by Betty Neels
‘Then it’s not the girl I spoke to that evening—outside the cinema…’
He said calmly: ‘No it’s not, Julia.’
She nodded. ‘She’s in Holland of course. You’ll be seeing her when you go, that’ll be nice.’
Nice sounded a bit tepid but he echoed her blandly, ‘Very nice. Sit down, here’s the coffee.’
It was then that she noticed the small whiskered face peering round his legs. A foxy face with anxious beady eyes. ‘Ah, yes,’ went on the professor, ‘meet Digby—a little shy of strangers, I’m afraid, owing to a rather fraught puppyhood.’
Julia bent to pat the unruly thatch on the beast’s head and was struck by the enormous plume of a tail which waved gently as she tickled one ear.
‘He’s a dog of character. That’s a lovely tail.’
‘Much admired. He’s quite young, we’re not sure exactly how old he is.’
‘You found him?’
‘I removed him from unpleasant surroundings.’
‘Oh—a pond and a brick round his neck?’ she cried in horror.
‘Something like that. If you sit down I think he’ll make friends.’
She went obediently to one of the chairs grouped round the fire. There were two cats on one of the sofas; a splendid Burmese of impeccable pedigree and a moggy in a black and white coat with half an ear and round green eyes. The professor came to sit opposite her. He waved a large hand at the cats. ‘Ruby and Minou. They’re Nicky’s but while he’s away they have to put up with me.’
‘Ruby seems very suitable—but Minou…?’
‘There’s nothing like a dignified name. Will you pour the coffee?’
An hour passed quickly for Julia. She couldn’t remember afterwards what they had talked about but time had flown by, at the end of it Minou had settled on to her knee and Digby had come to nose her gently before taking up position on his master’s beautifully polished shoes.
She stirred and smiled across at her host. ‘What a lovely way to spend a morning doing nothing,’ she observed.
‘I must agree and all the better for it being so seldom. How about a walk before lunch?’
They went to Hyde Park, walking briskly across the grass while Digby frisked around them, coming to trot at their heels whenever anyone came too near. And they talked, at least, Julia did most of the talking, forgetful of everything save the delight of feeling completely at ease with someone, while the professor egged her on quietly and listened with a gleam in his eyes which she didn’t see.
They turned for home and presently sat down to a delicious lunch, served by a beaming Martha. Soup, hot and fragrant, lamb cutlets with a splendid variety of vegetables, and treacle pudding, light as air and smothered in the rich syrup. They drank hock and had coffee round the fire in the drawing room. Crossing the hall, Julia wished very much that she would be allowed to see the rest of the house; the dining room hadn’t disappointed her with its oval table of highly polished yew and its accompanying chairs with their simple sabre legs and upholstered seats. There was a sideboard too in the grecian style with tapering cupboards, and a narrow serving table against the other wall. The walls were panelled and the whole given colour by the sapphire blue curtains at the tall window and the pale apricot silk of the lamp shades. They drank their coffee in a companionable silence and presently she said, ‘I must be going. Thank you for having me to lunch, I—I enjoyed it very much.’
The professor put down his cup and saucer. ‘I have enjoyed it too. Must you go? You are perhaps bored with my company? I had hoped that you would stay to tea at least?’
‘I’m not bored,’ she told him forthrightly, ‘it’s lovely to be able to talk to someone…’
‘You miss young Longman?’
She shook her head slowly. ‘Not any more—just for a day or two but you see he liked to talk over his day’s work.’ She gave him a questioning look. ‘Don’t you ever want to talk about your day?’
‘Oh, yes, but Nicky is hardly old enough and Martha doesn’t believe in what she calls hospital nonsense.’
‘Oh, well when you are married you will have your wife to listen to you.’
‘I look forward to that. Nicky’s mother disliked my work intensely, I suspect that is why she left us.’
