they were not going to be told about it.
She spent the next morning mooning around, practising her carefully thought out speech on Bottom, waiting for the afternoon. As it was Friday there was surgery from three to four as well as from six to seven. She had made up her mind to go just before four, see Constantijn as soon as the last patient had gone, and come home again. Beyond this point she didn’t choose to think. Soon after three she went up to her room and changed into the mouse-coloured dress, did her hair with tremendous care, her face too, and went downstairs to find her mother in the garden and tell her with a false cheerfulness that she was taking the car for half an hour.
A few minutes later she turned the Morris’s elderly nose towards the village, driving rather too fast because she knew the road so well and didn’t care anyway. It was a pity that she had to slow down to keep pace with the local bus just ahead of her. It was lumbering along in its own good time, stopping every few hundred yards to put off and pick up its familiar passengers. There was a farm transporter behind her too, so that she had to pay attention to her driving, which accounted for her not seeing Lady Belway’s Daimler, with Lady Belway in it, glide past in the opposite direction. In the village at last, she turned the car off the road into the doctor’s short drive and got out to go in through the open surgery door at the side of the house, before she could change her mind. Miss Pink, who had been with Dr Soames for as long as Augusta could remember, lifted her alert, middle-aged face to look at her as she went in and said, ‘Hullo, Gussie dear. Dr Soames is away.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Augusta. ‘I came to see Constantijn.’ She looked round the empty waiting room. ‘Is there anyone with him?’
‘Yes, dear, old Mrs Trent—her legs, you know—she won’t be long now, though. Would you like me to tell Doctor you’re here?’
>
Augusta answered a shade too quickly, ‘No—oh, no, thank you, Pinky, I’ll surprise him.’
But when she opened the door of the consulting room a few minutes later, he didn’t look in the least surprised. Pleased, yes, and something else she couldn’t define. Before she could speak he had got up from his chair and come to meet her. ‘Hullo, Augusta. I rather expected you, although I believe you have come for all the wrong reasons—all the same, I’m enchanted to see you.’ He spoke unhurriedly and with no sign of unease, but she caught a gleam in his eye quite at variance with his tone. ‘Sit down, won’t you?’
‘No,’ said Augusta, her voice a little too loud. ‘I’ve made up my mind to talk to you about something and I’d like to say it and go.’
‘About us?’ he queried gently.
‘Yes.’ When she had rehearsed her speech during long wakeful nights and again into Bottom’s woolly neck, it had seemed simple enough; now it was a different matter. She was silent so long that Constantijn asked blandly, ‘Hard to start?—perhaps I could help?’
She looked at him then, standing in front of the desk, his hands in his pockets, rattling his loose change—they had laughed about that habit of his not so long ago. She swallowed the rage she could feel welling up inside her, glad that its very strength made it easier. She found her voice at last, still too loud but quite steady.
‘At the dance the other night, Lady Belway sent me to fetch her shawl from her room. The window was open—I heard you and Susan talking. I should have gone away at once, I suppose, but you were talking about me, so I listened.’ She wasn’t looking at him any more, so she didn’t see his lifted eyebrows but rushed on with her well-rehearsed recital. ‘I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about it ever since and I’ve quite made up my mind. I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.’
She had been speaking quite calmly, but now suddenly misery and temper took over from the sweet reasonableness she had practised so hard.
‘How could you possibly expect me?’ she asked snappily. ‘I told you I hadn’t got a weekend.’
‘So you did—and it was such a palpable fib that I telephoned the hospital to find out for myself.’
Augusta choked. ‘You didn’t telephone me…’
‘No. What would have been the point? You would have only had to think up more fibs.’ She looked at him quickly; his voice had been placid, but she could see the corner of his mouth twitch—he was finding it amusing, no doubt. She said, her voice a little too high as well as too loud, ‘You told me once that I was old-fashioned, and I think I must be—I…’ She stopped because the tears in her throat were making it impossible to talk. Her green eyes flashed at him, standing there staring back at her with expressionless pale gaze. She mastered her childish desire to burst into tears and said fiercely, ‘You’re—you’re…can’t you say anything?’ Her voice, despite her efforts, had risen again.
He answered her unhurriedly, ‘No, I think not, dear Roly, not just at this minute, for you are beside yourself with rage, are you not? Perhaps later…’
‘I won’t be here later,’ said Augusta between her teeth, ‘and how dare you call me Roly! Only my—my nearest and dearest call me that.’
‘And I am neither?’ he queried silkily. ‘What are you going to do now?’
‘I’m going home.’ She swept past him, her strange carroty hair a-glow with rage, her eyes sparkling. She looked, in the drab little dress, like a miniature virago in disguise. ‘I hope I never see you again,’ she said as she reached the door, stammering a little. She went out, banging the door behind her, uneasily aware that she had said almost none of the calm sensible things she had been going to say and had instead said a great many things she had never meant to say at all. All the same she was still carried high on the tide of her rage as she turned into the gateway at her home, to find the Daimler standing in old-fashioned splendour before the door. She hadn’t been too sure what she was going to do next, but of one thing she was now certain, she wouldn’t be able to bear Lady Belway—and what was the old lady doing at her home anyway?
