by Betty Neels
She was in her dressing gown, sitting by the gas fire when he came and he said at once: ‘Ah, better, I see. Good, Pat wanted to come and see you but I advised her not to, there was no point in her catching your cold. How do you feel?’
He put his case down and took her pulse and told her to put out her tongue. ‘You’re on at one o’clock tomorrow, aren’t you? Well, go on duty and see how you feel at the end of the day. Now don’t be silly, if you don’t feel the thing by the evening, take another day off. Promise?’
She nodded. ‘I’m perfectly all right, thank you.’
‘Yes, I know you are,’ he said with heavy patience, ‘that’s why I said that you might go back tomorrow. You’ll have Pat there until the evening and she knows what to do.’
Julia shot him a green glance. ‘I’m quite able to run my ward, Professor.’
‘Yes, yes, don’t get all worked up. I should have said that she will know what to do if you don’t feel quite the thing.’
Julia mumbled sorry and anxious to make amends, offered tea.
‘A good idea. I’ll make it. Nicky is very anxious about you.’
‘Nicky? Is he? He is a dear boy—I like him. Please tell him that I’m fine and looking forward to seeing him.’
‘I have ‘phoned your mother…’
Julia turned a surprised face to his. ‘Did you? That was kind, I was going to ring her this evening.’
‘Well, you still can, although I can’t see the sense of traipsing down that draughty staircase and catching another cold. Can’t you ‘phone from your office tomorrow?’
‘You must know,’ she told him severely, ‘that nursing staff aren’t allowed to use the ward ‘phones.’
‘Well, of course I know.’ He handed her a cup of tea. ‘But don’t tell me that the rule isn’t broken.’
‘Well, perhaps, just now and then.’ She tossed back her red mane. ‘All right I’ll wait until tomorrow.’ She remembered something. ‘And thank you for asking my landlady to bring me meals. How on earth did you ever persuade her? She’s a good landlady as they go, I suppose, but she believes in keeping oneself to oneself at all times.’
‘So I should imagine. Shall I wash your hair for you?’
She goggled at him. ‘Wash my…? I’m going to do it before I go to bed. Does it look awful then?’
‘You have very beautiful hair and it doesn’t look awful, well—not too awful. You always keep it clean and shining.’
She cast about for a suitable answer to this and could think of none. The professor watching her, smiled a little. ‘What will you do with Wellington while we are away?’
‘Take him home. I’ve a day off in the week before we go. He’ll be quite happy with Gyp and the cats. It’s much more fun for him there; with a garden and more room.’
He agreed gravely, put down his cup and prepared to go. He said, suddenly smooth: ‘I’ve a date this evening, I shall be late if I don’t go now. Take care of yourself and finish the pills, won’t you?’
‘Thank you for coming,’ said Julia sedately, wondering furiously who the date was with. Perhaps his fiancée had come back with him if he’d been in Holland. She longed to ask but instead uttered a polite good night. The room felt very empty when he’d gone.
She felt so much better the next morning that she spent it cleaning the flat, getting groceries from the corner shop and taking extra pains with her appearance. Her hair, smooth and shining once more, she pinned up as she always did, but with time on her hands, she spent ages over her face. A silly thing to do actually. Lauris wouldn’t be at the hospital and he hadn’t mentioned seeing her again, but there was always the faint hope…
So faint that by the time she was ready to go off duty that evening, it had died. She had been busy; the ward was full and there were things to catch up with; things Pat had left for her to do, and there were several new patients to see. She was tired by eight o’clock and glad to hurry through the wintry, bleak streets and climb the stairs to her flat.
Wellington, without company after a couple of days of having her all to himself, fell about with pleasure at the sight of her and then gobbled his supper and fell instantly asleep. Julia yawned widely. ‘Bed,’ she observed to the unconscious beast, ‘but I suppose I must make some supper first.’
She was a good housewife and there was plenty in her small store cupboard, but the prospect of having to cook wasn’t inviting. She was trying to decide between soup and toasted cheese when someone knocked on the door. Supper, she thought hopefully, perhaps her landlady was still feeling the effects of Lauris’s charm?
