by Betty Neels
The hospital courtyard was packed with cars for this was an evening when the hospital Board of Governers and their wives, the local Mayor and his wife and those dignitaries who were in some way connected to St Alwyn’s came to grace the occasion. Theodosia slipped in through a side door, found her friends, left her coat with theirs in a small room the cleaners used to store their buckets and brooms and went with them to the Assembly Hall where the ball was already under way.
It looked very festive, with paper chains and a Christmas tree in a corner of the stage where the orchestra was. There were balloons and holly and coloured lights and already there were a great many people dancing. Once there, one by one her friends were claimed and she herself was swept onto the dance floor by one of the technicians from the path lab. She didn’t know him well and he was a shocking dancer but it was better than hovering on the fringe of the dancers, looking as though dancing was the last thing one wanted to do.
When the band stopped, one of the students with whom she had passed the time of day occasionally claimed her. It was a slow foxtrot and he had time to tell her about the postmortem he had attended that morning. She listened carefully, feeling slightly sick, but aware that he was longing to talk about it to someone. There were several encores, so that it was possible for him to relate the very last of the horrid details. When the band stopped finally and he offered to fetch her a drink she accepted thankfully.
She had seen the professor at once, dancing with an elegantly dressed woman, and then again with the sister from Women’s Medical and for a third time with the Mayor’s wife.
And he had seen her, for there was no mistaking that gingery head of hair. When he had danced with all the ladies he was expected to dance with, he made his way round the dancers until he came upon her, eating an ice in the company of the hospital engineer.
He greeted them both pleasantly, and after a few moments of talk with the engineer swept her onto the dance floor.
‘You should ask me first,’ said Theodosia.
‘You might have refused! Are you enjoying yourself?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ And she was, for he danced well and they were slow foxtrotting again. The hospital dignitaries wouldn’t allow any modern dancing; there was no dignity in prancing around waving arms and flinging oneself about … but foxtrotting with a woman you liked was very satisfying, he reflected.
The professor, his eye trained to see details at a glance, had recognised the grey dress. It was pretty in a demure way but it wasn’t her size. He could see the tucks she had taken on the shoulders to make a better fit and the neat seams she had taken in at the waist. It would be a pleasure to take her to a good dress shop and buy her clothes which fitted her person and which were new. He smiled at the absurd thought and asked her with impersonal kindness if she was looking forward to Christmas.
‘Oh, yes, and it will be three days this year because of Sunday coming in between.’ She sounded more enthusiastic than she felt; three days with the aunts wasn’t a very thrilling prospect, but she reminded herself that that was ungrateful. She added, by way of apology for thinking unkindly of them, ‘The great-aunts enjoy an old-fashioned Christmas.’
He could make what he liked of that; it conjured up pictures of a lighted Christmas tree, masses of food and lots of presents; with a party on Boxing Day …
She underestimated the professor’s good sense; he had a very shrewd idea what her Christmas would be like. He glanced down at the ginger topknot. It would be a mistake to pity her; she had no need of that. He had never met anyone so content with life and so willing to be happy as she, but he found himself wishing that her Christmas might be different.
He resisted the urge to dance with her for the rest of the evening, handed her back to the engineer and spent the next few moments in cheerful talk before leaving her there.
It was at the end of the evening that he went looking for her amongst the milling crowd making their way out of the hospital. She was on her way out of the entrance when he found her. He touched her arm lightly.
‘Come along; the car’s close by.’
‘There’s no need … It’s only a short walk … I really don’t …’ She could have saved her breath; she was propelled gently along away from the crowded forecourt, stuffed tidily into the car and told to fasten her seat belt. It was only as he turned out of the forecourt into the street that she tried again. ‘This is quite …’
‘You’re wasting your breath, Theodosia.’ And he had nothing more to say until they reached Mrs Towzer’s house. No lights were on, of course, and the rather shabby street looked a bit scary in the dark; walking back on her own wouldn’t have been very nice …
He got out, opened her door and took the key she had ready in her hand from her, opened the door silently and switched on the dim light in the hall.
