by Betty Neels
The front hall was cool and quiet, with only the faintest hint of smoke. She went to the back of the hall and through the baize door which led to the kitchen quarters, cautiously opening doors as she went: still room, pantry, the butler's pantry, laundry room-getting smokier as she went. And when she opened the kitchen door it was to discover the place well alight.
It was frightening: oily smoke and little rivers of flame creeping along the walls. She went back to the laundry room and soaked a towel; she tried to tie it round her face and returned to have another look. The fire was now too big for buckets of water and wet blankets; it had reached the vast dresser, and as she looked a door beside it collapsed under the heat and the flames crept through to wherever was beyond.
Katrina nipped smartly back the way she had come and tried the door on the other side of the staircase. The passage beyond was full of smoke; it must lead to the kitchen too. She shut the door and saw Lady Truscott coming down the staircase. She had clearly dressed in a hurry and was wearing her bedroom slippers.
She hurried over to Katrina. `They tell me the kitchen's on fire. Why isn't someone putting it out? And I've people coming to dinner this evening. Where is the Fire Brigade? Where is Hysop?"
'He's gone to send the girl to warn the men in Long Meadow. The fire people have been alerted.' Katrina watched
smoke oozing under the door. `Lady Truscott, I think we should get the smaller furniture and pictures out of the house... and I can't find anything with which I can put the fire out.'
`Oh, one of those canister things? I did have some. Oh, dear, this is most upsetting.' She looked at Katrina. `Why are you here, Katrina?T
'I saw the smoke. Shall we start on the pictures...?"
'My jewels-the silver! Where is my maid?"
'Probably in your bedroom. If you go and find her I'll start on the dining room silver,' said Katrina, looking uneasily at the smoke, not wisps any more but thick ribbons of dark grey. There was a faint crackling sound too. She hoped that someone, preferably a dozen strong men who would know what to do, would come. In the meantime she must do her best...
Lady Truscott, calling for her maid, went upstairs, and Katrina went into the dining room. There were heavy silver candlesticks, an epergne, hefty silver salvers, and a vast tray on the sideboard. She lugged them out and laid them neatly on the gravel sweep before the house. She knew from previous visits that some of the pictures were valuable, so she carried those out too, and was staggering out of the front door with a hideous ormulu clock when help arrived-the first of the men from the hayfield and at the same time two boys from the village. There were more on the way, they told Katrina, and started carrying out the dainty Regency chairs guests were terrified of sitting on because they were so frail.
Two things happened then: the Fire Brigade arrived and one of the boys fell against the door beside the staircase. It gave way under him and he tumbled through into the smokefilled passage beyond. By now the place was full of people, and the only person to see him was Katrina. She called to several people around her but there was too much confusion. She dragged a cloth off the table nearby, soaked it in a bucket of water some well-meaning helper had brought with him, and wrapped it round her face. The cloth was one of Lady Truscott's most prized possessions-something to do with the Duke of Wellington, she always told everyone who asked not that that bothered Katrina. It was wet and it offered some protection.
The boy was sprawled on the floor not far from the door, which was a good thing for the smoke was thinner there. He wasn't unconscious, only dazed and unable for the moment to help himself. Katrina hauled him back into the hall, fetched the bucket of water, propped him against the wall and splashed some of it on to him. There were people milling all around them, and she tugged at trouser legs until a man stopped and looked down.
Katrina got to her feet. `He fell through the door. He's OK, but could someone look after him?'
`Leave 'im with me, miss. You're OK, are you? Miss Gibbs, ain't it, from Rose Cottage?"
'Yes, I'm fine. I'll go home now; there are more than enough helpers here.'
The professor was sitting in Theatre Sister's office with his registrar and Maureen. The list had been heavy and he leaned now against the radiator, listening to Maureen and Sister chatting idly while they drank their coffee. Presently he would go and see his patients, give instructions to the faithful registrar and take himself off home. Hopefully the weekend would be free of emergencies and he could take his ease. And go and see Katrina.
The phone rang and Sister answered it and handed the phone to Maureen. `For you, Miss Soames, an outside call.'
Whoever it was had a great deal to say, and Maureen's face, from one of polite enquiry, turned to concern.
She kept that look on her face while she thought rapidly. She didn't waste much thought on the fire, or her aunt's concern-the damage didn't sound too bad and no one was hurtbut she saw at once how she could turn it to her advantage. She lifted eyes brimming with tears to Sister. `My aunt's house is on fire. She's safe but they're trying to save the furniture. She's distraught and there's no one there-no family.' She turned back to the phone. `I'm coming, Auntie,' she said, in a voice shaky enough to arouse sympathy in her companions. `Just as soon as I can.'
She put down the receiver and turned to the professor. `I must go to her, sir. I'm on call for the weekend, I know, but if someone could take over just while I go and see what's happening, I'll come back the moment I've made sure that my aunt will be all right.'
