by Betty Neels
She led the way into the house. ‘You surely don’t have to go straight back?’
He smiled down at her. ‘No, Mrs Rodner.’
‘Splendid, stay for lunch. Megan can take you for a good walk before tea. I don’t suppose it takes you long to get back to London in that car of yours?’
He glanced at Megan, standing silent. ‘If we leave here by eight o’clock we can be at Regent’s by Megan’s bedtime. But I came unexpectedly; you may have to do something else. I had intended to come back for Megan this evening.’
‘Nonsense—a day in the country will do you a great deal of good—unless you have something better to do in London?’
Her tone implied that there was nothing better to do there.
‘You’re very kind, but what has Megan to say to that?’
She had been well brought up and her manners were nice, so she said now, ‘I’m sure that a quiet day here will do the professor good.’ She looked at him then. ‘It’s very kind of you to drive me back this evening.’
Mrs Rodner, bustling out to the kitchen to fetch the coffee, smiled to herself.
‘Where’s Melanie?’ asked Megan presently. They were in the drawing-room, the rather thin sunlight streaming in through the old-fashioned french windows.
‘Friday, dear,’ reminded her mother, ‘doing the flowers at the church. She’ll be back as soon as she can. I did tell you that she and Oscar are going to see his parents next weekend?’
Megan went a little pale but her voice was steady. ‘I do hope Mrs Fielding likes her, though I don’t see how she could help herself. Does Melanie want to spend the night before they go?’
‘I believe that Oscar’s worked out an easy route from here—he’ll collect her on the way.’ Her mother turned to the professor. ‘Do you like living in England, Professor? Your English is so perfect I keep forgetting that you’re Dutch. Do you go home often?’
‘Oh, frequently. I’m fond of the country here, though, and I’ve spent a good deal of time here and it’s so easy to go to and fro.’
‘Are you a pathologist there as well?’
‘Yes, in a consultant capacity just as I am at Regent’s.’
‘You must lead a busy life.’ She looked at Megan. ‘Megan leads a busy life too, too busy I sometimes think. She needs a change.’
Megan choked over her coffee. Two people within a couple of hours wanting her to alter her life; it just needs one more, reflected Megan, and I might be convinced.
Mrs Rodner got up. ‘Well, my dears, I’m going to see to lunch. No, Meg, I don’t want any help but you could go down to the village and see if Mrs Slocombe has got any of those nice cheese biscuits, and you might collect Melanie on the way back.’
At the door she paused. ‘Take the professor with you, Meg; he may like to see the village.’
‘Perhaps you’d rather sit in the garden,’ suggested Megan.
Sounding his most bland, the professor pointed out that he had been sitting in the car all morning. ‘Exercise will be good for both of us,’ he observed in a reasonable voice which she suspected hid amusement.
The village was ten minutes’ walk away, a pretty walk along a leafy lane with fields on either side of it, alive with sheep and their lambs.
‘Delightful,’ commented the professor, standing still and taking deep breaths into his massive chest. ‘Have you no dog?’
‘Janus—he’s with Father. Melanie wants a puppy but if she is to be married soon she would want to take it with her. Mother would like one but she thought she had better wait until Melanie has gone.’
‘What kind of a dog?’ he asked idly.
‘We had a spaniel. She was a darling, we called her Flossy, but it had better be another kind so as not to remind us too much of her.’
‘Of course.’ They had reached the village, crossed the green and stopped outside Mrs Slocombe’s shop. It was the post office as well and served as an information centre concerning the gossip, scandal and goings-on in the village. ‘I dare say you’d rather wait outside,’ said Megan, knowing that the sight of them together would give the village a chance to freshen up the various rumours going around about her engagement to Oscar being at an end. However, he took no notice, despite the fact that the shop was fairly full. He opened the door and its old-fashioned bell announced their arrival to several pairs of sharp ears and eyes.
