by Betty Neels
‘But she never will, she never meets any one, only Thompson and Mrs Thompson and me—and you of course.’
Her uncle went to look out of the window. ‘Ah, but there’s magic in Vienna, didn’t you know? Anything might happen. Shall we wait and see?’ He walked over to her and kissed her swiftly. ‘Not a word, Eileen, cross your heart?’
‘Cross my heart. How long must we wait for something magic to happen?’
‘Not too long, my dear.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I must go—I’m late.’
And Cordelia, having no inkling of this conversation, was delighted to find her charge so anxious to agree to her plans for the resuming of drawing lessons as soon as she got back to her uncle’s. She walked back to the apartment presently, her head full of schemes for keeping Eileen happy for the last week before her parents arrived. It wasn’t until she was getting ready for bed after her solitary dinner, that she spared a thought for Julius Salfinger. Dr Trescombe had been very definite about her not seeing him again and it might be difficult putting him off. She would have to think of some watertight excuse if he ‘phoned. She didn’t think about him for long; she curled up in bed and allowed herself at last the pleasure of thinking about Charles Trescombe. Of course, it was a singularly profitless exercise; in a little more than a week he would wish her a pleasant goodbye and that would be that. She wouldn’t see him again after that, even though he was going back to England she saw no chance of their paths crossing; she really would have to think seriously about another job. Instead, she went over the conversation they had had that afternoon, word for word, and not just once.
Julius Salfinger ‘phoned the next day, but she was out and Thompson, offering to take a message had been told not to bother. Cordelia heaved a sigh of relief when she was told; Eileen would be coming home late the following afternoon and once she was back, she could give the perfectly true excuse that she must stay with her until her parents returned. But she had reckoned without Fate. She had brought back a good many of the odds and ends Eileen had collected while she was in hospital on the previous evening and she wasn’t going again until tea time, when Eileen’s uncle would bring the child home, and she would pack up the rest of Eileen’s things at the same time. That left her with a morning to herself and since time was running out, she decided to walk through some of the older streets of Vienna and treat herself to coffee at Sacher’s. It was a brilliant morning; the doctor had left the apartment directly after breakfast with a brief reminder that she should be at the hospital by four o’clock to help Eileen collect her things ready for him to pick them up shortly after. ‘If there are any messages for me at lunch-time, ‘phone me at the hospital, will you?’ he had asked as he went, so that her vague idea about staying out to lunch was squashed. All the same, she had several hours of the morning to herself, she took a tram to Heldenplatz and started walking in the direction of St Stephan’s Cathedral, taking any small street she fancied, keeping it’s tall spire in view.
Her way took her close to Graben, so that she lingered to look in the shops there. She was admiring the beautifully arranged flowers in a florist’s window when someone took her arm.
Julius Salfinger—the last person she wanted to see.
‘What luck,’ he began, ‘and how pretty you look this morning. What about that dinner date? I know of an enchanting little restaurant!’
She said pleasantly, ‘Hullo Julius. I’m afraid I won’t be able to have dinner with you—Eileen’s coming home today—you know that, of course—and I’ll not be free now until her parent’s arrive.’
‘Nonsense—of course you can manage an evening. When the child’s in bed she’ll come to no harm—you can slip out, no one need know…’
‘I couldn’t do that, I’m sorry, Julius.’
His smile faded. ‘Standing me up, my dear? I don’t imagine that you get many dates, do you? I would never have asked you out in the first place if it hadn’t been for young Eileen trading on my good nature with her tale of a poor young woman with no money and no chance of having a bit of fun. I’m sorry I put myself out.’
Cordelia felt rage and humiliation rising in her throat, choking her. She said in a voice which didn’t sound like her own any more. ‘Then why did you ask me out to dinner? Surely giving me lunch was all that your—your pity demanded?’