Theodosia held out a hand for the key and whispered, ‘Thank you for the lift. Goodnight.’ And took off her shoes.
The professor closed the door without a sound, picked up her shoes and trod silently behind her as she went upstairs. She was afraid that he might make a noise but he didn’t and she had to confess that it was comforting to have him there. Mrs Towzer, with an eye to economy, had installed landing lights which switched off unless one was nippy between landings.
At her own door he took her key, opened the door and switched on the light, gave her back her key and stood aside for her to pass him.
‘Thank you very much,’ said Theodosia, still whispering. ‘Do be careful going downstairs or you’ll be left in the dark, and you will shut the street door?’
The professor assured her in a voice as quiet as her own that he would be careful, and bade her goodnight, pushed her gently into the room and closed the door. Back in his car he wondered why he hadn’t kissed her; he had very much wanted to.
As for Theodosia, tumbling into bed presently, hugging a tolerant Gustavus, her sleepy head was full of a jumble of delightful thoughts, all of them concerning the professor.
Going for a brisk walk in Victoria Park the following afternoon, she told herself that he had just happened to be there and that common politeness had forced him to give her a lift back. She went home and had a good tea then went to evensong, to pray there for a happy week ahead!
She wasn’t sure if it was an answer to her prayers when she received a letter from Great-Aunt Jessica in the morning. She was asked to go to Fortnum & Mason and purchase the items on the enclosed list. ‘And you may bring them down next weekend,’ wrote her aunt.
Theodosia studied the list: ham on the bone, Gentleman’s Relish, smoked salmon, brandy butter, a Stilton cheese, Bath Oliver biscuits, marrons glacés, Earl Grey tea, coffee beans, peaches in brandy … Her week’s wages would barely pay for them, not that she could afford to do that. She peered into the envelope in the forlorn hope of finding a cheque or at least a few bank notes but it was empty. She would have to go to the bank and draw out the small amount of money she had so painstakingly saved. If she skipped her midday dinner she would have time to go to the bank. Great-Aunt Jessica would pay her at the weekend and she could put it back into her account.
It wasn’t until Wednesday that she had the opportunity to miss her dinner. There was no time to spare, so she hurtled down to the entrance, intent on getting a bus.
The professor, on his way to his car, saw her almost running across the forecourt and cut her off neatly before she could reach the street. She stopped in full flight, unable to get past his massive person.
Theodosia said, ‘Hello, Professor,’ and then added, ‘I can’t stop …’
A futile remark with his hand holding her firmly. ‘If you’re in a hurry, I’ll drive you. You can’t run to wherever you’re going like that.’
‘Yes, I can …’
‘Where to?’
She had no need to answer his question yet she did. ‘The bank and then Fortnum & Mason.’
He turned her round and walked her over to his car. Once inside he said, ‘Now tell me w
hy you are in such a hurry to do this.’
He probably used that gentle, compelling voice on his patients, and Theodosia felt compelled once more to answer him. She did so in a rather disjointed manner. ‘So, you see, if you don’t mind I must catch a bus …’
‘I do mind. What exactly do you have to buy?’
She gave him the list. ‘You see, everything on it is rather expensive and, of course, Great-Aunt Jessica doesn’t bother much about money. She’ll pay me at the weekend. That’s why I have to go to the bank.’
‘That will take up too much time,’ said the professor smoothly. ‘We will go straight to Fortnum & Mason; I’ll pay for these and your aunt can pay me. It just so happens,’ he went on in a voice to convince a High Court judge, ‘that I am going to Braintree again on Saturday. I’ll give you a lift and deliver these things at the same time.’
Theodosia opened her mouth to speak, shut it again and then said, ‘But isn’t this your lunch hour?’
‘Most fortunately, yes; now, let us get this shopping down.’