There was a chorus of good-mornings while the professor was thoroughly looked over. ‘On holiday, Miss Megan?’ asked Mrs Slocombe, abandoning her weighing of a pound of prunes for the wife of the gardener up at the Manor House.
‘No, no, Mrs Slocombe, just a day off.’
‘Brought a friend with you, have you, love?’
‘Someone from the hospital has been kind enough to give me a lift.’
Mrs Slocombe finished with the prunes. ‘That’s nice,’ she commented, and the ladies in the shop murmured a chorus of agreement, still staring at the professor, who stood smiling at everyone, completely at his ease.
‘Happen you’re in a bit of a hurry, Miss Megan, seeing as it’s only a day, like. I’m sure Mrs Thomson won’t mind if I serve you right away.’
‘That’s very kind. Mother wondered if you had any of those cheese biscuits she usually has.’ Megan flushed a little and the flush deepened when she heard the professor replying to Mrs Thomson’s remark about the lovely spring they were having. She knew it wouldn’t stop there and it didn’t; Mrs Thomson enquired archly where he came from, and, when he said placidly, ‘I’m from Holland,’ drew in her breath with a hiss of interest everyone else could hear.
‘Fancy that, now; just on a visit, I dare say?’
He assured her in equable tones that he lived in London for a good deal of the year. ‘Well, I never,’ declared Mrs Thomson. ‘So of course you know our Miss Megan.’
‘Indeed I do.’
‘Staying for lunch, I dare say,’ said the nosy lady. ‘Came in a car, I expect.’
‘Yes. This village is off the beaten track, is it not? Such a charming place.’
Mrs Slocombe had taken as long as possible to find the biscuits and put them in a bag; she took even longer to give Megan her change.
Megan thanked her politely, wished everyone there good day and was ushered out of the shop by an attentive professor. The door wasn’t quite closed when she heard the spate of gossip.
‘I did ask you if you wanted to stay outside,’ she said crossly. ‘It’s only a very small village and everyone knows everyone else’s business and makes up the rest.’
‘But we have nothing to hide,’ he pointed out blandly, and took the biscuits from her, put a hand under her elbow and steered her towards the church.
‘That isn’t what I meant,’ snapped Megan, and when he laughed softly she said, ‘Oh, do be serious…’
He stopped in the middle of the green, in full view of anyone who might be watching them. ‘My dear Megan, don’t be peevish and spoil my day. So far I have enjoyed every minute of it.’
She wouldn’t look at him but marched into the church with her head held so high that she didn’t look where she was going and tripped over a heap of greenery. The professor set her back on her feet with an infuriating, ‘Tut, tut,’ and remarked, ‘There is Melanie. Do you suppose that she is ready?’
There was no need to answer him, for she came dancing towards them, not minding the various people, including the vicar’s wife, who turned to stare at the newcomers. Her brow cleared when she saw Megan and she
came down the aisle at a decorous pace, the expression on her face indicative of sympathy and curiosity.
‘My dear Megan,’ she began before Melanie could say hello, ‘I was shocked to hear your news.’ She glanced at Melanie’s red face and added hastily, ‘Although as the vicar said to me it is an ill wind which blows no good; I’m sure that we all hope Melanie will be very happy.’
She looked at the professor. ‘Your mother has a friend staying?’
‘Just someone who gave me a lift home,’ said Megan airily. ‘You don’t mind if I take Melanie away? We’re lunching early. Goodbye, Mrs Brewster.’
She smiled with charm and plucked her sister on the arm before anyone could say anything more. ‘I’m only here for the day, so you’ll excuse us if we don’t stop.’
They were out of sight of the church before she looked at the professor. He was smiling. ‘I should have introduced you,’ she apologised, ‘but if I had it would have been a bit difficult…you do see?’
He had tucked an arm into Melanie’s as they strolled along. His shoulders shook. ‘You could have introduced me as an uncle or old friend of your father.’
