by Betty Neels
She stroked his grubby head. ‘Of course, that’s your name—Meredith.’
There was a miserable little yard at the back of the flat where the tenants kept their dustbins and the patch of grass struggled to keep green. She opened the door in the tiny kitchen and he went outside but presently crept in again. She locked the door again, opened the small window beside it so that he could get in and out if he wished, put food down for him and wished him goodnight. She wasn’t very happy about the window but she wasn’t going to turn him out so late in the evening and the brick wall round the yard was very high.
The ward was busy the next day and take-in had started again. She had felt guilty at taking her day off during their busy week but it was Jenny’s weekend and she would probably be on duty for very long hours then. She was tired by the evening but she was free until Friday morning. She took the rest of her things to the flat, welcomed by Meredith, and then made up the bed, which pretended to be a divan during the day, cooked herself supper, fed the cat and sat down by the fire to make a list of the things she would need for the supper she had planned for the next day. That done, she turned the divan back into a bed again, had a shower in the cupboard-like apartment squeezed in between the kitchen and the back yard, and, well content, slept soundly with the cat Meredith, who had climbed cautiously on to the end of the bed.
Megan opened an eye as he wriggled into the blankets. ‘You need a good wash and brush-up,’ she muttered, and then slept again.
CHAPTER TWO
MEGAN got up early, for there was a lot to do. She breakfasted, fed Meredith, tidied her small home and went shopping. A bus took her to the Mile End Road, where she filled her basket and hurried back to the flat. The daffodils she had brought back with her had brightened up the rather dark room and there was a shaft of pale sunlight shining through its window. New curtains, she decided happily as she unpacked the basket, pale yellow and tawny, and some new lampshades instead of the rather severe ones Theatre Sister had favoured. They could wait for a few days; supper was what mattered. She made herself some coffee, buttered a roll, fed the cat again and found an old woolly scarf for him to sit on, then spread her shopping on the table in the tiny kitchen.
She chopped onions for the onion soup, peeled potatoes, cut up courgettes and carrots, trimmed lamb chops, got everything ready to make a baked custard and arranged the Brie and Stilton on a dish. Oscar would be off duty at six o’clock, which meant he would arrive half an hour later than that. She had plenty of time; she made a batch of cheese scones and put them in the oven, then went into the living-room to lay the table and light the fire, then, well satisfied with her efforts, she put on one of her pretty dresses and did her hair and face, made a cup of tea and ate one of the scones and then started to cook. The stove was adequate but there was very little room; it meant cooking the soup first so that there would be room for the other saucepans later. The chops she dressed with a few sprigs of rosemary and put into a warm oven while she made the custard and presently put that in the oven too. She hadn’t been sure which wine to buy so she had settled for a rosé and cans of beer; she should have bought a bottle of sherry, she thought worriedly, something she had quite forgotten, but going to look at the table once more she felt satisfied that the tiny room looked welcoming with its one shabby armchair by the fireplace with the table beside it. The rest of the room was more or less filled by the dining table under the window, the two chairs with it and the built-in cupboard and shelves along one wall. There was a padded stool and another small table by the divan and with the two lamps switched on the place looked almost cosy. She opened the kitchen window and let Meredith out, promising him his supper when he returned, then she went back to the stove. Oscar would be coming in half an hour or so and it was time to get the vegetables cooked.
Everything was just about ready by half-past six but there was no sign of Oscar; ten minutes went by and she was worrying about everything being overdone when the phone—a necessity laid on by the hospital only for theatre sisters—rang. Oscar sounded very cheerful. ‘Megan? Something’s come up—you won’t mind, will you, if I don’t come round? One of the housemen has just got engaged and we’re having a bit of a party.’
That was true enough; she could hear laughter and singing in the background and she could hear women’s voices, too. She reminded herself that there were several women doctors at Regent’s before she asked in what she hoped was a matter-of-fact voice if he was coming later.
‘Not a chance. We’ll be going strong for several hours yet.’ He chuckled in what she considered was an infuriating manner. ‘I’m glad I’m not on call.’
She boiled silently. ‘A pity—supper’s all ready…’
‘Put the baked beans back in the tin for next time,’ said Oscar.
That was a bit too much. She hung up.
The smells from the stove were mouthwatering. She turned off the gas and found that she was shaking with rage and disappointment. She would open the wine and drink the lot, she thought wildly, and was scarcely aware that there were tears running down her cheeks. She wiped them away furiously when there was a knock on the door; Oscar had come after all…she flung the door open and found Professor van Belfeld with the cat Meredith tucked under one arm, standing there.
He didn’t wait to be asked in but went past her and put the cat down on the divan. ‘He was at the end of the road, a cyclist came round the corner and knocked him down. I happened to be passing. I don’t think he’s injured, but if you like I’ll take a look.’
