by Betty Neels
She tidied away her teacup, did her hair and her face and, since there was no sign of him, began to wash her smalls in the sink. If he had left the hospital at his usual time he would have been at the door by now; probably he had gone home first to eat a delicious meal. The very thought made her feel hungry and she ate another biscuit. Her mouth was full and her hands were covered in soapy water when the knocker was thumped. She snatched up a towel and went to the door, drying her hands as she went, anxious to admit him before the neighbours got to their windows.
She opened the door, wished him good evening through the biscuit and finished drying her hands. ‘Will the car be all right?’ she wanted to know. He moved a little to one side so that she could see round him; there were four little boys sitting in it like statues.
‘It’s in good hands,’ he told her casually. ‘Were you not expecting me?’
She felt at a disadvantage. ‘Of course I was but you didn’t say when you were coming and I do have chores to do; you’re late, anyway.’
He didn’t answer that but his eyes gleamed beneath their lids as she lifted Meredith off the easy-chair. ‘Do sit down. Would you like a cup of coffee?’
‘Indeed I should.’ He took the cat from her and settled him on his knees, ‘What a splendid chap Meredith has become.’
She put on the milk and spooned instant coffee and agreed while she debated whether to make her speech now or when he had had his coffee. Perhaps he would feel more approachable when he’d had it. She decided to wait, carried in the coffee and offered the biscuits.
‘Ah, rich tea,’ murmured the professor. ‘One of my favourite biscuits.’ He made the observation blandly and she wasn’t sure if he meant it or not, but presently decided that he had, for he ate all the biscuits on the plate.
She got more coffee and put out the rest of the biscuits and he ate most of those too. Megan’s heart smote her. ‘Would you like some sandwiches?’
‘I had no time for lunch,’ he told her, and managed to convey the impression of a starving man.
‘I haven’t had my supper. You’re welcome to share it, that is unless you’re on your way home. I expect your Mrs Thrumble will have a meal waiting.’
‘I have to go back to Regent’s before I go home.’
She got up. ‘It’s only cold ham and salad but I can make some toasted cheese.’
The nostrils of his splendid nose flared. ‘Nothing could be tastier. Shall I make the salad or see to the cheese?’
She poked her head round the alcove. ‘Can you cook?’ she wanted to know.
‘My mother was of the opinion that all boys should be able to fend for themselves. I boiled my first egg at a tender age—under supervision, of course.’
She swallowed a smile. ‘If you’d really like to help, will you see to the toast and cheese, then?’
There was barely room for them both in the tiny kitchen and Meredith insisted on joining them so that every few minutes he had to be moved to a more convenient place but the professor, despite his great size, had an economy of movement, grating the cheese, making the toast, taking over the small cooking stove while Megan, rather squashed at the sink, made a salad. That done, she set the table, gave him two plates to warm and got out the ham. There wasn’t much of it; she suspected that he could eat the lot with ease and then remembered with relief that she still had a cake in a tin. She had made it one evening, unable to settle with a book. She took it out; it looked all right and at any rate it would serve to fill him up if he was still hungry.
They sat down presently to a well made toasted cheese, a bottle of beer for him and a tonic for her, and, that polished off to the last crumb, they started on the ham and salad.
‘You cook very well,’ Megan said. ‘What else can you do?’
‘Make tea—an essential skill in this country—boil an egg, fry bacon.’
Megan had quite forgotten why he had come to see her. They started a trivial conversation which lasted through the coffee and several slices of cake.
‘You are a splendid cook, Megan.’ He sat back in his chair and Meredith promptly got on to his knee.
‘Thank you, but if you’re hungry I dare say food of any sort becomes delicious.’
She sat, her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands, feeling content. The professor was good company, he didn’t need entertaining and when he spoke it was in a quiet voice which was most soothing. She was enjoying his company… She sat up suddenly. ‘You came to see me about that orphanage. I said I would…’
‘And the moment you put the phone down you had second thoughts. Very natural.’
She said waspishly, her feeling of content draining away, ‘If you knew that, why did you bother to come?’
‘Because you reacted as I expected you to and I think that by now, if you are quite honest with yourself, you may have seen the good sense in going away for a time.’ When she remained silent he added, ‘You have leave due to you and I think that things will be made as easy as possible for you given the—er—circumstances. Do you have a passport? Yes? Have you told Oscar of your intention? I suggest that you do that and notice his reaction. If it is one of relief then you will know that you have made a wise decision.’
He got to his feet. ‘I must get back to Regent’s. You will be going home at the weekend? I will drive you down and fetch you on Sunday evening.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘Don’t worry, my dear, things have a way of sorting themselves out without any help from us. Thank you for my supper. We must do it again some time.’
She still hadn’t spoken for the simple reason that he hadn’t given her the chance, and now she said, ‘I shall drive myself down at the weekend, but thank you for your offer.’