He said sulkily. ‘Girls enjoy my company, they can’t wait to be asked out again…’
‘Well, here is one who doesn’t; you’re conceited…’ She swallowed the tirade on her tongue and marched past him into the nearest shop. It was a superior gentlemen’s out-fitters and the sauve young man who came to see what she wanted was quite put out when she refused to look at Italian silk ties and dressy waistcoats, indeed, after a few perplexed minutes he came to the conclusion that she hadn’t heard him or even seen him. She hadn’t—she was unaware of her surroundings, wrapped in such bitter thoughts that she felt sick.
She left the shop presently, walking quickly, not caring where she was going, presently she found herself by the Cathedral but she didn’t go inside turning away and going towards the Parkring and crossing it to go into the Stadtpark, where she walked the paths until she was quite tired when she stopped at a small café and had coffee. She glanced at her watch and knew that she would have to get a tram back to the apartment. She had no wish to return but Dr Trescombe had asked her to let him know if there were any messages. Sitting in the tram she tried to think sensibly. Should she confront Eileen with the whole sorry little episode or pretend that she knew nothing about it? And what about the doctor? She had an uneasy feeling that he might conceivably have had something to say to his niece who would probably pour the whole story out. She closed her eyes at the awful thought; he didn’t think much of her and now he would add impatient pity for the rather dull girl with no looks to speak of. She looked out of the window, her eyes wide to stop the tears falling.
She pecked at the delicious lunch Mrs Thompson had got for her, watched by a solicitous Thompson and since there were no messages to pass on to the hospital she took herself off to her room where she had a good cry, washed her face with cold water, made it up with extra care under the impression that she had disguised the tears successfully and went to the hospital, and as ill-luck would have it, the first person she saw there was Dr Trescombe, standing by the reception desk, talking to Julius Salfinger. She stopped short but only for a moment and then went past them with a murmured good afternoon, aware that her face was as red as a beet. An occasion, she thought, wryly, when it would have been nice if the ground could have opened beneath her and she could have disappeared from sight; preferably to come up again somewhere a long way away—England, perhaps.
Of course she didn’t see the embarrassment on Dr Salfinger’s face nor the thoughtful glance Dr Trescombe gave to each one of them. The thoughtfulness was replaced by a bland expression which seemed to upset the younger man, for he nipped away smartly when Dr Trescombe dismissed him, still blandly but with a nasty steely look in his eyes.
Cordelia took a deep breath outside Eileen’s door before she went in; it wasn’t any good being cross with the child, she had every intention of saying nothing at all and as it happened it was easier than she had imagined. She bustled around, finishing the last of the packing, hardly noticing that Eileen was rather silent. She had her head in the locker by the bed, making sure it was empty when the doctor came in and she lingered for a moment, bracing herself for whatever he might say.
But beyond a pleasant remark about everyone being fortunate to meet at the time he had suggested, he said nothing at all and presently sent Eileen along the corridor to Sister’s office to bid that lady goodbye. Which left Cordelia standing with nothing to do, wishing herself anywhere but where she was, for he was leaning against the wall staring at her.
After a moment, he said: ‘You’ve been crying…’
She took a quick look at him; there was neither curiosity nor pity in his face, merely an impersonal kindness which strangely enough mad
e her want to burst into tears again. ‘Well, you know, don’t you? I can see that you do—I feel so—so humiliated. But you are not to be angry with Eileen; Dr Salfinger—I met him this morning—accidentally—he told me… She wanted me to have some fun—she’s only a child.’ She ended her voice suddenly gruff with anger. ‘You’re not to say a word.’
He eased his shoulders against the wall and put his hands in his pockets.
‘But I already have—yesterday. You see, I guessed a good deal of all this when you told me you’d been out with young Salfinger—I did tell you that you weren’t his cup of tea, and that set me thinking. Eileen told me everything when I came to see her.’
Cordelia said fiercely: ‘There’s no need for all this meddling. I’m quite able to look after myself.’ She added with a fine lack of logic, ‘Only I thought that perhaps he’d really meant it—I mean wanting to take me out.’ She lifted her chin. ‘There’s no harm done, and as I said, there’s been enough meddling.’
