by Betty Neels
‘And very nice too, although I do appreciate that it might not do under a sister’s cap.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ her voice was matter-of-fact, ‘it took hours and I’d never have time in the morning.’
He stooped and picked up a pebble and threw it for Fred, so that they had to stand and wait while he shuffled after it. ‘Yes, I daresay, but surely after a little practice you would be quicker?’
She accepted Fred’s proffered pebble and gave him an affectionate pat before she replied: ‘I suppose I could try. But what’s the point?’
‘Why, to prove to yourself that you aren’t plain, of course.’
Tabitha felt temper well up inside her. ‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous,’ she cried, ‘and stop patronizing me just because you’re sorry for me. You’ve got Lilith…’
They were off the Cobb now, climbing the steep road to the footpath. She started to run, not looking back, and didn’t stop until she was almost at the end of the path, with Chidlake in sight across the fields.
She went back before tea, pleading an interview with Matron which couldn’t be avoided. That Matron would wish to interview any of her staff on a Sunday was highly improbable, but it was the only excuse Tabitha had been able to think of and in any case neither of her listeners were sufficiently interested to want to know more. She said her goodbyes thankfully and drove the Fiat out of the gate and up the hill, away from the village and the sea. At the top she stopped and looked back. It was a very clear day, Chidlake stood out sharply against its panoramic background. She could see every window and every chimney, even the roses at the front door. She saw something else too—the Bentley gliding up the hill below the house, then turning in at its gate to stop before the door. She didn’t wait to see Mr van Beek get out, but started the little car’s engine with a savagery quite alien to her nature and drove, a great deal faster than was her habit, back to her own little flat.
CHAPTER THREE
TABITHA had regained her usual calm by the time Mr van Beek arrived on the ward the next day. She wished him good morning in a stony voice and pretended not to see his swift glance at the fiercely screwed-up bun beneath her starched cap. She led him firmly round the ward, speaking when spoken to and not otherwise, and then only on matters connected with her patients’ broken limbs. George Steele and Tommy looked at her first with astonishment and then frankly puzzled, and when George enquired, sotto voce, if she was sickening for something and had his head bitten off for his pains, they exchanged a bewildered look, for this wasn’t their good-natured Tabby at all. Only Mr van Beek, going impassively about his business, appeared oblivious of anything amiss. At Mr Bow’s bedside he paused for a minute after examining the leg exposed for his inspection.
‘You’re doing well, Knotty,’ he offered. ‘We’ll have you in a boat before the summer’s out, even if we do have to carry you.’
The old man smiled. ‘You were always a man to get your own way, Marius, so I’ll not contradict you.’ He sighed. ‘I must say it sounds tempting.’
‘Leave it to me,’ said Mr van Beek. ‘I have everything planned, even Podger.’
They all moved away, Tabitha wondering what the plans for Podger might be. It seemed she wasn’t to be told until Mr van Beek saw fit, which annoyed her to the point of frowning, and Mr Raynard snapped: ‘What’s bitten you, Tabby? Where’s all the womanly charm? You look as though you’re encased in metal armour plating. Wasn’t the weekend a success?’
She was about to answer this when Mr van Beek answered for her.
‘Miss Tabitha Crawley danced the lot of us into the floor,’ he remarked, ‘and looked delightful doing it too. What is more, she was up with the sun the next morning. I know, because I was up too, exercising my host’s dog. We met.’
He smiled at Tabitha, who stared woodenly back and uttered a brief and equally wooden ‘Yes’. But if she had hoped to discourage him from recalling the happenings of the weekend, she failed lamentably, for he went on to describe it in detail in a lazy, good-natured manner, even remarking upon the extreme good looks of Lilith.
‘A bit young,’ remarked Mr Raynard obscurely. ‘I met her mother once—terrifying woman, always smiling.’ He coughed and added hastily: ‘Sorry, Tabby—quite forgot. I’m sure she’s very—er—competent,’ he finished inadequately.
What at? wondered Tabitha, unless it’s making me out to be a halfwit with a face that ought to be veiled and no taste in clothes. She frowned again and changed it quickly into a smile because the men were looking at her.