She called come in and the professor opened the door.
‘I had intended to be here by the time you got back,’ he told her without wasting time on a hullo, ‘but circumstances prevented me.’
He put a cardboard box on the table. ‘I’ve brought our supper: I’m sure you don’t feel well enough to go out.’
Julia stood with her mouth slightly agape, staring at him. ‘Supper?’ she asked like an idiot. ‘I was just going to toast some cheese…’
‘Throw it out of the window.’ He lifted out a thermos and a couple of plastic containers. ‘Put a cloth on the table there’s a good girl,’ he begged.
They sat down presently opposite each other, the professor as matter-of-fact as though he was in the habit of calling on people and bringing his food with him; Julia in a bit of a daze because it was all rather unexpected.
The soup was delicious—’Martha’s best,’ commented Lauris, and the cold chicken and salad were superb. ‘And where on earth did you get strawberries at this time of year?’ Julia wanted to know. She hadn’t known that she was hungry; she ate everything put before her while her companion kept up a trickle of light conversation.
Over coffee presently, she thanked him. ‘And I can’t think why you take so much trouble,’ she finished.
He gave her a level look. ‘Nicky is most anxious that you should be quite fit for your visit to Holland,’ he told her. Which was somehow a disappointing answer.
He didn’t linger once they had finished, but put the remains of their meal back in the box, washed the crockery despite her strong protests, bade her a friendly good night, got into his coat, and left as quickly as he had come.
‘The strangest man,’ said Julia to the closed door, ‘but how I love him.’
She allowed herself ten minutes’ day dreaming, and then, telling herself that she was a fool to waste her time, went to bed.
She was still young, and healthy with it; she was back into the routine of the ward by the next day and by the time the professor did his next round she was her usual calm self, giving proper answers to his questions, her mind bent on the task in hand and later on, as she and Dick and the professor drank their coffee, she discussed the Christmas preparations in a matter-of-fact way; she had them all organised by now; there was nothing much more to be done, she would be able to go away for a few days knowing that everything was in train. Of course, she had no intention of telling him that they were transforming the ward into a Dutch scene; those women who were able were already making paper flowers and the most junior of the student nurses had turned out to be quite an artist. He would see it all when he arrived on Christmas morning to carve the turkey.
The days slid by, and Julia, immersed in work, hardly noticed them passing. The weather had turned cold with a sullen wind and grey skies and an occasional downpour of rain. Hardly the weather for a holiday she thought, catching a train home with Wellington in his basket. She was going for the day; her other free day she intended adding on to her leave so that she would have the leisure to pack and do her nails and hair and stock up her cupboard ready for Christmas. She wouldn’t be going home again until the very end of the year and she had the presents for the family with her.
Her mother was having a baking day; the boys would be home for Christmas and Madge and Jim and little Harry would be there too. ‘A pity you can’t get home, love,’ observed Mrs Mitchell, ‘we’ll have t
o make up for that later. Will you be free at all?’
‘An hour or two, Mother, but I can’t count on it. It’s Pat’s turn to be off this year and the nurses each have one free day. But there’s plenty to do on the ward, you know and the other nurses come visiting to see the decorations…’
‘Yes, dear,’ persisted her mother, ‘but when you go back to that little flat of yours you’ll be alone.’
‘I’ll have Wellington and I daresay I’ll be glad to be quiet and that I shan’t mind at all.’ She spoke cheerfully, aware that she would be very lonely indeed, thinking of Lauris, cosily sitting by his fire in his lovely house, with Nicky to keep him company and the animals and Martha in the kitchen cooking some delicacy. She ate a mince pie from the plateful her mother had put on the table and when she was asked, said that yes, she was quite ready to go on holiday.
‘The boys are so excited. Where are you meeting everyone?’
Julia took a bite of pie. ‘I don’t know. I expect Lauris will tell me. He’s one of those people who arrange everything and then lets you know at the last minute.’
She went back to her flat in the evening, laden with presents from the family and with a batch of mince pies. Without Wellington the flat seemed very inhospitable.