She switched the engine on again with the idea of taking the car somewhere quiet for an hour or so until the old lady should be gone, but in this she was frustrated by her mother, who appeared at the drawing room window and begged her to come inside at once. Even then Augusta hesitated, but when she saw her mother turn and speak to someone inside the room, she shrugged her shoulders, got out of the car and went slowly indoors.
Lady Belway seemed pleased to see her. ‘You passed us going into the village,’ she observed. ‘You’ve been to see dear Constantijn?’
Augusta took the tea her mother had poured and chose a chair with its back to the light. ‘Yes. What a delightful day—you must have enjoyed your drive down, Lady Belway?’ She spoke at random—anything to keep the conversation away from Constantijn.
But the old lady was not easily shaken off. ‘Briggs brought the Daimler down today—I came down with Constantijn yesterday, after Susan left—and the relief…’ She looked sharply at Augusta who had dropped her spoon and was taking a long time to pick it up. ‘You know about that, of course.’
She was momentarily diverted while Mrs Brown proffered cake, but returned at once to the attack. ‘I can’t understand why you are here, Augusta. Constantijn told me that you were on duty this weekend,’ she went on a little acidly. ‘He talked about you for the entire journey.’
‘Did he?’ Augusta tried to keep the bewilderment out of her voice. ‘I—I wonder why?’
Lady Belway gave a cackle of laughter. ‘My dear gal, what a ridiculous question!’
Augusta remained silent, trying to think of a way of finding out exactly what Lady Belway had meant about Susan. The faint doubt that she might have been a little hasty in her conclusions crossed her worried mind. After all, Constantijn, even if he hadn’t behaved quite like a man in love, hadn’t appeared in the least guilty or even uneasy. She threw a speaking glance across the room to her mother, who had taken no part in the conversation, but who now responded to her daughter’s look of entreaty and turned to her guest, saying persuasively:
‘You know, Lady Belway, I find it all so confusing about Susan, because I had no idea… I’ve never met her, of course, but Augusta has told me of her, and how disturbing for Constantijn as her guardian—that she should fall in love with one of his oldest friends—a married man too. Do you suppose there’s much harm done?’
Lady Belway, who had told the tale once, was only too glad to repeat herself, for it was something she would not be able to discuss outside the family, and after all the worry with dear Susan over the last few weeks, it was a relief to talk about it, and of course, since Constantijn was going to marry Augusta, she felt she might consider Mrs Brown as family—or nearly so.
‘I think not—owing, I must admit, to Constantijn’s handling of the whole unhappy affair. It is due to his discretion that there has been no inkling of gossip, and to his patience and good nature that Susan has come to her senses. What he said to persuade her I shall never know, nor is he likely to say what passed between himself and James—all I know is that James has gone back to that sweet wife of his and Susan has gone to Paris to stay with Huib and his wife. Constantijn is not a man to complain, but even he must have been severely tried by his trips to Cumbria, but of course he has always had a deep regard for Mary—James’ wife, you know—and he was prepared to do everything in his power to help her, even at the cost of his own private affairs.’ She paused for breath and looked across at Augusta, sitting so still that she appeared not to breathe. ‘I daresay you found it very tiresome, my dear, but of course you would understand that he had his duty to his ward and his friends, but I feel sure he made that plain.’
Augusta didn’t answer this remark. She got to her feet, banging her cup and saucer on the table in her hurry. ‘I have to go,’ she said, breathless. ‘Please excuse me—something—something I…’ She gave both ladies a smile of
such radiance that they blinked as she went from the room.
There was no traffic on the road this time. She made the short trip in record time, even for her, and brought the car to an untidy halt before Dr Soames’ front door. This time, however, she didn’t go in the surgery door but walked round the house until she came to the french windows standing open on to the garden. She hurried through them so clumsily that she stumbled a little as she finally came to a halt in the doctor’s consulting room. Constantijn was standing exactly as she had left him—she could hear the coins still jangling in his pockets, and the sound was so delightful that she closed her eyes for a moment with the sheer pleasure of it, but only for a moment.
He said genially, ‘Hullo, I thought you’d be back,’ and Augusta found this so unexpected that she asked ‘Why?’
‘My godmother is having tea with your mother; she considers you to be—er—one of the family—a sufficiently good reason for her to confide in your mother. She has, I feel sure, told you the whole story.’
Augusta nodded, then, ‘You knew I’d come back—were you so sure of me?’
He took his hands out of his pockets and stood erect, so that he seemed to tower over her. He said with tenderness, ‘No, my darling heart, but I thought that if I stayed exactly where I was and thought about you, you might think of me too, for after all, you are the other half of me, are you not, dear Roly?’
She smiled a little, feeling a warm glow of happiness welling up deep inside her. ‘What would you have done if I hadn’t come back?’