Julia turned a horrified face to him. ‘Left you? But you said that she had died…’
‘Very shortly after leaving us. She found us dull stuff, poor woman, and went to America and died within weeks of a virus pneumonia. We did all we could…’
It didn’t strike her how strange it was that he was letting her see into his private life after years of austere politeness. ‘Oh, Lauris, I’m so very sorry. How dreadful for you. And for Nicky.’
‘He hardly remembers her. He longs for a mother, though.’
‘He deserves the very best.’ She added recklessly, ‘And so do you.’
He gave her a small mocking smile. ‘Why Julia, you sound quite heated.’ The smile disappeared. ‘You of all people, with no happy future to look forward to at the moment.’
She bent her flushed face over Minou who had crept on to her lap again. ‘I really must go. I think I’d like to walk back.’
‘My dear girl, it’s all of four miles.’
‘Well, I’ll walk the first part of the way—as far as the British Museum, I can get a bus there, or the Underground.’
‘Not the Underground,’ he said sharply, ‘that’s no place for a pretty girl like you.’
She smiled kindly at him. ‘Look, I’m not a girl, I’m thirty and I’m not delicate or scared easily.’
‘Then may I walk with you? As far as the British Museum, and see you on to a bus?’ He spoke lightly, ignoring the plans he had had for a quiet dinner somewhere for the two of them.
‘I’d like that.’ She put the cat down gently and got up. ‘Do you take Digby?’
‘No, he doesn’t like busy streets and he’s had a good walk—I’ll take him for a stroll later on.’
They went through the quiet streets and squares, almost empty at that hour of the afternoon, but presently they turned into narrow busy streets running parallel with Oxford Street. It was already growing dark, for the clouds hadn’t lifted all day and the wind was cutting.
Julia said apologetically: ‘You must think I’m mad, walking in this weather.’
He took her arm. ‘No, I don’t. You’re walking away from something, aren’t you, Julia?’
Which was so exactly the truth that she had no answer.
They had turned up what was little more than an alley, so that they could gain Oxford Street and cross into Great Russell Street when they became aware of a good deal of noise and commotion ahead of them. The professor slowed his steps as the street ahead of them filled with people. There was a good deal of shouting and arm waving and the angry rumbling mutter of an ill-tempered crowd. The lane they were in, for it was little more than that, was lined with high brick walls and there were windowless buildings housing who knew what. There was nowhere for them to go and to walk on wouldn’t do at all. The professor pushed her gently up against a wall and stood in front of her. ‘And don’t dare to move,’ he advised her.
There was nothing further from her mind; his broad back sheltered her nicely even though she was big, and he was reassuringly calm. The crowd were almost upon them by now, pushing and shoving past them, shouting at them too, although she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Whatever it was, however, was bad tempered, and the temper seemed to be getting worse as the crowds progressed. Peeping round a massive shoulder she saw that the crowd was fighting as it swayed and stumbled past and she withdrew her head smartly as a blow was aimed at the professor, who calmly lifted an arm and diverted it without effort. She gave a shiver and his other hand came round to hold her arm for a moment in a reassuring grip. He needed it almost at once, though, to parry another blow.
This is really quite frightening, thought Julia and closed her eyes. She opened them again; if they were going to be knocked down an
d trampled on then she would be of more use to Lauris if she could see. The comforting thought he would never allow her to be trampled on cheered her considerably so that she didn’t notice the rough bricks of the wall she was pressed against and even managed to peep at the men and women streaming past her. They were running now and weren’t fighting any more and she saw why almost immediately; the police, solid, unhurried and calm, were at their heels. Minutes later, the crowd had gone and the last of the police. One of the officers had paused to ask if they were all right.
‘Quite unhurt, Officer,’ the professor assured him. ‘What was it? A demonstration of some sort?’
‘That’s right, sir. A few hotheads started something up and there’s always those that join in, half of them don’t know what it’s all about.’
He saluted smartly, smiled at Julia and went on his way.
‘Oh, my goodness,’ said Julia. She was pale, so that her green eyes seemed greener than ever. ‘That was something, wasn’t it? Thank heaven you were here. What would I have done?’