It wasn’t until the day before she was to go on holiday that Lauris at the end of his round told her casually to be ready at seven o’clock. ‘That will give you time to change after duty,’ he pointed out unnecessarily. ‘We’ll wait outside the flat. We’re going on the Harwich night ferry.’
He had gone before she could frame a single question.
CHAPTER NINE
JULIA HAD HOPED to get off duty punctually so that she would have time to do everything at her ease; she had had to scrap her day off because one of the part-time staff nurses was off sick. Luckily she had had the forethought to put everything ready to pack before she had gone on duty that morning. She almost ran to the flat when at last she got off the ward; she had an hour which was better than nothing but she had meant to be ready with time to spare so that by the time the car came for her she would be at her best. As it was, rather red in the face from running and then too hot a shower, she packed a rather nice wool crepe dress the colour of her eyes, slacks, a couple of thick sweaters and blouses and a pair of very expensive shoes about which she had always felt guilty but now felt justified in buying; they went so well with the dress. She had already filled her good leather handbag with her passport, some Dutch money, her cheque book and an assortment of useful odds and ends; safety pins, snaps of her baby nephew, a lucky charm she wouldn’t have dreamt of leaving behind, a pocket screw driver Jason had given her for some reason or other and of course her make-up. It only remained for her to put on her tweed suit and a cashmere jumper, ram the velvet beret on her head, put her thick gloves and quilted jacket ready by her case and go to the window to watch for the Rolls.
It was already there, a minute or two early, and she picked up her things and made for the door. Lauris was on the landing. He took her case from her, said: ‘Good girl,’ kissed her swiftly and led the way downstairs. Julia following him, thought crossly, that he never gave her the chance to say anything. If she had managed to get a good evening in first, it might have stopped him kissing her. On reflection, she was glad that she had no opportunity to speak.
The three boys were in the back of the Rolls. They were in the highest of spirits and getting into the car she was greeted with shouts of pleasure as the professor stowed her in the front seat and then went back to put her case in the boot.
They were all talking at once when he came back and it seemed that he shared their good spirits for they were all laughing and talking as he drove off. Julia wondered briefly what she had let herself in for.
The professor drove steadily through the East End, through Ilford and Romford and Brentwood and then on to Chelmsford and thence to Colchester and the road to Harwich. But before they reached that town the professor stopped outside a Happy Eater roadside café and ushered them all inside for coffee. It was warm inside, the air was flavoured with frying bacon and chips and the three boys looked hungry. The professor came back with a tray of coffee and Gregory, who’d gone with him to help, bore a plate of doughnuts, which the boys devoured like young wolves. Julia, who hadn’t eaten much all day found her mouth watering and was relieved when the professor observed that they would have dinner just as soon as they got on board.
They went on their way again presently and, shepherded through Customs and out of the car in the ship’s garage, they were conducted to their cabins. ‘The dining room in fifteen minutes,’ the boys were reminded as they were left at their cabin door. And a moment later outside her own cabin: ‘Can you be ready in five minutes? Meet me in the bar, we’ll have a drink before we’re overwhelmed.’
It was amazing what one could do in the space of five minutes to improve one’s person. Julia found her way to the bar with a few seconds to spare and found Lauris already there. ‘Sherry?’ he asked her as she settled on a stool beside him.
She nodded happily; tomorrow she wouldn’t be so happy; she would meet the girl he was going to marry and her heart would break. She had been a fool to come she supposed, but on the other hand she wanted to see what kind of a girl he had chosen.
‘You’re thinking dire thoughts,’ said Lauris gently. ‘We are, after all, on holiday, you know.’
She lifted her glass. ‘Not dire at all. Here’s to a delightful day or two. The boys are beside themselves, aren’t they?’
He nodded. ‘You’ll be worn out by the time we come back; they have so many plans I doubt if we will get to bed at all; there’ll be no time.’
‘I’m not sure just where we’re going…’
‘Friesland—in the north. Near Leeuwarden. A village near some lakes. I think you’ll like it.’
