Heidelberg Wedding

by Betty Neels

  ‘I shall scrub for it, I expect.’ She glanced at Mr Grenfell, who nodded slightly. ‘I feel rather an interloper, but I expect it saves time—Mr Grenfell does have his own way of doing things.’

  She blushed a little as she caught Mr Grenfell’s amused eye. ‘How nicely put,’ he observed. ‘Frau Sauer, may we go somewhere for a few minutes and hear what Doctor Schwarz has to say about your husband?’ He added: ‘You too, Eugenia.’

  They were ushered into a small room off the hall and sat down round a carved table. The two men talked for some time and Eugenia listened, only speaking when she was required to do so. They might have been on the ward, she mused; Mr Grenfell had become remote and thoughtful, his mind bent on the problems ahead of him. Finally they had agreed upon their procedure and Mr Grenfell had addressed her. ‘Nursing duties will be sorted out when we’ve seen Herr Sauer, Eugenia. I should like you to come with us now.’

  The patient, enthroned in a massive bed in an enormous room with enormous furniture, was indeed an ill man. At one time he must have been stout and well built, but now he looked nothing much more than a bag of bones. But Eugenia knew that bags of bones were by no means hopeless cases, however awful they looked—the right treatment given in time and they filled out nicely and resumed their lives, perhaps not quite as energetically as formerly, but at least there was a future for them.

  She stood quietly by while Doctor Schwarz introduced Mr Grenfell and, after a few minutes’ talk, herself. Herr Sauer spoke English very well, he even cracked a joke: ‘I was beginning to think of angels, but I see that they are here as well as in heaven.’

  They all laughed a little, and Eugenia blushed and tried to look severe.

  ‘She may look like an angel,’ observed Mr Grenfell, ‘but I can assure you she’s a martinet in her own field. You’ll be in very safe hands, Herr Sauer.’

  And after that he got down to business. The examination took a long time and there were X-rays to study, all the various tests to discuss with Doctor Schwarz.

  They left their patient presently and Eugenia was left to get to know the nurse who had been living in the house for the past week or so. Not young any more, but pleasant-faced and placid and able to speak some English. She seemed glad to see Eugenia, too, and told her with something of a twinkle that their patient was at times very difficult. ‘Of course he is a sick man,’ she conceded, ‘but two nurses have left already. I hope you will stay at least until he has recovered from the operation.’

  Eugenia assured her that she would. ‘Anyway, I couldn’t go even if I wanted to; you see, Mr Grenfell is used to me looking after his patients and I know more or less all he wants done.’

  She changed into uniform presently and went with Schwester Bonn to settle Mr Sauer for the night, and when that was done she was asked to go to the small room off the hall where Mr Grenfell was waiting for her.

  ‘I’m going to operate at eight o’clock the day after tomorrow, so get all the prepping done, will you? I shall want you in Theatre. We’ll go down to the hospital in the morning and you can meet everyone. Mr Sauer will stay in hospital for four or five days, perhaps longer, then come back here with two nurses—one of them will be you, of course. Be ready to stay for two weeks, Eugenia. A third nurse will join you for the second week so that you can phase out gradually. Anything you want to know?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, thank you—oh, yes. When will Mr Sauer go to the hospital?’

  ‘Tomorrow afternoon, and you with him, of course. That should give you time to make sure you have everything you may need. Oh, and check my instruments over, will you?’

  ‘Very well, Mr Grenfell. At what time do you want to take me to the hospital in the morning?’

  ‘Nine o’clock.’ He smiled at her and her heart turned over. ‘Worried?’

  ‘No, not at all. At least, I shall be if I can’t make myself understood.’

  ‘Don’t worry, everyone on the case speaks English.’

  Eugenia spent the rest of the evening going over the case with Schwester Bonn, got up early to attend to her patient’s wants, and presented herself exactly at nine o’clock, spick and span in her uniform, in the hall where Mr Grenfell was waiting.

  The hospital was modern and well equipped. She was taken to Theatre and allowed to roam around, getting to know where everything was, while Mr Grenfell talked to the anaesthetist and Theatre Sister.

  ‘You don’t mind me taking over?’ ventured Eugenia when the men went away and left them together.