‘Well, if you think it is all right?’
‘Perfectly all right and sensible.’
Once there he ushered her in, handed her list over to a polite young man with the request to have the items packed up and ready within the next half an hour or so, and steered her to the restaurant.
‘The food department will see to it all,’ he told her. ‘So much quicker and in the meantime we can have something to eat.’
Theodosia found her tongue. ‘But ought I not to choose everything?’
‘No, no. Leave everything to the experts; that’s what they are here for. Now, what would you like? We have about half an hour. An omelette with French fries and a salad and a glass of white wine?’
It was a delicious meal and all the more delicious because it was unexpected. Theodosia, still breathless from the speed with which the professor had organised everything, and not sure if she hadn’t been reckless in allowing him to take over in such a high-handed manner, decided to enjoy herself. This was a treat, something which seldom came her way.
So she ate her lunch, drank the wine and a cup of coffee and followed him back to the food hall, to find a box neatly packed and borne out to the car by the doorman. She was ushered into the car, too, and told to wait while the professor went back to pay the bill and tip the doorman.
‘How much was it?’ asked Theodosia anxiously as he got in beside her.
‘Would it be a good idea,’ suggested the professor carefully, ‘if I kept this food at my house? There’s not any need to unpack it; everything on the list is there and I have the receipted bill.’
‘But why should you do that? It may be a great nuisance for you or your wife …’
‘I’m not married, and my housekeeper will stow it safely away until Saturday.’
‘Well, if it’s really no trouble. And how much was it?’
‘I can’t remember exactly, but your aunt must have a good idea of what the food costs and the bill seemed very reasonable to me. It’s in the boot with the food or I would let you have it.’
‘No, no. I’m sure it’s all right. And thank you very much.’
He was driving back to the hospital, taking short cuts so that she had still five minutes of her dinner hour left by the time he stopped in the forecourt. She spent two of those thanking him in a muddled speech, smiling at him, full of her delightful lunch and his kindness and worry that she had taken up too much of his time.
‘A pleasure,’ said the professor, resisting a wish to kiss the tip of her nose. He got out of the car and opened her door and suggested that she had better run.
Despite Miss Prescott’s sharp tongue and ill temper, the rest of her day was viewed through rose-coloured spectacles by Theodosia. She wasn’t sure why she felt happy; of course, it had been marvellous getting her shopping done so easily and having lunch and the prospect of being driven to the aunts’ at the weekend, but it was more than that; it was because the professor had been there. And because he wasn’t married.
She saw nothing of him for the rest of the week but on Friday evening as she left the hospital there was a message for her. Would she be good enough to be ready at ten o’clock in the morning? She would be fetched as before. This time there was no mistaking the twinkle in the head porter’s eye as he told her. Over the years he had passed on many similar messages but never before from the professor.
‘We’re going to the aunts’ again,’ Theodosia told Gustavus. ‘In that lovely car. You’ll like that, won’t you?’
She spent a happy evening getting ready for the morning, washing her hair, examining her face anxiously for spots, doing her nails, and putting everything ready for breakfast in the morning. It would never do to keep the professor waiting.
She went down to the front door punctually in the morning to find him already there, leaning against Mrs Towzer’s door, listening to that lady’s detailed descriptions of her varicose veins with the same quiet attention he would have given any one of his private patients. Mrs Towzer, seeing Theodosia coming downstairs, paused. ‘Well, I’ll tell you the rest another time,’ she suggested. ‘You’ll want to be on your way, the pair of you.’
She winked and nodded at him and Theodosia went pink as she wished them both a rather flustered good morning, trying not to see the professor’s faint smile. But it was impossible to feel put out once she was sitting beside him as he drove off. Indeed she turned and waved to Mrs Towzer, for it seemed wrong to feel so happy while her landlady was left standing at her shabby front door with nothing but rows of similar shabby houses at which to look.