They were at the door. ‘I’ll be here at half-past eight on Saturday morning, and remember that you are going to tell Oscar.’
‘I—I haven’t decided…’ she began. She didn’t finish because he kissed her as he went out of the door. She stood watching him talking to the boys, handing out small change before he drove away with a casual wave.
‘I have never met a man who annoyed me so much,’ she told Meredith, ‘but there is no denying the fact that he kisses very nicely.’ She added fiercely, ‘But I won’t be bamboozled.’
All the same, when she met Oscar on her way back from her dinner the next day she told him about the orphanage.
His eagerness for her to take the job was quite disconcerting. ‘Just what you need to buck you up,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘You don’t want to get into a rut…’ He paused, ‘You know I’m very fond of you, Megan; just because we’ve broken up definitely doesn’t mean that I don’t still care about you in a brotherly way. Who knows? You might meet some interesting people, make new friends, even marry.’
His remarks annoyed her; they made her feel like a woman of middle age and desperate to find a husband. She said in a colourless voice, ‘I might do that.’
She went back to the ward feeling ruffled. Everyone seemed bent on getting her away. She would go home at the weekend and see what her mother and father thought. They would probably tell her that she was old and wise enough to make up her own mind. Quite right too. If the professor thought that he could persuade her during the drive home he would be mistaken. She flounced off duty in a bad temper, went to bed awfully early, and, strangely enough, slept all night.
The professor made no effort to persuade her; he called for her on Saturday morning, loaded Meredith on to the back seat of the car, made sure
that she was nicely settled and drove off.
It was a splendid morning and Megan had taken the trouble to put on a new cotton jersey two-piece, the top in a golden yellow and full long skirt in gold and chocolate brown with a hint of pearl-grey and since the weather was unpredictable she added a brown rain jacket. The professor had given her an appreciative glance when she opened the door to him but he had said nothing and she had seen the glance and it put her in a good frame of mind.
They didn’t talk much—a pleasant desultory conversation which allowed her to think her own thoughts while she watched his large, well-kept hands on the wheel. She wasn’t sure when she had started to like him; he had never done anything to encourage that but he had been kind, with a happy knack of being there when wanted. Of course he tended to expect people to do what he wished them to do, but, unlike some of the men of her acquaintance, he never erupted in bad temper. He had a temper, she was sure of that, controlled by an iron hand—which would account for his cold manner and biting words when he was angry.
He didn’t look at her when he asked, ‘What are you thinking, Megan?’
She said hastily, ‘Nothing, nothing at all.’
It was nice to be home again and she found herself wishing that the professor were going to spend the day there, but, although he stayed for half an hour chatting over a cup of coffee with her mother and father, he said that he had appointments during the weekend and would have to go back to London at once. ‘I’ll be here about eight o’clock on Sunday evening,’ he told Megan as he got up to depart, refusing Mrs Rodner’s offer of supper with grave good manners. He shook hands with her and Mr Rodner, nodded at Megan with casual friendliness and drove himself away.
‘Such a nice man,’ said Mrs Rodner, watching him go. Megan wasn’t sure if nice was quite the right word.
She didn’t tell her mother and father about the orphanage until that evening. They listened without interruption and when she had finished speaking her father asked, ‘Do you want our advice or have you already decided, my dear?’
‘I said that I would go and then I wasn’t sure but the professor seems to think that I am going. He thinks it’s a good idea.’ She added uncertainly, ‘If I go it would only be for a few months, perhaps not even that—then what do I do?’
‘Well, dear, I do think that it might be a good idea to leave Regent’s. There must be any number of hospitals where you could get a similar post and it wouldn’t hurt you to stay here for a week or two while you are deciding just where you want to go.’ Her mother’s voice was soothing. ‘Do you want to talk to Melanie about it? She’s over at the Howells’s—Susan Howell is to be one of the bridesmaids.’
Megan said in a quiet little voice, ‘Of course—no, she’s been upset enough, hasn’t she? If I just make all the arrangements and let her know when it’s all settled.’ She gave a small sigh. ‘I told Oscar—he…thought it was a splendid idea.’ She looked across at her father. ‘So you think that I should go?’
‘Tell me, Meg, why did you change your mind after you had agreed to go to Holland?’
‘Well, I think I was annoyed because Professor van Belfeld took it for granted that I’d say yes…’
Her father smiled. ‘A perfectly natural reaction which perhaps you have regretted since?’
She nodded. ‘When he comes tomorrow I’ll tell him that I will go…’
‘When will that be, Meg?’ her mother wanted to know. ‘What about clothes?’
Clothes could, on occasion, be as efficient a panacea as a cup of tea.
‘It’s by the sea, this orphanage, quite a small place near a little town called Castricum, so I shouldn’t want many clothes.’