He laughed down at her. ‘Gone with them, of course, and slipped away when you had the chance. You’re not too crushed?’
‘No, I’m fine. You’re not hurt?’
He shook his head, and she smiled her relief. She was quite unprepared for his quick, fierce kiss.
Julia closed her eyes, just for a moment the dingy little side street became heaven. But only for a moment, she came sharply to earth again with the professor’s brisk, ‘No more nonsense about going back to your flat. We’re going back home to have tea round the fire, and I shall drive you back after dinner this evening.’
‘But,’ began Julia, unable to go on with whatever she had meant to say because of the speed at which she was being hauled towards Oxford Street. It was obvious to her that the professor had the bit between his teeth and nothing she could say would remove it. She gave up and skipped and half ran beside him. She could argue with him later.
He was a man to get a taxi at the lift of his finger. She was urged to get in and sat listening to the cabbie and the professor exchanging pungent views on demonstrations, lawful and unlawful. ‘Ain’t ‘arf bad fer business,’ grumbled the cabbie. ‘See anything of ’em?’
The professor assured him briefly that he had.
Martha came into the hall as the professor opened his front door.
‘Now that’s a good thing,’ she exclaimed cheerfully, ‘there’s muffins just out of the oven and a splendid Dundee cake I’ve no doubt it’s as good as the Queen herself could bake.’ She eyed Julia’s still pale countenance. ‘I’ll have that coat of yours, Miss, and you go and tidy yourself.’ Her manner was so motherly and cosy that Julia felt a strong urge to burst into tears, something she seldom did. She swallowed them back, did as she was bid and then joined the professor in his drawing room where a small table had been drawn up before the fire with the tea tray already upon it. It wasn’t until she was eating her second muffin and had re-filled their cups that the professor observed, ‘You weren’t frightened, Julia?’
She sank her splendid teeth into buttery richness. ‘Oh, yes, I was, to begin with, but you were there.’
The professor put down his cup. ‘Thank you, Julia.’ He smiled slowly and she looked away, reminding herself that he was almost a married man and she would have to be careful.
She said lightly, ‘You’re large you see.’
‘Yes, it does help. Cut the cake, will you? If we don’t eat at least a couple of slices I shall have Martha in tears.’
They sat and talked after the tea things had been cleared away, with the cats and Digby lined up between them. It seemed no time at all before the professor said, ‘How about a drink before dinner?’
‘Are you sure that you want me to stay? I mean, you didn’t expect me did you? You may have a date this evening…’
‘Don’t fish,’ he told her, ‘but set your mind at rest, I have no date. Occasionally I have a day off and I do absolutely nothing.’
‘Well, it’s very kind of you.’ She wrinkled her delightful nose. ‘Something smells delicious.’
He laughed. ‘I have no doubt Martha has excelled herself.’
Martha had. Avocado pears sharpened by a sauce of her own invention, sole veronique and a pineapple upside down pudding with lashings of cream. Julia put down her empty wine glass and said happily, ‘That was gorgeous. I think I must have a greedy nature.’
‘Nonsense. I’ve no patience with women who pick at a chicken bone with a tape measure in their hand, terrified to gain an ounce or two.’ He stared across the table at her. ‘I like women who look like women.’
He grinned so wickedly at her that she blushed, made aware of her own splendid shape. ‘I think I should be going back,’ she told him in what she hoped was a cool voice. ‘Wellington, you know…’
‘Of course, but we’ll have coffee first, shall we?’
But he made no attempt to delay her once they drank it. And beyond a few commonplace remarks as they drove back, he had little to say. At the flat she hesitated.