`Of course you must go. Your aunt has friends to whom she might go if she needs to?"
'Yes, yes, of course. But at the weekend so many of them are away.' That sounded feeble even in her ears; there were any number of people in the village willing to help in a time of need. She managed to squeeze out a tear and gave a small sob which she bravely choked back.
A splendid performance, thought the registrar sourly, and watched Sister sigh with sympathy. He watched the professor too, waiting.
`I'll drive you down.' The professor glanced at his watch. `If need be you can stay there overnight and come back here as soon as possible on Sunday.'
Maureen made a show of hesitating. `But I'm upsetting your weekend, and someone will have to stand in for me.'
The professor put down his mug. `Go and get ready. I'll be at the entrance in twenty minutes or so. I'll see about your replacement.'
Maureen smiled bravely. `Oh, thank you. I'm so very grateful."
What a chance, she reflected as she changed into a linen two-piece the colour of her eyes and went to work on her face. Once they were there she must contrive to keep him there for as long as possible-overnight, perhaps. She stuffed things into a shoulder bag and went down to the entrance.
She had kept him waiting for more than ten minutes, but he said nothing, only ushered her into the car and drove off, listening with half an ear as she enlarged about her aunt's phone call while he thought about Katrina. He would take Maureen to the Manor and then go and see Katrina. It was still only late afternoon; they would have the evening together, and on Sunday he would fetch her to spend the day at his home. It's an ill wind, he thought, and wished that Maureen would stop talking.
But it was too good an opportunity to be missed, and she exerted all her charm, contriving to give the impression of a girl who, however good she was at her job, still needed the care and protection of a man...
When they arrived at the Manor the fire was smouldering, but contained. Half the village were there, running to and fro, carrying out rugs and furniture in danger of being damaged by water and smoke. Lady Truscott was sitting beside the sweep before the house, and the professor could see that she was by no means without help and comfort; he hadn't realized that Maureen was so devoted to her. He parked the car and they went over to speak to her.
She began to talk at once, but Maureen interrupted her. `Aunt, Professor Glenville drove me down. I'm sure you can offer him dinner and have him stay the night...?'
&nb
sp; Before she could reply, the professor said, in a voice which would brook no argument, `Thank you, but I must return at once. I'm glad to see that you are unhurt and being looked after, Lady Truscott.' He turned to Maureen. `You'll come back on duty as soon as you can?' He glanced round him. `There are plenty of helpers; I see they are already beginning to take things back inside the house.'
He wished them goodbye and went back to his car. On his way he stopped several times, asking the same question: had Miss Gibbs been seen there, and if so was she still in the house, helping?
It was only when he questioned a fourth man that he had his answer.
`Miss Katrina? She's been here, all right. The first to come, so I hear. She got things organised a bit-went back in to pull a boy out of the place too. Gone ' ome, she 'as. Looked fair done up, too.'
The professor thanked him, got into his car and drove to Rose Cottage. He went up the path to its half-open door and went in without knocking.
There was no one in the living room, but Katrina was in the kitchen, sitting at the table. She was smoke-grimed, with a dirty face, the heirloom cloth still on the top of her bedraggled hair. Her dress was singed and there were scratches on her arms. Not a pretty sight, and yet to the professor she was all that was most beautiful.
She looked up as he went in. She said the first thing which entered her head.
`Would you feed Betsy? There's a tin...'
He saw to the little cat's needs without fuss, then he came to the table, plucked her gently from her chair and held her close. `Are you hurt?'
Her voice was muffled by his shoulder. `No, just scratched a bit-so silly!'
She was weeping now, and he let her sob and sniff for a few minutes, then said, `Go and have a warm bath. Don't bother to dress again. I'll put on the kettle, and we'll have a cup of tea together and you shall tell me exactly what happened.'
He sounded soothing and kind, like an uncle or a big brother, she thought confusedly, and when he said, `Run along now,' she went upstairs and had a bath and washed her hair. Presently she went back downstairs, smelling of shampoo and soap and wrapped in a dressing gown-a useful garment totally without glamour.
The professor had made the tea. He had made a plate of buttered toast too and set it tidily on the table. He pulled out a chair for her and moved around the kitchen as though he had lived there all his life, opening cupboards until he found
a pot of jam. He put that on the table too, and sat down opposite her, pouring the tea and putting toast on a plate for her. He hadn't said anything but his silence was restful, and she had the feeling that she was wrapped around by caring comfort. She took a sip of tea.
`I'm sorry you walked into such a mess,' she said. `I was a bit tired... Did you know that there had been a fire at the Manor?"
'Yes, nothing too serious, I understand, and plenty of help. How came you to be there?'
He offered her the toast, took a piece himself and took a large bite.
She told him about it in a matter-of-fact way. `Of course it was awkward as Lady Truscott was in the bath and had no one there but her maid and the butler. I'm glad the damage wasn't too great; it's such a nice old house.'