‘I stand corrected, Cordelia. If you’re quite sure everything is packed, shall we go? I believe Mrs Thompson has laid on a splendid tea for Eileen.’
She had deserved the snub. She said that yes, she was quite ready and when Eileen came back, plunged on into plans for that young lady’s amusement during the next few days. This kept the conversational ball rolling until they got to the apartment, when there was a prolonged welcome from the Thompsons before they ate the splendid tea Mrs Thompson had ready for them, during which meal, Cordelia, the bit between the teeth, sustained a cheerful discussion as to which day would be best for Eileen to go to the Vienna Woods. They hadn’t made a decision when the doctor got up, observing that he had some work to do in his study and that Eileen was to go to bed within the next hour. ‘And no arguing, my dear—if you’re not one hundred per cent fit when your mother arrives, I’ll never live it down. You can have your supper in bed; Mrs Thompson has her head crammed with all the delicious tempting dishes she intends to offer you.’ He paused at the door. ‘Cordelia, I’d like to see you later, I have to go out this evening, perhaps when you have seen Eileen safely into her bed and before you have dinner? Come to the study.’
When he had gone Eileen turned a scared face towards Cordelia.
‘He’s not going to send you away?’ She gulped. ‘It’s all my—Uncle Charles said I wasn’t to tell you, but I must…’
Cordelia smiled very kindly. ‘It’s all right love, I know all about it. I’m not cross, really I’m not, I think it was rather sweet of you to bother about me. We’ll not say any more about it. After all I had a lovely lunch.’ She managed a cheerful grin and Eileen grinned back.
‘You’re really a darling,’ she declared. ‘It’s such a relief.’ She frowned, ‘why do you suppose Uncle Charles wants to see you?’
‘I daresay he’s going to let me know what is to happen when your parents get here,’ said Cordelia calmly. ‘I expect I’ll travel back with you but it’ll be for your mother and father to decide what’s to happen after that.’
‘I want you to stay,’ said Eileen stormily. ‘I’ve been ill, I mustn’t be thwarted.’
‘But you’ll be well again by then,’ observed Cordelia reasonably, ‘ready for school after a holiday in Scotland. Anyway let’s wait and see, shall we? Now what about your supper? What do you fancy?’
Eileen wasn’t to be hurried she changed her mind several times and by then Cordelia considered that it was high time that she went to her bed. Eileen wasn’t to be hurried over that either, but finally she was settled with a tray of delicacies on the bed table and Cordelia went to her room to tidy herself. She was going to be alone again; there was no need to change her dress, she brushed her hair severely, did her face, and feeling sick with apprehension and at the same time excited because she would be with Charles Trescombe, even if only for a few minutes, she went downstairs. The apartment was quiet; Mrs Thompson would be putting the final touches to her dinner, the doctor, presumably, was buried in his books in the study. She knocked on the door and at his quiet ‘Come in’, opened the door.
CHAPTER SIX
THE DOCTOR WAS sitting at his desk amidst a welter of opened tomes and closely written sheets. He got up and pulled a chair forward and waved Cordelia into it, sat down again and said nothing. Cordelia waited for a minute or so and then said mildly, ‘You wanted to see me, Dr Trescombe.’
‘Yes—yes, I did. You are prepared to go back with Eileen and her parents when they come? I’m afraid I have no idea what arrangements they will choose to make with you, it seems to me very likely that they will ask you to stay on with them for a time. You are ready to do that?’
‘Oh, yes, if they would like me to.’
He was staring at her and she found it hard to look away.
He said slowly: ‘You have been of very great benefit to Eileen—she’s a dear child, but spoilt; used to having her own way and creating havoc if she can’t get it, and you have checked that to a large extent. I—I and I’m sure her mother and father too—are most grateful for that.’
‘Thank you,’ said Cordelia politely, and waited; he surely hadn’t wanted to see her just to say that.
