by Isobel Chace
She could not bring herself to tell him immediately. I’ll allow myself this one day, she told herself, tomorrow I shall tell him. Tomorrow when I’ve had time to look at this moment.
So when he came back she was quite quiet. If he noticed that she wasn’t very talkative, he evidently thought that it wasn’t very surprising, for he started up the car immediately and drove away rapidly into the approaching dusk.
‘Would you mind dropping me at the hospital?’ Sara said when they were approaching that building. ‘I’ve left the jeep there and I shall need it in the morning.’
He smiled at her. It was hard to see him looking so content and pleased with life. What could possibly be making him so? Surely the kiss couldn’t have had any great effect on him?
‘Looks like someone else has had the same idea,’ he drawled, indicating an approaching cloud of dust. ‘Can’t make out who it is yet, can you?’
Sara peered into the distance.
‘Looks like a Volkswagen van,’ she suggested.
‘Might be Willy Friedrich,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I wonder what he can want.’
He put his foot down hard on the accelerator and the car spurted forward. If she had been driving, Sara would have been nervous of travelling at such a speed, but she was quite confident with Matt at the wheel. He was much the best driver on the estate, she thought, and wondered why such a small thing should give her so much secret pleasure.
They got to the hospital only a second or so behind Herr Friedrich.
‘Anything the matter?’ Matt called out to him.
A small man leapt out of the Volkswagen.
‘Ah, Matt, my friend!’ he exclaimed. ‘It is my child! I have brought her to your hospital, but she is very ill!’ He wrung his hands in his dismay. ‘Is your doctor here?’ he asked.
Matt looked inquiringly at Sara.
‘I’m afraid that he will be at his house at the moment,’ she said, the mantle of authority flowing on to her. ‘If you would let me see your daughter, Matt could ring Dr. Cengupta and he will be here in a matter of moments.’
She smiled confidently at the little German and began walking over to the Volkswagen.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was easy to see the child was sick. She lay on the seat in the back of the van, her tiny form flushed and her eyes sleepy.
‘Hullo, sweetheart,’ Sara greeted her, her heart contracting with pity for the tiny little girl.
‘Papa!’ the child whimpered.
The child’s father peered over Sara’s shoulder.
‘Mein Gott!’ he said pathetically. ‘Vat can be ze matter vith her?’
‘She’ll be all right,’ Sara reassured him. ‘Can she speak any English?’
He shook his head regretfully. ‘She is too small for lessons,’ he explained. ‘And my wife and I speak always German together.’
‘I expect we shall manage,’ Sara smiled, with considerably more confidence than she felt. She herself spoke no German and she thought it likely that the little girl would be with them for some time to come.
With care, she lifted her up from the seat and carried her into the hospital. Fretfully the little girl began to cry. Sara laid her down gently on one of the beds and held her hand to comfort her.
‘Did she show signs of having a bad cold?’ she asked.
‘She may have done,’ Herr Friedrich said doubtfully. ‘I was away from home. But my wife say nothing.’
They looked up as Matt came back from the telephone. He came over to the bed and smiled down at the little patient.
‘Well, libeling?’ he asked her.
Slowly she began to smile at him, muttering an indistinct word or two of German.
‘That’s fine,’ he told her. ‘You keep that up and Dr. Cengupta will think we’ve called him out for nothing!’
But when the Indian doctor arrived he looked grave.
‘I think we shall have to keep her,’ he said. ‘I suspect that she has polio.’
They all flinched away from the word.
‘But surely not!’ Matt exclaimed. ‘It’s so rare out here!’
‘It is always rare in countries where the standards of hygiene are not one hundred per cent,’ Dr. Cengupta said bleakly. ‘Or rather it is not so serious because almost everyone has a mild dose and speedily recovers, thinking they have had no more than a bad headache for a day or so. But there are cases. There is no need to despair,’ he went on to the little girl’s father. ‘Nurse Wayne is fresh out from England and she has nursed many cases. I too did my training in London. Your daughter shall have every care.’