It was a gloomy morning and cold, with a leaden sky.
‘Will it snow?’ asked Theodosia.
‘Probably, but not just yet. You’ll be safely at your great-aunts’ by then.’
He glanced at her. ‘Will you be going to see them again before Christmas?’
‘No, this is an unexpected visit so that I could buy all those things.’ In case he was thinking that she was angling for another lift she added, ‘I expect you’ll be at home for Christmas?’
He agreed pleasantly in a voice which didn’t invite more questions so she fell silent. When the silence became rather too long, she began to talk about the weather, that great stand-by of British conversation.
But she couldn’t talk about that for ever. She said, ‘I won’t talk any more; I expect you want to think. You must have a lot on your mind.’
The professor debated with himself whether he should tell her that he had her on his mind, increasingly so with every day that passed. But if he did he would frighten her away. Being friendly was one thing but he sensed that she would fight shy of anything more. He was only too well aware that he was considered by her to be living on a different plane and that their paths would never meet. She was friendly because she was a girl who would be friends with anyone. It was in her nature to be kind and helpful and to like those she met and worked with. Even the redoubtable Miss Prescott.
He said now, ‘There is no need to make polite conversation with you, Theodosia; do you not feel the same?’
‘Well, yes, I do. I mean, it’s nice to be with someone and not have to worry about whether they were wishing you weren’t there.’
His rather stern mouth twitched. ‘Very well put, Theodosia. Shall we have coffee at Great Dunmow?’
They sat a long while over coffee. The professor showed no signs of hurry. His questions were casual but her answers told him a great deal. She wouldn’t admit to loneliness or worry about her future; her answers were cheerful and hopeful. She had no ambitions to be a career girl, only to have a steady job and security.
‘You wouldn’t wish to marry?’
‘Oh, but I would—but not to anyone, you understand,’ she assured him earnestly. ‘But it would be nice to have a husband and a home; and children.’
‘So many young women want a career—to be a lawyer, or a doctor, or a high-powered executive.’
She shook her h
ead. ‘Not me; I’m not clever to start with.’
‘You don’t need to be clever to marry?’ He smiled a little.
‘Not that sort of clever. But being married isn’t just a job, is it? It’s a way of life.’
‘And I imagine a very pleasant one if one is happily married.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Perhaps we had better get on …’
At the great-aunts’ house Mrs Trickey, in the same hat, admitted them and ushered them into the drawing room. Aunt Jessica got up to greet them but Aunt Mary stayed in her chair, declaring in a rather vinegary voice that the cold weather had got into her poor old bones, causing her to be something of an invalid. Theodosia kissed her aunts, sympathised with Aunt Mary and hoped that she wasn’t expecting to get free medical treatment from their visitor. She had no chance to say more for the moment since Aunt Jessica was asking Theodosia if she had brought the groceries with her.
The professor greeted the two ladies with just the right amount of polite pleasure, and now he offered to fetch the box of food into the house.
‘The kitchen?’ he wanted to know.
‘No, no. We shall unpack it here; Mrs Trickey can put it all away once that is done. You have the receipted bill, Theodosia?’
‘Well, actually, Professor Bendinck has it. He paid for everything. I hadn’t enough money.’ She could see that that wasn’t enough to satisfy the aunts. ‘We met going out of the hospital. I was trying to get to the bank to get some money. To save time, because it was my dinner hour, he kindly drove me to Fortnum & Mason and gave them your order and paid for it.’
Aunt Mary looked shocked. ‘Really, Theodosia, a young girl should not take any money from a gentleman.’
But Aunt Jessica only smiled. ‘Well, dear, we are grateful to Professor Bendinck for his help. I’ll write a cheque …’
‘Perhaps you would let Theodosia have it? She can let me have it later. I shall be calling for her tomorrow evening.’
Aunt Mary was still frowning. ‘I suppose you had spent all your money on clothes—young women nowadays seem to think of nothing else.’