‘I have arranged to be free on Saturday. We might drive to the Vienna Woods and perhaps have lunch at one of the little restaurants there. I should be obliged if you will come too, Cordelia—we will leave mid morning and return directly after tea, that will be a long enough day for Eileen, besides I have a dinner engagement.’
‘Very well, Doctor. Eileen will enjoy that.’ She could hear her voice, very stiff and she tried to remedy matters. ‘I shall enjoy it too. Is there anything else?’
The doctor sighed and shook his head. ‘No, I think not. You have been happy here? Cordelia?’
‘Me? Oh, yes thank you. Vienna’s a lovely city, isn’t it? And we’ve seen quite a lot of it…’
‘But you?’ He persisted, ‘you haven’t felt homesick or lonely?’
She thought of her bleak life with her stepmother and the children. ‘No, neither.’
‘I suppose that is fortunate, since this is your work and it may carry you a long way from home.’
She wondered what he would say if she told him that she had no home any more. It was surprising that two people could live in the same house for weeks on end and know nothing about each other. And still more surprising that she could love him so whole heartedly and yet know so little of him.
She remembered that he was going out that evening and got up. ‘I’ll say good night, Doctor.’
He got up and opened the door. ‘Good night, Cordelia.’ She had the impression that he was going to say something else, but he didn’t and she went to the little sitting-room where Thompson had laid the table for her dinner.
The next few days were uneventful; Eileen, with the prospect of her parents arriving within the week, gave up her role of interesting invalid and became so active that Cordelia had to restrain her from doing too much. The daily rides in the fiacre helped, of course, she took care to choose somewhere interesting to visit and since the weather stayed fine the afternoons at least were taken care of. German lessons took up the mornings and the evenings were spent playing Scrabble or cards. Of the doctor they saw very little; he joined them for meals and once, while they were out driving, he swept past them in his car, a striking looking woman sitting beside him. Cordelia spent the rest of the day wondering who she was, unable to accept Eileen’s instant guess that she was one of Uncle Charles’s girl friends. She was none the wiser when the doctor mentioned at dinner that evening that he had seen them that afternoon for although Eileen said instantly: ‘You had a lady with you, Uncle Charles,’ he dismissed the remark with a casual, ‘So I did,’ and rather pointedly asked how the German lessons were going.
To Cordelia he was polite and beyond wanting to know how Eileen fared showed no interest in her day. But then, she told herself sensibly, why should he?’
Saturday came, a splendid morning with the promise of a hot day. There was a del
ay while Eileen made up her mind what she should wear and then changed it again but her uncle bore this with commendable patience and presently settled them in the car; his niece beside him and Cordelia, neat and cool in a cotton skirt and top, in the back.
He took them through the wine growing villages of Grinzing, Sievering and Nüssdorf, up the slopes of the Wienerwald, slowing so that they might look around them, and then driving on, taking the shady lanes between the trees. Cordelia lost all sense of direction presently; not that it mattered, she was perfectly content to gaze around her and join in Eileen’s enthusiasm for the picturesque inns they passed and got out very readily when the doctor stopped before one of these and suggested coffee. They sat on a balcony with trees all around them and the doctor laid himself out to be a charming companion—quite different to his usual self, she decided. Perhaps it was the sports shirt and slacks, so different too from his sober grey suits, but he seemed another man entirely. Perhaps because he knew that very soon now she and Eileen would be gone and he would be shot of the pair of them. He would go back to his dry-as-dust work, interlarded with dinners with lovely girls like the one she had seen. Jealousy, something she had never experienced before, very nearly curdled the cream in her coffee.
She realised that the doctor was addressing her and saw that he was smiling faintly. ‘So sorry,’ she was annoyed to feel her cheeks grow pink, ‘I was thinking…’
‘I was asking you if you liked it here sufficiently to return?’
She said promptly. ‘You mean if I should be offered a job here at some time? Oh, yes, I’d come—it’s beautiful, and it must take some months to see everything.’ She looked around her. ‘It’s beautiful here and there must be lots more to it than Tales from the Vienna Woods!’