‘You’re not nearly old enough,’ Megan pointed out, ‘though I suppose at a pinch…’
It was Melanie who cried, ‘Megan, how could you suggest that? The professor’s quite young.’ She looked up at him. ‘You are, aren’t you?’
‘Shall we say youngish? Melanie, you are a girl after my own heart; you haven’t even noticed my grey hairs.’
She began to laugh and he teased her gently all the way home. They were crossing the garden when Melanie said, ‘Meg, I’m going to stay with Oscar’s parents…’
‘Yes, love, I know; Mother told me. Mrs Fielding didn’t like me, but I’m sure she’ll like you, and you’ll be able to twist Oscar’s father round your thumb.’
Melanie stopped to look at her. ‘You’re the nicest sister. You look a bit pale, though, and tired. You need a change. Why don’t you leave that old hospital of yours and do something different?’
Megan said a bit wildly, ‘Look, darling, you’re the third person who’s told me to uproot myself. You don’t mean it, do you?’
Melanie didn’t answer because her mother came to meet them.
‘Did you get the biscuits? Good. What do you think of our village, Professor?’
‘Delightful, and such friendly inhabitants.’
Megan shot him a glance, but his handsome face bore no other expression than one of calm pleasure.
‘They are nosy,’ said Melanie. ‘Mrs Brewster was in the church…I shall be cross-examined next time I see her, but I shan’t answer.’ Which for Melanie was an unwontedly fiery remark. ‘Of course it’s because you are so large.’ She smiled at the professor with none of her usual shyness and Megan stared in surprise and pleasure. He might be a tiresome man but he knew how to put Melanie at ease, and yet at the hospital the junior nurses, even some of the staff nurses, would do anything to avoid him.
They all went into the house and since they were having a lively conversation about village life she was able to continue her musing. He was a brilliantly clever man, and she suspected that when he was working nothing but perfection satisfied him; clumsiness, carelessness and incompetence would be bound to make him angry, the cold anger so well controlled but just the same intimidating. She nodded her head in satisfaction at having solved her problem and looked up to find him gazing at her. He couldn’t possibly have known what she was thinking about but she went pink all the same so that he smiled faintly.
Her father came home for lunch, which they ate in the rather shabby dining-room with its heavy, well polished furniture. Mrs Rodner, put on her mettle by her unexpected guest, had surpassed herself. Steak and kidney pudding wrapped in a white napkin, creamed potatoes light as feathers, spinach and the first baby carrots from the garden, followed by apple pie and cream. ‘The last of the Bramleys,’ she told her companions, beaming at the professor when he remarked upon the mouthwatering pastry. ‘Oh, good, I’m glad you’re enjoying it—it’s not really very cordon bleu, I’m afraid. Megan has a much lighter hand with pastry than I have.’
They all looked at Megan, who mumbled something and got up to clear the plates and fetch the cheese and biscuits. The professor had made a good lunch; he and her father got on well although the talk was general and not at all serious, and when they had finished their coffee Mr Rodner got up reluctantly.
‘I must get back to the office—you will be here when I get home soon after five o’clock?’
‘We shan’t need to leave before eight o’clock. Your wife has very kindly asked me to stay for supper.’
‘Splendid. We may have time to examine some rather fine prints I have of this part of the world.’ He patted Megan on the shoulder. ‘This is just what you need, my dear. You are far too pale and surely you have lost some weight? It won’t do, you know. You need to get away from the hospital—a change of scene…’ He caught his wife’s eye and added hastily, ‘Well, I must be off. Enjoy your afternoon.’
To Megan’s surprise she did enjoy her afternoon. The professor expressed a wish to see something of the countryside and since Janus had stayed home they had taken him with them. ‘He still misses Flossy,’ said Megan, leading the way along a bridlepath towards the woods ahead of them. ‘This is Nib’s Wood,’ she told him as they entered its tangled green and waited patiently while Janus explored a rabbit hole, and the professor looked around him and observed in a voice so quiet that she almost didn’t hear what he had said,
‘Where you came with Oscar, no doubt.’