He glanced at her with casual swiftness so that she hoped he hadn’t seen the tears. ‘Oh, please—and thank you for rescuing him. I thought it quite safe in the yard. I’ll get a little towel…’
The professor took his time; Megan had the chance to wipe her tear-stained cheeks and blow her nose as soundlessly as possible. The only looking-glass was in the tiny shower-room and she had to trust to luck that she looked normal again. She made a mental note to acquire another for the kitchen as soon as possible. She didn’t look normal, she looked woebegone and red about her pretty nose, but the professor refrained from comment, merely remarked that the cat had no bones broken although he was probably badly bruised. He lifted him on to the scarf before the fire and stood up.
‘You’re expecting a guest. I’m sorry if I’ve held things up in the kitchen.’
‘It—it doesn’t matter—he’s not coming. Oscar—there’s a party at the hospital.’ Her lip quivered like a small girl’s. ‘I cooked supper and now there’s only me to eat it all.’ She gave a sniff and added, ‘So sorry…’
The professor took off his coat. ‘Would I do instead? Something smells delicious and I’m very hungry,’ and when she looked doubtful, ‘I had no lunch.’
‘Really? You’d like to stay? But haven’t you a home…?’
‘Yes, yes, of course I have, but there’s no one there this evening.’
He sounded very convincing and he didn’t spoil it by adding anything to that.
‘Well, it would be nice if you stayed. Will your car be all right outside?’
‘I left some boys on guard.’
‘Won’t they get cold?’
‘They’re sitting inside.’ He went to the table and picked up the wine. ‘If you have a corkscrew I’ll open this.’
She went back to the stove and turned the gas on again and presently served the soup. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t anything to offer you—no sherry or whisky—I’m not quite settled in yet.’
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‘This soup needs nothing. You made it yourself?’
‘Yes, I like cooking.’ It helped a lot to see the soup, so carefully made with its round of toast and parmesan cheese on top, being eaten with such enjoyment. The lamb chops were eaten too, washed down with the rosé, which the professor drank with every appearance of enjoyment. It was perhaps the first time in his life that he had drunk wine at three pounds twenty-five pence a bottle; the price had been on the cork and he suspected that she had chosen it because it was a pretty colour.
He laid himself out to be pleasant and she was surprised to discover that he was a good companion, not saying much and never raising his voice, but what he said was interesting and had nothing to do with hospital life. Here was a different man from the one who had stared down at the broken dish and raked her with such a cold blue gaze. She discovered suddenly that she was enjoying herself. The cheese and biscuits followed the chops and since there wasn’t much room to sit anywhere else they had their coffee at the table with the plate of cheese scones between them.
Thinking about it afterwards, Megan wasn’t sure what they had talked about; certainly she had learned nothing of the professor’s private life, as she hadn’t dared to ask questions and he had volunteered no information, although he had told her that he had a dog and a cat, but he had only mentioned them casually while he was taking another look at Meredith, lying at his ease before the fire, comfortably full of supper.
Much to her surprise, he had helped her wash up before he had thanked her quietly for his supper and a pleasant evening, not once saying a word about Oscar—she had been grateful for that—and then he had gone out to his car, sent the boys home gleefully clutching small change, and driven himself away, lifting a casual hand as he went.
There was no chance of seeing Oscar the next day. The usual spate of cases were warded and the ward was full again, and it was a good thing, Megan decided, for it would take her a day or two to get over her disappointment at Oscar’s casual treatment. It was two days later before she did see him on her way back from her midday dinner.
‘Sorry about the other evening, Megan,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I knew you would understand. How about tomorrow? I’m off in the evening unless there’s any kind of emergency.’
Megan mentally arranged the off duty. ‘No good—I’m on duty and I’ll be too tired even to open a can of beans.’ She gave him a brilliant smile. ‘Can’t stop—there’s a case going to Theatre. Bye.’
In her office she got out the off-duty book and went in search of Jenny. ‘I particularly want an afternoon off tomorrow; would you mind changing?’
Jenny was only too glad to agree and Megan sailed back to her office, feeling that at least she had got some of her own back. It wasn’t nice of her, she admitted to herself, and indeed she was a kind-hearted and thoughtful girl by nature, but Oscar had upset her, she had to admit, and had made her uneasy. It wasn’t as if they saw a great deal of each other, there was no question of that, and didn’t absence make the heart grow fonder? Or did it?
There was no sign of the professor, but that was quite normal; he seldom came on to the wards and when he did he wasted no time in conversation unless it was of a professional nature. It was quite by chance that she overheard Mr Bright telling Will Jenkins that the professor had gone off to Holland. ‘Won’t be back for a few days,’ grumbled Mr Bright, ‘but I suppose he wants to see his family from time to time.’
So he was married—the thought gave Megan the strange feeling that she had lost something.
Take-in finished and the ward reverted to its normal busy state, without the sudden upheavals of accident cases, and Megan, relenting, spent an evening with Oscar, having a meal at a quiet restaurant near Victoria Park. She enjoyed herself and Oscar was so nice that she felt mean about changing her off duty the week before and when he suggested that he might go to her home with her on her next free weekend she agreed happily.