They had more tea and he got up and came round to sit on the table beside her. `I'll take a look at those scratches. You weren't burnt at all? Didn't breathe in any smoke?"
'They're only small scratches. I did get a few mouthfuls of smoke but I was sick on the way back here. I feel better now.'
`And the boy you pulled out of the passage, was he all right?"
'Oh, how did you know about him? I think he was all right; he was breathing normally and someone was looking after him.' She frowned. `Perhaps I should have stayed...'
`It was brave of you to haul him out. You could just as easily have shouted to one of the men to go after him.',
`Oh, yes, well, I didn't think of that.'
He smiled. `No, I don't suppose you did. Don't move; I'm going to see to the worst of the scratches.'
He had brought his bag in with him and he dealt with her small hurts and bruises.
`Do I still smell smoky?' asked Katrina.
Her still damp hair got in his way and he drew it aside.
She smelled sweet, like a small child, he thought. He said quietly, `No, not so much as a whiff.'
He wanted very much to sweep her into his arms and kiss her, but, Katrina being Katrina, he knew that would be a mistake. He went back to his side of the table.
`Now that Mrs Ward and Tracey have gone I expect you are able to enjoy a social life?'
He spoke casually, friendly and impersonal, so that she felt at ease with him and answered him readily.
`Well, I see more of my friends-tennis mostly-and of course I see Dr Peters and his wife quite often...'
`No dining and dancing?' he asked lightly.
`No.' And in case he should feel sorry for her she added, `There's a lot to do in the garden at this time of year.' Wishful to change the subject, she asked, `Have you come to see Dr Peters? Mrs Peters was saying the other day that she hoped you would go and see them when you were free.'
`I drove Maureen Soames down. She had a phone call from her aunt. She was very upset to hear about the fire and felt that she must be with her. In fact the situation isn't as bad as they thought it would be, and since she's on duty this weekend there's no need for her to stay here.'
There was ice spreading in Katrina's insides where there had been a comfortable glow from the professor's presence. She said in a stiff little voice, `It must have been upsetting news for her. I'm sure Lady Truscott was glad to see her. It was very kind of you to come and see me. I hope your evening hasn't been spoilt. Don't let me keep you from what there is left of it.'
The professor frowned, hearing the sudden change in her voice. Katrina had pokered up and he wondered why. Probably she was tired and was longing for her bed. Obviously she wished him gone.
He took the mugs to the sink, saying casually, `Well, I'll be off. A good night's sleep will put you back to rights. Take care of yourself, Katrina.'
She had the feeling that perhaps she had dismissed him too abruptly.
`You're going back to London this evening?'
`My dear girl, you should know by now we medical men and women are always ready to answer the call of duty.'
His smile was mocking. He added, `Don't get up, I'll see myself out. Take care of yourself.'
Driving back to London, he reflected that he was making no progress with Katrina; he was too old for her, and what he had hoped would become a warm friendship, and even more than that, hadn't materialised. He had made it plain to her that he had fallen in love with her but had no intention of doing more about it until she was ready. And she had been happy about that, he was quite sure-but now perhaps she had had second thoughts. He had no intention of giving up. He would give her a few days and then go and see her again. He loved her, and he felt in his bones that hidden in her heart was her love for him.
Katrina went to bed, conscious of the emptiness now that Simon had gone. Somehow or other she must find a way of stopping him from coming to see her. He was doing it from kindness, but his visits merely served to make it harder for her to forget him. She had thought after their day together that he was letting her see that he had fallen in love with her, but she must have been mistaken.
`Wishful thinking,' she told Betsy, making ready for church in the morning.
There were rather more people in church than usual, not so much to give thanks for the saving of the Manor House from destruction as to glean any interesting details about it from other members of the congregation. After the service, progress from the church and through the churchyard was slow while those with snippets of information imparted them to friends. Lady Truscott had been in church, and so, to Katrina's surprise, had Maureen. Surely she should have gone back with
Simon? Not that it was any business of hers, Katrina told herself loftily, making her way through the porch, to be stopped by the vicar.
'Katrina, I hear that you acted with your usual good sense yesterday. I'm sure that Lady Truscott must feel most grateful, Ah, here she is, no doubt to echo my words.'
Lady Truscott was rather enjoying herself. She wasn't exactly a heroine, but she was certainly a figure of interest for the whole village. She said as she joined Katrina and the vicar, `My dear, I wanted to see you and thank you. From all accounts you were splendid, organising things. Such a pity that I was in my bath.' She gave a trill of laughter. `And fire or no fire I had to get dressed, otherwise I would have been on the spot to organise things myself. So sensible of you to get the silver and the pictures out of the house.' She patted Katrina's arm. `You're dear aunt all over again, my dear.'
Maureen had joined them. She and Katrina exchanged hellos, and Katrina saw the dislike in the other girl's eyes.