Remembering that, she felt that she should have been upset but although she had a pang of regret she answered him quite naturally. ‘Yes, it’s a lovely spot, isn’t it?’
They walked for miles and got back home to eat a splendid tea of scones and jam and cream and a lovely buttery Madeira cake. ‘Supper at half-past seven sharp,’ said her mother as they got up from the table. ‘It won’t be much since you’ll have to leave directly afterwards.’
‘I feel that I should sing for my supper,’ remarked the professor. ‘Is there any digging to be done? If your suppers are anything like your lunches then I need to work up an appetite.’
Mrs Rodner laughed. ‘You would like that? Really? Then get a spade from the shed. Megan will show you, there’s a patch in the kitchen garden that needs double-digging for the asparagus. It’s hard work—are you quite sure?’
He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. ‘A nice change from sitting at a desk or peering down a microscope,’ he told her. ‘Come along, Megan.’
She found him a spade. ‘You’ll ruin those trousers,’ she pointed out.
‘I do have another pair. Come and talk to me while I work.’
‘Better still, I’ll weed the carrots.’ She donned a pair of gardening gloves and set to with a vengeance, watching him out of the corner of her eye.
He was working with an effortless ease and with breath left to talk. A gentle, rambling conversation which exactly suited their peaceful surroundings, the rumble of his quiet voice and the sound of the spade sliding in and out of the earth with the regularity of a ticking clock coupled with the weeding giving her a feeling of content she hadn’t experienced since she had broken up with Oscar. Her father came to talk to them presently and joined in the chat, sitting on an old wheelbarrow, smoking his pipe, well content to see someone else doing the hard work. The digging was half done by the time they were c
alled in to have supper and as he helped Megan stow the tools away the professor sighed. ‘A splendid relaxation.’ He glanced at Megan’s nicely pink cheeks. ‘We both needed it.’
She went ahead of the two men to wash and tidy herself and Melanie followed her up to her bedroom. ‘He’s nice, your professor,’ she remarked, sitting on the bed watching Megan brush out her tangled hair.
‘He’s not mine, love, and when we get back to Regent’s he will very likely ignore me if we should chance to meet. Besides, he has a wife, you know.’
‘How funny—I mean, he doesn’t seem like a married man, does he?’ She got off the bed and came to peer over Meg’s shoulder into the looking glass. ‘I do hope Oscar’s mother and father will like me…’
‘They will, darling, I’m quite sure of that. You see, Oscar really loves you and they will see that and love you, too.’
‘Is that why Mrs Fielding didn’t like you?’
Megan powdered her nose. ‘Yes, I do like to think that it was.’
‘You’re not unhappy, Megan?’
‘No, love, I promise you that.’ She smiled at her sister’s anxious reflection.
‘Oh, good. Oscar and I wouldn’t like that. I still think it would be nice if you were to change your job. See the world, meet people…’
Megan laughed. ‘Why, Melanie, you sound motherly! Perhaps I will. I’ll see.’
They went downstairs and found everyone in the drawing-room, drinking her father’s best sherry, the professor looking completely at home.
They left promptly at eight o’clock after their supper of cheese soufflé and jacket potatoes, which, thanks to their gardening, they had eaten with splendid appetites. Megan had never felt so reluctant to leave home and neither had Meredith, judging by the grumbling voice issuing from his basket. They didn’t talk much; there didn’t seem to be any need for small talk. She sat, full of fresh air and good food, half asleep, and the professor made no effort to rouse her. There was very little traffic and this time he used the motorway, only slowing down as they reached the outskirts of the city. She roused herself then but since her one or two remarks were met with monosyllabic replies she lapsed into silence until he stopped before the flat. The street looked gloomy and drab and the flat even worse. She got out when he opened her door and took her key and admitted himself to turn on the lights and look around him. She had followed him in and stood in the little room while he fetched Meredith.