‘Shall I get someone to bring your coffee in here?’ she enquired, a little haughty because they had all been staring so. ‘Unless there’s anyone else Mr van Beek wants to see.’
They agreed, still puzzled, because it had become the custom for them all to crowd into Tabitha’s office after a ward round and drink their coffee there, wreathed in pipe smoke and eating their way steadily through her week’s supply of biscuits. So Nurse Betts, a little mystified, took a tray into Mr Raynard’s cubicle, and presently Tabitha, drinking her own Nescafé while she wrestled with the off duty, listened to the hum of cheerful talk coming from his bedside. Someone was being very amusing, judging from the bellows of laughter. She gave up the off duty after a few minutes and went along to the linen cupboard to see if there were enough sheets. They were on the top shelf and she had climbed on to the shelf below the better to count them, when the door opened behind her. She froze, because the nursing staff were supposed to use the steps, not climb around the cupboard like monkeys, and whoever it was, Matron, or worse, Fanny Adams, the Assistant Matron, would point this out to her in the tone of voice used by someone who had discovered wrong-doing and felt justified in censuring it. She took a firmer grip on the upright of the top shelf and looked down behind her. Mr van Beek was lounging in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, watching her with interest. She waited for him to make the obvious remark about the steps and when he didn’t, felt compelled to say: ‘This is so much easier than those little steps. I thought you were Matron.’
‘Heaven forbid!’ he murmured gravely. ‘Come down, I want to talk to you.’
Tabitha stayed where she was. ‘I’m busy, sir, counting sheets.’ A sudden thought struck her. ‘Unless it’s urgent?’
‘It’s urgent,’ he said instantly.
‘Then I’ll come down,’ said Tabitha, to find herself instantly clasped round her waist and lifted to the ground. The linen room was small, a mere cupboard, and they were forced to stand very close. She put a hand to her cap and said a trifle anxiously: ‘Not Mr Bow…he was fine.’
‘And still is. Why did you run away?’
A question Tabitha didn’t wish to answer. She said instead: ‘It was urgent.’
‘I consider it urgent, and I should like an answer.’
She saw that she would have to give him one or stay imprisoned with the sheets and pillowcases for an unlimited period. She drew a breath and began quietly: ‘I don’t want to be pitied. To be compared with Lilith and then pitied is more than I can stand—it makes me bad-tempered and envious and I try not to be, and then you come along and stir me up.’
‘Good,’ said Mr van Beek with lazy satisfaction.
Tabitha flashed him a cross look and found his eyes, very calm and clear, contemplating her. Her voice throbbed with the beginnings of temper. ‘It’s nothing of the sort. I’ve made a life for myself; I’ve a home and Meg and a job that I can keep for the rest of my life.’
‘God forbid!’ interposed Mr van Beek with deep sincerity, and when she gaped at him he added: ‘No, no—I don’t mean that you’re not a splendid nurse—you are, but there are other things. You seem to think you’re not entitled to any of them.’
She made a small sound, half snort, half sigh. ‘You’re not a girl.’
His lips twitched. ‘No—meaning that I am unable to understand?’
‘Yes,’ said Tabitha baldly, ‘that’s exactly what I do mean. And now if there’s nothing more you want to say, I t
hink I should get on with my work.’
His eyes twinkled. ‘Shall I lift you up, since I lifted you down?’
She shook her head and he turned away from the door and then paused to ask:
‘Would it be possible to do the Wednesday round half an hour earlier? That beguiling young sister of yours has teased me into taking her to Torquay, and if I could get away by eleven…’
Tabitha fought a violent desire to burst into tears, box Mr van Beek’s ears and find Lilith at once and do her some injury. She was still feeling surprise at her strong feelings as she said stonily: ‘That will be perfectly all right, sir,’ and stood waiting for him to go, and when he saw that she wasn’t going to say anything more, he said: ‘Well, goodbye.’ He stretched out a large, well-shaped hand and touched her hair lightly.
‘Still determined to be Cinderella?’ he enquired as he went.