‘Is it like your home in London?’
‘Not in the least.’
He didn’t add to that so she said presently: ‘Nicky said that you had a cottage near Winchester…’
‘We go there a good deal in the summer when I can get away—I fetch him on a Sunday from school. It’s small and isolated and quite delightful. He has a pony there. There’s a farm not far away, the daughter of the house looks after the cottage and the pony when we’re away. I dare say it will get used a good deal more often when I’m married.’
‘Your—your fiancée likes the country?’
‘Oh yes. Shall we find the boys?’
A gentle snub. She accompanied him to the restaurant and they found the three boys looking famished. They hadn’t quite finished their meal when the ship sailed and there was an instant request that they should go on deck.
‘Please, Father,’ begged Nicholas. ‘Julia is dying to go, aren’t you, Julia?’
She said instantly: ‘I can’t wait. Could we come back for our coffee? We wouldn’t stay long would we?’
They trooped on deck to stand briefly in the cold to watch the Essex coast fade into the dark, and at the professor’s quiet word went back again.
Julia, followed them thankfully, for it had been icy outside, heard the professor murmur in her ear. ‘What a splendid mother you will make, Julia. I can see you playing cricket while the dinner burns.’
She laughed with a sad heart, because his words had conjured up a pleasant picture of several little Laurises wielding cricket bats while their father bowled.
It was a rough crossing but she was too tired to mind that. She slept soundly and joined the boys and the professor for breakfast, instantly drawn into a discussion as to the exact distance they would have to drive.
It was a cold dark morning but that made no difference to the good spirits of the party. They were very excited, the boys, the professor quietly pleased to be in his own country and Julia just happy to be sitting beside him again as he nosed the car away from the customs shed and started north.
The professor sent the Rolls surging ahead, bypassing Den Haag and Amsterdam, taking the mot
orway to Alkmaar. The boys talked non-stop, asking endless questions which he answered with patient good humour. Julia was quiet, a prey to mixed feelings, and he, after a quick glance at her face, said nothing.
Just south of Alkmaar he took a side road, winding between water meadows and running through widely scattered villages, and presently drew up outside a large hotel restaurant set back from the road among trees. The boys needed no second bidding to get out and went ahead, leaving Julia and Lauris to follow.
They went up the path together, his arm tucked in hers. ‘We’re almost on the Afsluitdijk,’ he told her, ‘another hour or so and we’ll be home.’ He didn’t tell her more than that and anyway there wasn’t much chance; the boys were already sitting at a table in the comfortable restaurant and impatient for their coffee. The talk became animated as they drank the fragrant brew and the boys, always hungry, ate Kaas broodjes as they tossed plans, half of which they would never have the time to carry out, to and fro across the table. But they didn’t linger; half an hour later they were on their way again to the great sluices which led them on to the twenty-mile long dyke connecting North Holland with Friesland.
The road ahead of them was almost empty, with the high wall of the dyke shutting out the sea on one side, and on the other the Ijsselmeer, dull and grey in the reluctant light of morning. But the paucity of the view did nothing to dampen the boy’s high spirits; indeed, by the time they reached land again Nicholas was singing the Friese National Anthem and trying to make Jason and Gregory sing it too. The professor obligingly translated it for Julia’s benefit.
‘Frisian blood, rise up and boil,’ he explained gravely with a twinkle in his dark eyes.
‘How very rousing! Is Nicky singing in Dutch?’
‘No, in the Friesian Language. If you look at the sign-posts, you’ll see that the names are written in both Dutch and Friesian.’
She looked obediently out of the window at a passing signpost and naturally enough couldn’t make head or tail of it.
They turned away from the main road once they had reached the mainland on to a motorway which ran down the Ijsselmeer coast to Bolsward, where Lauris turned away from the town to take narrow country roads, some of them of brick and running along dykes. The land was flat and open but there were clumps of trees here and there, and large prosperous looking farms. There was a glimpse of water from time to time and Nicky said excitedly: ‘We skate there if it’s cold enough, Julia, and in the summer we sail. Can you sail a boat?’