  ‘No, not at all, Sister Smith…’

  ‘Call me Eugenia, please.’

  ‘Eugenia. It saves much time and temper if the surgeon has his own nurse with him, otherwise much time is lost explaining—and in another language too. There is a room ready for you, and we hope that you will be happy with us.’

  Eugenia beamed at her. ‘Oh, I shall, though I’ll be busy for a day or two. Who have I got to help me?’

  She went back with Mr Grenfell, satisfied that everything that could have been done to make the operation a success had been dealt with.

  The rest of the day was taken up with preparations for the following morning and she didn’t see Mr Grenfell again, nor, for that matter, Frau Sauer, as she and Schwester Bonn had their meals brought to them in a small room leading off their patient’s bedroom. And the following morning she needed all her wits about her. Herr Sauer, ill though he was, made everything as difficult as possible, and she heaved a sigh of relief when he was stowed in the ambulance and she beside him.

  It was still very early. She had done all she could at his home, but at the hospital there were still a number of tasks to do before eight o’clock. At a quarter to the hour she left him in Schwester Bonn’s hands, and went to the theatre wing to scrub. The theatre had been readied, but there were still Mr Grenfell’s own instruments to set out. She had arranged the last of these to her liking when the door opened and the patient was wheeled in, and a few minutes later Mr Grenfell, flanked by his assistants, came in.

  The operation was a success, something she had never doubted. When it was over she divested herself of her theatre gown and cap and went along to her patient’s room to take over from Schwester Bonn. There was still a long way to go till the end of the day, but she wasn’t in the least tired; there was too much to do.

  She set about her tasks serenely, confident and meticulous. When Mr Grenfell joined her she handed him the chart and the observation sheets, then went to stand beside him as he bent over his patient.

  He straightened up presently. ‘So far so good. I want to know of any change immediately, Eugenia. You’re prepared to stay until late this evening?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Grenfell. How can I reach you?’

  ‘I’ll be here. You’re sleeping here, of course?’

  ‘Yes, they’ll call me if I’m needed. Will Frau Sauer be visiting?’

  ‘Not until this evening.’ He nodded and went away, to reappear at intervals during the day.

  Herr Sauer was tough. Towards evening, conscious for a short space, he said in a wispy voice: ‘How long do I have to put up with these tubes?’ He frowned. ‘And this oxygen…’

  ‘A day or so,’ said Eugenia soothingly. ‘They’re important to your recovery, so bear with them.’

  With the help of a nurse, she had sat him up against his pillows. ‘Would you like a drink?’

  He had had his drink and another injection and slept again until his wife slipped in with Mr Grenfell behind her. He opened his eyes then and smiled at her. ‘I’ll be home in a few days,’ he told her.

  And he was. Eugenia, making him comfortable in a chair in his bedroom, thanked heaven fervently that his recovery had been so uneventful; none of the complications which might have occurred had reared their ugly heads. True, he had been one of the worst patients she had ever had to deal with; irascible, finicky with his food, refusing to have certain nurses to attend to him, so that she found herself doing long hours. But it had been worth it. Here he was, back h
ome, and with Schwester Bonn installed to share duties with her she could hope for a little leisure. There were still four days before the stitches were to be taken out, presumably they would return home shortly after that. She fetched his books and papers and put the telephone where he could reach it, then sat down at the table in one of the windows to bring her charts up to date. She had just finished when Mr Grenfell came in. She had seen him every day, of course, but never to talk to, only to receive instructions and give him reports on the patient, but now, when he had studied the papers she handed him, he paused.

  ‘You’ve had a tough few days,’ he observed. ‘Herr Sauer is fit to be left with Schwester Bonn for a few hours. Take the morning duty, and see that you’re free at noon for the rest of the day.’

  Eugenia lifted tired eyes to his. ‘Well, I would like that very much if no one minds. They were awfully good at the hospital; I got out most days for an hour.’

  ‘I know, we’ll be here for several days. I phoned your father during the week.’

  ‘You did?’ She smiled widely at him. ‘How kind of you! I told him I’d be too busy to write.’