‘But the hospital, it is small,’ Herr Friedrich said scornfully. ‘She should go to Dar-es-Salaam, no? I fly her there, there are many doctors!’
‘You may of course do that,’ the Indian agreed smoothly, ‘but I should not advise it. She will be better if she is kept quiet.’
‘It is impossible!’ the German exclaimed. ‘Never would my wife allow her to have an ayah, yet here you have an African nurse. The little one would be afraid.’
Matt gave an impatient motion to his head.
‘I don’t think you need worry,’ he said stiffly. ‘Nurse Wayne is more than competent and she will be undertaking the nursing of your daughter.’
‘Indeed? It is true?’
‘Certainly,’ Dr. Cengupta agreed gently. ‘It shall be arranged. I think it would be best for the little girl, and that is what matters, is it not?’
He was not at all sure, but he gave way already thinking of yet a greater problem, the problem of how he was going to break the news to his wife.
‘How to tell her? How to tell her?’ he muttered over and over again, while Sara gently eased the little girl out of her clothes and into the bed that looked several sizes too big for her.
‘We shall have to take precautions to keep her isolated, nurse,’ Dr. Cengupta reminded her. ‘I shall take Herr Friedrich to my office and then I shall come back and we shall see what can be done for the little one.’
Firmly he removed the German from the ward, leaving Sara to cope as best she could.
‘Well, I’ll be off,’ Matt said heavily. ‘I’m sorry you’re landed with this, but it would be so much better if we could persuade the small farmers to come in with us over the hospital.’
‘It wouldn’t have done her much good to be moved either,’ Sara smiled.
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘But it means we shan’t be able to see much of each other!’
She shook her head. Now was the time that she ought to tell him that she was not going to marry him. It wouldn’t be fair to let him go without telling him. She might be stuck in the hospital for days and by that time he would have told all his relations. It would be far worse telling him then! She opened her mouth, but no sound came.
‘Look after yourself,’ he said lightly. He took a step towards her and kissed her gently on the forehead. ‘Why do you have to have such a dangerous job?’ he asked her teasingly. ‘I shan’t get a moment’s peace until this is over!’
She laughed at his concern. ‘Don’t be silly!’ she admonished him. ‘I’ve had all my shots!’
With one finger he flicked her lightly on the nose. ‘Remind me to tell you something when all this is over,’ he said. ‘Something important, that I should have told you before.’
She nodded. She had a lump in her throat that prevented her from saying anything, and when she looked up again he had gone.
With a sigh she began to fit up curtains over the doors of the ward. She would have to write him now. She just couldn’t leave things as they were!
Little Hedda fought every inch of the way. There was no doubt about the little girl’s courage. And Sara fought beside her, massaging her limbs and doing everything she could to see that the virus left as few effects as possible.
One day turned into another and still the battle went on, until a whole week had gone by. From the windows of the hospital, Sara had watched the various arrivals of different members of the Ha
lifax family and had wondered how Matt was getting on with them. Once she had seen him in Julia’s car — only a fleeting glance, but more than sufficient to set her fussing over Hedda’s bed until even the matron of the London hospital where she had trained would have singled out the bed for a word of approbation.
She felt strangely cut off from the world. It was true that there was nothing to stop her from using the telephone, but she had nothing to say to Matt and to ring up anyone else seemed strangely pointless.
Then at last came the day when Hedda was allowed out of bed. She was still very weak, but there was no sign of the polio having left any paralysis. Dr. Cengupta and she exchanged quiet grins of satisfaction and celebrated with pan that Kamala had sent down when she heard the good news.
With no excuse for dallying any longer, Sara finally got out her writing case and settled down to the painful task of writing to Matt.
Dear Matt—
What could one say? I have changed my mind and won’t marry you after all? Too abrupt. I am sure you will agree that we are not really suited in spite of our very real liking for each other? That wouldn’t do either.