‘I can get a weekend,’ he pointed out. ‘Heaven knows I’m due for one.’
‘That will be marvellous. Can we go home on Saturday morning and stay until Sunday evening?’
He saw her back to the flat and stayed for ten minutes or so. ‘Not much of a place, is it?’ he pointed out, and she tried not to mind that. She had the new curtains up and cushions to match, fresh flowers and her books on the bookshelves. Even the cat Meredith looked glossy and well fed. A sensible girl, she understood that to a man the flat appeared to lack the comfort and convenience of home, and she contented herself by telling him that she was very happy with it. ‘If I want to go to bed early I can,’ she explained. ‘At the nurses’ home there is always a good deal of noise and people popping in and out and playing their cassettes. You’d be surprised how quiet this street is.’
He laughed and kissed her. ‘Take care; you’ll be turning into a regular old maid unless you look out!’
‘That’s easily remedied. We could get married.’ She didn’t know why she had said that and she regretted it when she saw his frown.
‘Time enough to talk about that when I’ve finished here and applied for another post,’ he told her, and, because he saw that she was feeling awkward, added another kiss to the one that he had already given her.
Megan, left alone, turned the divan into a bed, put on a kettle for a cup of tea and brushed Meredith’s coat. He was filling out nicely and since his accident had prudently stayed in the back yard. He scoffed the saucer of milk she offered him now and composed himself for sleep before the fire, although the minute she turned out the light and got into bed he would creep stealthily on to the end of it and stay there all night.
It was several days later that she saw the professor again. She was going off duty after an exceptionally busy day and she was tired and cross and a little untidy. He and Mr Bright were standing in the entrance hall, deep in some discussion; Mr Bright looked up and called a cheerful, ‘Goodnight, Sister Rodner,’ and the professor looked at her too, rather as though he couldn’t remember where he had met her before, and gave a brief, abstracted nod. She went on her way, feeling put out; he had, after all, eaten a hearty supper at her invitation. She corrected that—his invitation; she hadn’t expected that it would lead to a closer relationship, he wasn’t close to anyone as far as she knew, but it merited a civil greeting.
She aired her views to Meredith as she got her supper. ‘Very rude,’ she told him as she stooped to set a saucer of food before him. ‘But perhaps he’s feeling homesick if he’s just back from Holland.’
She and Oscar were to go to her home at the weekend; she had seen him that morning and he had been eager to go. His enthusiasm had astonished and pleased her, for she knew what a lot of arranging had to be done before he could consider himself free for more than a day at a time. They could leave on Friday evening, he had suggested, and be there by ten o’clock, if that wasn’t too late for her parents, and she had agreed happily. Tomorrow she would have to find time to buy a cat basket. Meredith had stopped roaming the streets now that he had a good home but left on his own he might stray and she had got fond of him. A little fresh country air would do him good.
Friday began badly; she was entering the hospital when she saw the professor getting out of his car, near enough for them to have exchanged good-mornings, but she was still annoyed with him and swept through the door as though there was no one to be seen for miles around her. He followed her in an elegant, leisurely fashion, smiling a little. He didn’t smile a great deal and the head porter gave him a su
rprised look and observed to one of his underlings that Professor van Belfeld didn’t seem quite himself. ‘Something must ’ave shook ’im up,’ he added weightedly.
On the ward Megan found that the night had gone badly. A patient had fallen out of bed; no one’s fault but there needed to be a special report sent in, the medical houseman sent for to examine the lady and the nurses to reassure. It was a bad start to the day, although the patient, a stout lady who had rolled out of bed when she had turned over, had had no injury. Megan, coping with Authority, who wanted to know all about it, found her temper, usually calm, fraying badly. It frayed even more when Mr Bright, due for a ward-round, arrived half an hour late, so that dinners had to be kept hot while he went from bed to bed, taking his time. You would have thought, reflected Megan, seething with impatience, that the smell of fish, mingled with stewed beef and carrots, would help to remind him that the patients had to eat…
Oscar had said that he would be ready to leave by six o’clock and she was hard put to it to get off duty at her usual time. She didn’t go to her dinner, but made do with a sandwich and a cup of tea in her office, working through the afternoon so that when Jenny came on duty she was able to leave with an easy mind, hurry to the flat, change, stuff an indignant Meredith into his basket and collect her overnight bag before Oscar came to collect her.
Her mood improved when she saw him; he looked reassuringly ordinary, and obviously he was delighted at the idea of a weekend away from the hospital too. He stowed the cat on the back seat, put her bag in the boot and got in beside her, kissed her briefly and drove off.
‘We should get there well before ten o’clock,’ he told her. ‘Once we can get out of London we’ll use the motorway this time.’ He turned to smile at her. ‘It’s a lovely evening too.’