  Mr Grenfell nodded. ‘He sent his love, so did the twins.’ He turned away. ‘Frau Sauer wants to sit for an hour or so with her husband—he’s rested enough?’

  ‘Yes. They’ll want to be alone?’

  ‘Yes. The gardens are charming if you want a stroll without going too far.’ He nodded briefly as he went.

  Eugenia told Herr Sauer later on about her half day, and he patted her hand and said gruffly: ‘Yes, Mr Grenfell told me, you deserve it, Eugenia. We’re grateful, my wife and I. Enjoy yourself. Go to the Castle—it’s worth a visit, perhaps more than one.’

  Schwester Bonn came on duty very punctually. Eugenia was in her room by midday, tearing out of uniform, showering and getting into a cotton jersey dress. It was a gorgeous day, and she couldn’t wait to get out into the sun. Lunch could wait; she would find a café somewhere and have a sandwich. She slung her bag over her shoulder and hurried downstairs. She was crossing the hall when Frau Sauer came out of the dining room. ‘You will have a beautiful day, I hope. When you come back, ask for anything you want; Karl will attend to it.’

  Eugenia thanked her politely. She intended to stay out just as long as possible, but perhaps she might be glad of coffee when she got back. She tried not to look too eager as she went through the door and down the steps. Mr Grenfell was sitting on the bottom one. He got up as she came to a halt beside him.

  ‘I thought we might go up to the Castle. There’s a restaurant just outside the gates, we can have something to eat and then explore. I’ve been lent a car.’

  ‘Have you?’ asked Eugenia faintly. ‘How nice. But I’m quite all right on my own—’

  ‘You’ve said that before, or don’t you remember? Besides, I want to talk to you.’ He marched her across the gravel sweep to a BMW sports coupé and shoved her gently into it. ‘It’s not far,’ he observed as he got in beside her.

  It was a very brief drive; he parked the car and ushered her into the restaurant, translated the menu and then sat back in his chair.

  ‘You’ll be glad to get back to St Clare’s?’ he asked idly.

  ‘No,’ said Eugenia baldly. ‘I think—I’m almost sure that I’ll leave St Clare’s.’

  Mr Grenfell took a pull at his lager. ‘That sounds like a sensible idea. Any plans?’

  She said woodenly: ‘None—I daresay I’ll think of something.’ A pity she couldn’t think of anything else to say, but he didn’t appear to notice. They talked about their patient after that, a nice safe topic which took them through lunch and out into the sunshine again.

  ‘Down here,’ said Mr Grenfell, leaving the car where it was and starting to walk down a narrow lane and in through wide gates.

  Just for a little while Eugenia forgot that she was unhappy; there was so much to see and he was the perfect companion. ‘We won’t try to see everything today,’ he said, ‘but there’s something that might interest you.’

  They went past a large stone arch, and when Eugenia paused to look at it, she was told it had been built in one night as a birthday present from Elector Friedrich the Fifth for his wife, Elizabeth Stuart.

  ‘He must have loved her,’ she observed, ‘although a gate seems overdoing it a bit.’

  ‘You would rather have pearls or a sable wrap?’

  ‘Heavens, no—if someone loves you a bunch of roses would be ample proof.’

  ‘I must remember that. This tower is called Dicker Turm.’ He walked her past that, past what had once been the kitchens, past a vast frontage almost destroyed by lightning and still used for exhibitions, and then through an open door. They were in a chapel, its walls covered by various arms, a magnificent altar at its end.

  ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ asked Mr Grenfell. ‘You may not know that anyone who wishes can be married here. One merely arranges with the appropriate clergy, pays a fee of a hundred and fifty pounds and—er—ties the matrimonial knot.’

  He had spoken casually, but his eyes were intent on her face.

  Eugenia, who had stifled so many daydreams while she had been engaged to Humphrey, was having one at that very moment; arm in arm with Gerard, walking down the aisle towards a shadowy figure in clerical robes. She was roused from it by Mr Grenfell’s voice. ‘You like the idea?’

  ‘Yes, oh, yes…’

  ‘Tulle and roses and bridesmaids?’ He sounded mocking and she said hastily:

  ‘They don’t matter…’

  ‘But if you’d married Humphrey they would have mattered.’