It was a relief when she was called to the telephone,
‘Is that Sara?’ Mrs. Halifax’s voice asked.
‘Yes, yes, it is,’ Sara agreed.
‘My dear! What have you been thinking of me? I have been meaning to get hold of you every day! Such a blow that poor child going down with polio! Matt was almost frantic! You can have no idea what it’s been like here. Perhaps it’s as well because you would certainly think twice about marrying into the family! But what I really wanted to say — I am doing this badly, aren’t I? — was to tell you how happy I am! I knew, of course! As soon as I set eyes on you after that awful time you had at Sonjo. They say that mothers always know when a girl falls in love with their son, don’t they? Or do they say something else about it? You can be sure it’s something unpleasant! People are always unpleasant about mothers-in-law. Can’t think why! Mine was quite charming! So much nicer than my own mother, you know. Perhaps you’d better say something, dear, while I catch my breath!’
‘I — I can’t think what to say,’ Sara stammered, feeling rather foolish. ‘I mean, I’m very happy too.’ Now why on earth had she said that?
‘Are you? Matt said he wasn’t sure.’
Sara thought for a moment. ‘Oh,’ she said.
Mrs. Halifax chuckled. ‘How very non-committal,’ she said. ‘When are you allowed out? Because I feel we ought to give some sort of party while the family is here to celebrate. Do you mind?’
‘I should love it,’ Sara heard herself saying with every appearance of enthusiasm. ‘We’re not in quarantine any longer.’
‘Good. I’ll fix it up for the week-end, then. Saturday probably, with full regalia. I’ll let you know, my dear. Meanwhile you know how welcome you are! And don’t pay any attention to the stories the family will tell you, will you? I know you wouldn’t be so silly, but really, David’s sense of humour has become rather embarrassing in the last year or so! Then that’s all settled?’
‘Yes, and — and thank you, Mrs. Halifax. I’ve never believed in mother-in-law jokes either, and I think Matt made a very good choice in his mother.’
There was a choked silence.
‘You’ve made me cry now,’ Mrs. Halifax told her. ‘Oh dear, and I do hate people who get all emotional! I shall have to slink up to my room and repair the damage.’
‘I’m crying too,’ Sara confessed. ‘Could it be because we’re happy?’
Mrs. Halifax laughed, a rather shaky laugh, it was true, but with genuine amusement nevertheless.
‘I’m going to ring off,’ she said, ‘before I disgrace myself entirely.’
Sara heard the familiar little click that meant she had been as good as her word, and, smiling a little, replaced her own receiver.
Back in the ward her letter glared up at her:
Dear Matt—
With deliberation she tore the sheet off the pad and into small pieces, letting them fall through her fingers into the waste paper basket.
Papa!’ said Hedda, and began to spread the pieces all over the floor.
To be out of the hospital with a whole free day to herself in which to prepare for the dance was a luxury Sara had not expected. Herr Friedrich had called for his now convalescent daughter early that morning, his face wreathed in smiles, full of thanks for the care they had given her.
‘Vat vould ve haf done vidout you?’ he asked, becoming harder to understand every moment.
‘You would have flown her to Dar-es-Salaam,’ Sara reminded him.
But it was a good thing that she could have treatment so quickly.’
When the time came, Hedda had been reluctant to leave.
‘Nurse,’ she cried to Sara’s surprise. ‘Papa!’ she added doubtfully.
‘She learn English, yes?’ her father crooned with pride. ‘Soon she speak better than her papa, no?’
‘Papa,’ Hedda repeated even more doubtfully.
But at last they really had gone and apart from cleaning up the ward, Sara was free for the rest of the day.
Already the hot sun was beating down on the scorched grass and the jeep was so hot to her touch that she cried out when she knocked herself against the metalwork by accident. Then slowly, savouring every moment of her freedom, she drove slowly home.