‘No, I won’t come in,’ he told her, unerringly reading her thoughts. ‘I have some work to do.’ He got out and went with her to the door and held it open until she had gone through after wishing him good night and muttering her thanks. Only when he heard her open and then close her own door at the top of the stairs did he close the street door and get back into his car. He didn’t drive away at once and Julia, going to draw the curtains, stood for a moment looking down at the Rolls. Everything was moving too fast for her, she thought distractedly. Within a few weeks she and Lauris had become friends, and it wasn’t just a casual relationship; it had got out of hand, she was so completely at ease with him and she was in danger of forgetting that she knew he was shortly to be married—to a woman who probably thought of her as his working colleague. Which of course she was, or had been. She thought back with wonder to the time when she had found him austere and stand offish. It would be nice, she thought wistfully, if she could have got herself back to that state again. There wasn’t any going back now though, she loved him and that was that. She wasn’t a woman to accept second best; she would have to remain unmarried and make the best of it. She watched the car draw away from the kerb and then turned away from the window to feed an impatient Wellington and put on the kettle. A cup of tea would hardly alter the situation but at least it made it a little easier to bear.
She was too restless to go to bed; she cleaned the flat and washed her hair and then sat with the kitten on her knee, doing nothing until she glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost midnight. She was on duty at eight o’clock in the morning and there were two lumbar punctures, a couple of barium meals and the physiotherapists would be steaming on to the ward, very bright and cheerful, to instil movement and hope into the more helpless of the patients. She went to bed then, trying to pin her thoughts down to tomorrow’s work, a hopeless task as they reverted time and again to Lauris. And when she did sleep at last it was to dream of him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE DAY WAS even busier than she had expected it to be. Both women for barium meals took exception to the mixture they were asked to swallow and were, from their point of view, most satisfactorily sick and had to be put back into their beds and the lumbar punctures, although successfully performed by Dick, needed the services of a nurse, ill spared, what with days off and the mopping up which had to be done for the other two patients. Julia went to and fro, managing as best she could, lending a hand here and there, finding time to stop and have a word with some of the more querulous ladies. She looked calm and capable and unhurried. All the same Dick asked her as he swallowed a quick cup of coffee in her office. ‘What’s up, Julia? You look as though you haven’t slept at all?’
‘Well, one gets the odd bad night,’ she tried to sound casual and achieved a small smile. ‘The ward’s busy and I suppose I let it prey on my mind too much.’
‘That’s not like you. Perhaps you need another holiday.’ He
spoke jokingly.
‘I’m going to have one—I’m going over to Holland with my brothers and Professor van der Wagema’s son as soon as they start school holidays.’
‘Sounds great. Whereabouts in Holland?’
‘Friesland. I can’t remember the name though.’
‘Well, send me a post card.’ He got up and prepared to leave. ‘Let me know if that BP goes any higher, will you? You’re on this weekend?’
She nodded. ‘It’s take in, too, you’ll be in?’
‘Yes, the professor’s away for a few days.’
His news made the day longer than it really was. And the succeeding days until Thursday seemed endless too; she went on duty uncertain as to whether she would see him. Dick could have told her, of course, but he hadn’t, and she hadn’t asked. She took the night report with her usual calm unflurried air, sent the night nurse off duty, conferred with Pat as to the day’s work and did her usual round, making sure everything was just so; even if the professor wasn’t coming, Dick would be, and he was entitled to as much perfection as his chief expected and got.
At ten o’clock precisely the door opened and the professor walked in, gave her a severe good morning, mentioned that he was rather pressed for time and began his round. It went smoothly, with a minimum of talk, although she had to admit in all fairness that he allowed no hint of haste to reach his patients. Julia passed forms, X-rays, notes, offered information when asked for it and beyond that said not a word, She was conscious of bitter disappointment; she had thought that their friendship was firmly established, but although he had glanced at her once or twice it was with a detached air, as though he couldn’t quite remember who she was and did it matter anyway. The last patient dealt with, she led the way through the ward door held open by a student nurse, and paused on the landing outside her office. Perhaps after all the professor would change his mind and have coffee, although she wasn’t going to ask him. But he merely handed the notes he was carrying to Dick, wished her a polite good morning, and walked off, followed by Dick and his usual cortege of students.