  She flushed a little. ‘Yes—at least his mother expected…’

  He made an impatient sound and she walked away from him, down the aisle towards the altar. ‘All wood,’ said Mr Grenfell, ‘magnificently painted,’ and then: ‘You’re silent. Why?’

  She was looking away from him. ‘I was thinking about the people who marry here.’

  ‘And wishing you were one of them.’ His tone was sharp.

  ‘Well, I daresay most girls would—girls are romantic, you know.’

  ‘And so,’ said Mr Grenfell deliberately, ‘are men, believe it or not! I’m of the opinion that when a man loves a woman he’ll do his utmost to make her happy.’

  He must be thinking of Miriam, she thought wistfully, although it was difficult to imagine him being besotted by anyone, but then she really didn’t know him very well. At least, she knew him through and through because she loved him, but that was a different sort of knowing. She glanced at him and the expression on his face made her ask: ‘Why do you look like that?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Smug! As though you’d thought of something nice.’

  ‘Nice, nice—what an inadequate word, rather let’s say shatteringly delightful!’

  It seemed unlikely, just looking at his bland face, but perhaps he was having daydreams too about Miriam. She ventured timidly, quite unlike her usual calm self. ‘Perhaps you would like to get married here?’

  ‘That,’ he said, still smug, ‘is exactly what I have in mind.’ He took her arm. ‘Let’s explore further.’

  They wandered round, gazing at the Queen’s House, the library, the Chemist’s Tower, the Gate Tower, peering at stone statues and beautiful stonework and presently going down to the cellars to climb up and around the largest vat in the world.

  ‘The grounds,’ declared Mr Grenfell, ‘are not to be missed.’ He strode off, taking Eugenia with him, and she duly admired the splendid view from the terrace. ‘You’re not bored?’ he asked her suddenly.

  ‘Good gracious, no, I’ve never had such a marvellous day.’

  ‘Good. We’ll go back to the car and drive up to the restaurant at the top of the hill.’ He gave her time to buy picture postcards on their way up the lane and lent her his pen so that she could write them and post them at once. She made her messages very brief in case he got impatient.

  At the car she paused. ‘Shouldn’t I be getti
ng back?’ she asked.

  ‘No, there’s a nurse coming to relieve Schwester Bonn for the night. You’ll go on duty again at seven o’clock tomorrow morning.’

  ‘I wasn’t told,’ she began haughtily.

  He stuffed her into the car. ‘No need. Anyway, I’ve told you now, haven’t I?’

  The view from the balcony of the restaurant was superb; their table was at its edge and Eugenia leaned her elbows on the balustrade and looked her fill. The wooded country sloped away towards the castle and the town below and then rose again in the distance. She said: ‘I expect you travel quite a bit…’

  ‘Indeed, yes, I can hardly avoid it. You like it here?’

  ‘Yes, very much. Now that Herr Sauer is convalescing and I can have off duty I intend to explore.’

  ‘There’s a great deal more of the Castle to see.’

  ‘I’ll find time to come again.’ She poured their tea and looked askance at the enormous chocolate and cream confection put before her.

  ‘When in Rome…’ advised Mr Grenfell. ‘The Germans have a great liking for rich cakes.’

  So they ate their cakes and talked about nothing much, and presently he said: ‘There are some pleasant walks about here. Shall we try one?’

  They strolled along in companionable silence, occasionally making desultory conversation, until Eugenia said uneasily: ‘I really ought to go back.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s past six.’

  ‘Don’t fuss. Are you bored with my company?’

  ‘Certainly not, it’s—I—that is…’ She stopped herself from saying what she longed to say.

  Mr Grenfell seemed to find her muddled reply quite satisfactory. ‘Good. Let’s walk back and have dinner, then.’

  They dined in the restaurant, already half filled, at a table by the window, its pink-shaded candle casting a charming glow over Eugenia’s face. She was unaware of what she ate, just for a time she was a happy girl; no future, no past, just the wonderful present. They lingered over the meal; it was past nine o’clock by the time they left the restaurant and strolled to where the car was parked. It was still gloaming and they paused to watch the lights of Heidelberg far below and the faint glint of the river.