There were three figures lying in deck chairs on the verandah. Sara could see them from a long way off because of the sombreros they affected to keep the sun out of their eyes. One of the figures was lazily waving a homemade fan to the rhythm of her own rather complicated humming. This figure turned out to be Felicity.
‘Hullo, stranger,’ she greeted Sara lazily. ‘Are you still living here?’
She sounded content, with a buttery contentment that was unlike her.
‘I do,’ Sara replied cheerfully, ‘off and on!’
‘Mainly off,’ James grunted. ‘I should know because I’ve been parked in your room until the invasion is over!’
Sara felt a moment’s annoyance. And just what was she expected to do? she wondered. Continue sleeping at the hospital?
‘By the way,’ said the third person, who was John Halliday, ‘Julia was looking all over for you. She said she wanted to know the colour of your dress so that Matt could do you up a corsage from the garden!’
‘And what did she really want?’ Felicity asked.
John grinned, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ he said, ‘but I’d say she was gunning for someone!’
‘Pour me out some lemon juice, slave,’ James demanded, giving Felicity’s chair a kick with a lazy foot.
‘Get it yourself!’ she retorted.
He shrugged his shoulders and sauntered over to the table where the drinks had been put by a thoughtful African.
‘Take my chair, Sara,’ he said. ‘You look as though a bit of peace would go down well with you.’
She thanked him, but shook her head.
‘I want to have a bath and change,’ she told him. ‘Mind if I look out some clothes?’
Help yourself, lady.’ He put an idle arm around her shoulders. ‘Know something, cousin-to-be? The Waynes and I have buried the hatchet.’
‘You mean you’ve told her?’ Sara asked.
He nodded. ‘I thought I’d better seeing I was moving into the house. It wasn’t so bad really. She seemed to be expecting something of the sort. She even acknowledged that I might some day grow up sufficiently to stand on my own two feet!’
‘And will you?’ she teased him.
‘Now don’t you start!’ he groaned. ‘Can’t you see, woman, the sea change that has been wrought in me?’ Sara looked him over. ‘You know, now that you mention it, I rather think I can,’ she told him, more seriously than she had intended. He bowed, acknowledging her remark, and smiled at her.
‘As great a change as in your garden, if you did but know,’ he confirmed. �
��Dangerous-looking pits at the back and all!’
‘What dangerous-looking pits?’
‘Ain’t you seen them?’ John drawled. ‘Guess somebody didn’t bring enough earth for back there. Maybe Matt had to call the work off until after the family had come and gone.’
‘It looks all right on this side anyway,’ Felicity said with satisfaction. ‘And so long as we all know they’re there, they’re not doing any harm at the back. None of us are likely to go out that way.’
And so Sara thought no more about it.
Mrs. Wayne was sleeping in the sitting-room, so she crept past the open doorway and went round to the side of the house. The sun was well overhead by now and her room was dark and cool in contrast to the glare outside. Quickly she slipped out of her uniform and found herself some clean underclothes and a freshly ironed cotton frock.
It was exhilarating under the shower, with the cold water tingling against her flesh and the subtle perfume of the soap getting into her nostrils and relaxing her. This was one of the moments she liked best after a long, hard case. The moment when she could wash all her anxieties about it away and become herself again.
She dressed rapidly and went back to her room to make up and to do her hair, carrying her towel over her arm. The voices on the verandah had become louder and more social. She wondered if someone had come to visit them and hoped not, but hardly had she finished applying her lipstick than she heard a voice in the doorway asking: ‘May I come in?’
Startled, she turned quickly to see that it was Julia.
‘Of course,’ she said pleasantly. ‘But I’ve practically finished here. Shall we go outside?’
Julia gave her a rather complicated smile and sat down on the edge of the bed.
‘The little nurse didn’t do too badly for herself, did she?’ she commented silkily. ‘Congratulations.’