Tabitha prayed wickedly for a cyclone, a terrific thunderstorm, or just a steady downpour of rain, starting just before eleven o’clock on Wednesday, but the faint promise of rain on Tuesday evening had evaporated before a clear blue sky when she went on duty the following morning, and by the time the round began the sun was blazing down from a cloudless sky, justifying Mr van Beek’s elegant summer suiting and beautiful silk shirt.
Tabitha, handing X-rays and reports and whisking bedclothes off plastered arms and legs, wondered where he would take Lilith. There was an hotel in Torquay famed for its food—she couldn’t remember its name, but she felt sure that that was where Lilith would expect to go, and no doubt Mr van Beek would spend his money very freely indeed just for the pleasure of having such a pretty girl for his companion. She scowled fiercely at Mr Prosser, who was so taken by surprise that for once he was left speechless.
The round was businesslike, and although Mr van Beek did all that was expected of him by each of the patients, he wasted no time on unnecessary chatter. Even Mr Bow received only the briefest of remarks and when they reached Mr Raynard, that gentleman besought his friend not to hang around; he was doing nicely enough, and unless Tabby chose to kill him off in the meantime, he would still be there on the following day. As the party moved towards the door Tabitha spoke.
‘You would rather not wait for coffee, I expect, Mr van Beek.’ She went through the door into the office ahead of the others and turned to smile bleakly at him. ‘I hope you have a very pleasant day,’ she added insincerely, and smiled warmly at George Steele and Tommy, indicating with a little nod the coffee tray ready on her desk. Mr van Beek paused for the smallest moment of time, his eyebrows lifted. Then his eyes narrowed.
He said smoothly: ‘Thank you. The pleasures of the day will doubtless make up for the lack of coffee now.’
He stalked away and Tabitha watched him go, feeling wretched and miserable because he had seemed to mind so much, and excusing her own bad temper as concern that a man as nice as he was should fall for someone like Lilith. She attempted to throw off the peculiar sense of loss she was sustaining by being extra bright and chatty to George and Tommy, leaving them even more puzzled. They went away presently, shaking their heads over her, for they liked her very much, having a brotherly fondness for her which allowed them to appreciate her good points without noticing her plain face.
The day dragged; Tabitha took an afternoon off duty so that Staff Nurse Rogers could have a half day—Mrs Burns, the part-time staff nurse, would stay until five o’clock. She went home to the flat and helped Meg turn out cupboards, then sat idly with Podger on her lap, trying not to think about Lilith and Mr van Beek. Sunbathing, she supposed, or having tea on the terrace of some hotel and then later, dinner and a drive back in the moonlight. She found her imagination unbearable and got up so quickly that Podger let out a protesting miaouw and only allowed his ruffled feelings to be soothed by a saucer of milk and the small portions of sandwich with which he was fed when Meg came in with the tea.
‘A nice beast,’ observed Meg, ‘makes a bit of life about the place. You haven’t told me about the dance, Miss Tabby.’
‘Well,’ said Tabitha, ‘it wasn’t all that exciting—not for me, anyway.’ She explained about not wearing the new dress and Meg tut-tutted in a comforting voice.
‘Never you mind, child,’ she consoled. ‘You’ll get the chance to wear it, you see if you don’t.’
‘Yes, I know. The Christmas Ball at the hospital. Even though I’ve never worn it, it’ll seem old, if you see what I mean.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I must fly, Meg dear, I’m a bit short-handed this evening, so don’t worry if I’m late.’
But on the whole, it was a quiet evening. There had been an admission, it was true, which had gone straight to theatre to have a broken arm put in plaster, but the patient would go home again very soon and presented no great strain on the ward staff. There were a couple of men admitted for laminectomy for the following day too, but they were allowed to sit in the day room, watching the television with anyone else who could manage to get as far, and the remaining patients were quiet enough. Even Mr Raynard, deep in a thriller, gave less trouble than he usually did. He had been sat out for a short period during the day, and so had old Mr Bow; they had faced each other across the ward, their legs carefully propped up before them, while they boasted to each other how soon they would be on their feet again, and while Mr Bow didn’t exactly smirk with satisfaction when Tabitha did her evening round, he certainly seemed to have taken on a new lease of life, a fact which Mr Raynard noted when she reached his bed.