‘I do wonder if you wear uniform? You say the professor is on the board of directors; he might know. Does he go there often?’ Mrs Rodner’s voice was guileless.
‘I shouldn’t think he’d have time for that. I mean you can be on a board of directors and only meet now and again, can’t you? He did say that he has consultant’s work but I don’t know where. He might even have a private practice—quite a few people pay for various tests, you know.’
‘Well, now, your clothes,’ urged her mother comfortably, and the rest of the evening passed agreeably in the choosing and discarding of the contents of Megan’s wardrobe.
The professor arrived punctually on Sunday evening, accepted a cup of coffee from Mrs Rodner and sat for half an hour placidly answering all the questions she put to him, something made possible by Megan’s absence. Half an hour before she expected him Melanie had phoned to ask if she could be fetched back home as the Howells’s car had refused to start, and since Megan hadn’t seen her during the weekend she had driven her father’s car the few miles to the Howells’s house, sure that she would be back home before he arrived. She had reckoned without the Howells, however, old friends who kept her talking for ten minutes or so before she and Melanie left them.
As they went into the house Megan said vexedly, ‘He’s here already…’ and shot into the drawing-room with Melanie at her heels.
He got up as they went in, bade them a cheerful good evening and began to talk to Melanie. The orphanage wasn’t mentioned and Megan gave a silent sigh of relief. Perhaps there hadn’t been time for her mother to ask questions, and she was further reassured by the lady’s observation that the professor had given her two special remedies against greenfly.
Megan drank her coffee, happily unaware of her mother’s conversation with the professor, and presently assured him that she was quite ready to go if he wished. She fetched Meredith and stuffed him gently into his basket, bade them all goodbye, and stood quietly while he shook hands with everyone, saying something to Melanie which made her laugh before going with her to the car.
He started a conversation almost at once, rambling from one subject to another and giving her little chance to say much. She waited for him to bring up the subject of the orphanage but it wasn’t mentioned, it was only as they were almost at the flat that she said without preamble, ‘I’ll go—I’ll go to your orphanage. Everyone seems to think it’s a good idea.’
‘And you, Megan? Do you think it is a good idea?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry I was difficult about it. I—I didn’t mean to be. You’ve been very kind to go to so much trouble.’
‘I would have done the same for anyone,’ he assured her gravely.
At the flat he got out as he always did, unlocked her door, turned on the lights and inspected the kitchen door and window, but he didn’t stay. As he went, he said, ‘Allow me to see your matron before you arrange an appointment with her, Megan,’ and when she looked surprised, he added, ‘There will be no need for you to give reasons for leaving. She is, of course, aware that you have broken off your engagement to young Fielding but there will be no necessity to mention that.’ He opened the door. ‘I do not wish you to be hurt any more; you have had enough.’ He laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘I will see you some time during the week.’
For some reason, when he had gone, she burst into tears.
She had no need to make an appointment to see Matron; she was sent for the following afternoon. The ward was quiet and both part-time staff nurses were on duty. She straightened her cap, put on her cuffs and smoothed her dark blue uniform—Regent’s was one of the hospitals which retained what were considered out-of-date uniforms for the nursing staff—and hurried down to the office. Her interview was surprisingly brief and Matron, a peppery autocrat of the old school, unbent sufficiently to
wish her well.
‘There is nothing like a change,’ she observed in a surprisingly friendly voice. ‘To widen one’s field of work is always commendable, and when you return, Sister, if you care to get in touch with me, I dare say I can recommend you to several hospitals not in London. You have always given satisfactory work here and you can rest assured that you will receive the highest recommendations from myself and the medical staff.’ She offered a hand which Megan shook. She hadn’t uttered a word, for beyond a polite good-afternoon there had been no need, but now she spoke her thanks and said goodbye and got herself out of the office. She was to leave in a week’s time; apparently the professor had arranged that, although Matron hadn’t said so. She went back to the ward and found a message on her desk. She was to ring Professor van Belfeld as soon as possible.
His brisk, ‘Van Belfeld, yes?’ sounded businesslike.
‘It’s me,’ said Megan, ‘you left a message.’
‘I shall come and see you this evening—about seven o’clock. No need to get supper; I’ll bring some food with me. We can eat while we talk.’
She just had time to say, ‘Very well,’ before he rang off.
Jenny relieved her at five o’clock but she didn’t leave the ward at once. She had the off-duty book to fill in, check the operation cases for the next day and go through the charts, so that it was almost six o’clock by the time she left the hospital, and since the professor had been vague about the time he intended to come she made haste to feed Meredith, put a tray ready for coffee and lay the table before doing her face and hair. She had thought about changing her dress—she was wearing a cotton crêpon dress, a shirtwaister in a honey colour—but she was convinced that the professor never noticed what she wore, and he could arrive at any moment.