‘Nice old fellow,’ he commented, ‘clear as a bell on top too—splendid brain, I shouldn’t wonder. We must have a chat some time.’ Tabitha forbore from pointing out to him that they had been shouting to each other for most of the afternoon and took this as a strong hint that they should be arranged within normal talking distance of each other. ‘You shall sit together tomorrow,’ she promised. ‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t have a wheelchair, but we’d better wait until Mr van Beek comes—he’ll be in early to look at those two laminectomies.’
‘If he’s back in time,’ commented Mr Raynard darkly, to which remark Tabitha made no reply, for there was none to make.
The evening was fading before the pale moon as she reached home, and although she was tired she thought how nice it would be to go out for an hour, out of the city and into the country, or perhaps take the coast road to the sea, preferably in a Bentley. She opened the flat door and called to Meg as she always did, and Meg came to the kitchen door and said in a faintly scolding voice: ‘There you are at last—I’ve just popped something on a tray in the sitting room for you. You go in and have it straight away.’
‘Why can’t I have it in the kitchen with you?’ demanded Tabitha, and Meg gave her a strange look and said: ‘All right, Miss Tabby, you go and fetch it if you’d like that better.’ She turned away. ‘I’m busy.’
The sitting room looked pretty; there was a small lamp lighted on the little table by the fireplace and a tray set invitingly beside it. Opposite, in the winged armchair she had brought from Chidlake, sat Mr van Beek, looking very much at his ease. Tabitha stood just inside the door, watching him unfold his length, conscious of a peculiar sensation at the sight of him and quite unable to think of anything to say. It was a relief when he asked mildly: ‘You don’t mind, I hope? Lilith asked me to call and give you these.’
He indicated a large box of chocolates which Tabitha stared at unbelievingly, rather in the manner of one confronted by a deadly serpent.
‘Chocolates—from Lilith? Why?’
He laughed a little. ‘I imagine she thought you might like them,’ he murmured. ‘Aren’t you going to sit down and eat your sandwiches?’
She sat down and saw that there were two cups on the tray.
So he expected coffee. She poured it out and handed him a cup and said at length:
‘How—how nice. I—it’s a bit unexpected.’
His eyes crinkled into laughter lines. ‘Unexpected presents are always nice. Have you been busy?’
&nb
sp; ‘Yes—no—not too bad. How—why—that is, you could have brought the chocolates with you tomorrow.’
A muscle twitched at the corners of his mouth. ‘I had plenty of time to spare. Lilith met some of her young friends in Torquay, they asked us to join them for dinner. She thought it might be rather pleasant. After all, to come back early in the evening as I had warned her we should have to do was a tame ending to the day in face of dancing until all hours.’
Tabitha bit into a sandwich, and then, remembering her manners, offered him one.
‘She stayed—I can’t believe it!’ She looked at his quiet face and corrected herself. ‘Oh, I see. She thought you would stay despite the fact that you had said you had planned to return early. She must have been surprised.’
Mr van Beek said gently: ‘Er—yes, I believe so. I imagine she is a young lady who usually gets her own charming way.’ He gave her a sharp glance. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘How clever you are—none of Lilith’s young men stand a chance against you—none of them would have dared to cross her, it will intrigue her. I expect you’re very experienced.’
She looked up and found him laughing silently. His voice was bland.
‘Probably. How’s Podger?’
Tabitha had gone a little red in the face because he had snubbed her, gently it was true, but a snub all the same, and she was sensitive to snubs. She discussed Podger’s well-being politely, and just as politely enquired if her companion would like more coffee, and when he declined asked: ‘What is to happen to Podger? Mr Bow is devoted to him. Have you—that is, do you know anywhere where they can be together?’
Mr van Beek got slowly to his large, well-shod feet. ‘Oh, yes, I’ve thought all that sort of thing out. I believe it will work very well. I’ll go, you must be tired and I didn’t intend to stay so long.’
Tabitha went to the door with him, seething silently because he had snubbed her for the second time. She thanked him once more for bringing the chocolates and added: ‘Please thank Lilith for me when you see her. I—I don’t go home very often, I’m sure you’ll see her before I shall.’
